Page 137

The phoenix inside Thicket rioted with fiery indignation as Lavender tossed aside the necklace that had contained a single phoenix tear.

“Vynt.” Lavender’s prison cell burst open in a rush of wind. Thicket slammed back. Spots danced across her eyes as her head collided with the dungeon’s wall. Lavender stalked towards Thicket, held up by the choking force of the wind.

“You are a fool, sister,” Lavender snarled. “Now, I am going to make you wish you never woke up.”

This close, Thicket could see all the emotions coloring her sister’s eyes. The hatred, the jealousy, the anguish—and the fear.

“I think by being in the Dream World…” Thicket swallowed as the wind pressed harder against her throat. “I have come to really understand you. I don’t think that was your intention, but that’s what came of it.” The wind squeezed, almost blocking off her airway completely. “I know that it was meant for you,” she choked out. This made Lavender’s eyes widen, loosening her hold on the wind if only just slightly. “I know now what you feel. What it was like to be you. To be the outsider, the outcast, the freak. The one who battled their entire life to be normal.”

“I didn’t want to be normal,” Lavender hissed, wind squeezing tighter until black dipped in the corners of Thicker’s vision. “I wanted to be queen.”

“Was that really what you wanted?”

It was as if that one question had been the only thing needed to send her sister’s cracked soul tumbling into pieces.

Thicket used the opportunity to wheeze, “Fya.”

Her phoenix shrieked, wings cutting through Lavender’s wind. Thicket fell to the floor, coughing as air desperately flooded her lungs. Lavender was breathing heavily, too. Thicket couldn’t tell if it was because the phoenix tear could only do so much to replenish her magical energy, or if it was the words Thicket had said that had made her composure unravel.

She knew from experience that the very thing someone fought so hard to grab onto sometimes wasn’t what they wanted at all. It was the thing they were convinced they wanted through the expectations put on them by others.

Ever since Lavender was a little girl, she was expected to become queen. It had always been an option for Thicket, but never a guarantee. For Lavender, it had been everything. It was all she had, because being queen meant sacrificing everything for that single task. She tried so hard—put everything she had, her entire being from the hairs on her skin to the bone fragments deep within. But it wasn’t natural. Wasn’t right. Still she fought. It was all she was meant for. There would be nothing else, only being queen. And when that was taken from her... she had nothing.

Lavender believed she was worthless without the crown, so she did what she did best: fought for it, as if this were some test she had to pass to prove her worth.

Lavender was a monster of other’s creation. Life and prophecies and other people’s bad judgements had created her, had tarnished her once pure soul.

She wasn’t to blame. Not really. She was still entirely at fault for her actions, but that didn’t mean she should be condemned. Instead, she should be given the opportunity to find the thing that would make her heart sing and her soul ignite. Towards the thing she desired most.

To the thing that made her good.

But that wasn’t being queen.

Thicket had to take that option from her sister. Maybe then, Lavender could finally find peace. Vindrya could finally find peace.

“I have a curse,” Thicket said, rising to her feet. Her phoenix stood vigil beside her, its fiery eyes not once leaving Lavender’s. “One that will ensure you will never be a danger to Vindrya again.”

Lavender’s brows slashed down. “What kind of curse?”

“One that can take away your magic.”

Her sister stumbled back, pure shock scrawling across her features. “You can’t do that. I’ve been over every spell, every curse—I never found one like that. It doesn’t exi—” She saw the moment her sister realized where she had obtained the curse. “You went to the Numyna… Of course you would. Precious Thicket always gets what she wants.”

“You went, too,” Thicket reminded her. Her memory of her time in Menheir was hazy, but she remembered the echo of her sister’s name. “Troubled Princess, Thirteenth Descendent, Apparent Heir to the Throne.”

Lavender closed her eyes, as if that would block out Thicket’s words.

“I won’t kill you, Lavender. Not just because you are my sister, but because that’s not my way of doing things. Because despite all the horrible things you’ve done, I still believe there is a chance for good inside you. If I take away your magic, even if you escape one day, you’ll be near powerless to hurt anyone. That’s what the Council and I decided was best. For Vindrya, and for you. Maybe now you can focus your efforts on a new dream.”

Lavender shook her head. “That curse should have been mine… This castle, the people—it should have been mine! But you took it from me!” Her voice was breaking, note by note, shattering to pieces—just like the broken girl inside.

“If it’s any consolation,” Thicket said, pulling out a knife. “I never wanted to be Queen. Not until you hurt my people.”

Lavender’s eyes widened as she took in the blade. But her sister refused to cower. She charged for Thicket, knocking her to the ground, hands wrestling for the knife. Her sister’s long nails clawed at Thicket’s skin, drawing blood as she wrenched the blade from Thicket’s hands. Lavender smiled triumphantly down at her, the knife arched over her heart.

Her sister stilled as Thicket ran a second blade along the arm pinning her down. Blood, warm, thick and smelling of iron trickled down Lavender’s forearm. The cut was shallow. But hers had been, too. Lavender pushed off Thicket, dropping the knife. “You tricked me,” she hissed.

“No,” Thicket said. “You did this to yourself.” And then, she uttered the words that would change things forever. That would finally fulfill this ancient prophecy.