I fight against the guard’s grip. He holds me firmly in place.
“That’s the only way House Maille will forgive you. The city of Bissay, her hometown, is very upset. Justice must be served. But instead of sentencing you to the starvation box, or death by hanging in the Royal Square, or throwing you off one of our great rock barriers in the southern part of the kingdom, I’ll spare your life. Isn’t that kind of me?”
I glare at her.
“Show me your gratitude.”
My guard forces Amber and me down in a bow. “Thank Her Majesty,” he orders. I say nothing. Amber refuses, too. He jerks my arm. Sharp, hot pain blasts through me. “I’ll snap it clean off.”
Another guard kicks Amber in the side. She coughs and cries out.
“Thank you,” I mumble. Amber parrots me.
“What was that?”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I yell.
“Oh, but maybe you shouldn’t thank me yet.” She motions at a nearby attendant. “Bring me little Du Barry.”
A side door opens. A red-faced and sniffing Elisabeth is dragged out. She stands beside me. Her eyes spill over with tears, her fear palpable.
“Elisabeth Du Barry, you haven’t been paying enough attention to the favorite. She’s been spending time with one of my suitors—breaking our fraternizing law. She ran away to the Chrysanthemum Teahouse under your watch. And worst of all, she called me a monster.”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” she stammers out. “Won’t happen again.”
“You’re right, it won’t.” She stands again and reaches for a long golden staff. A fat glittering diamond the size of an ostrich egg sits atop it. She lets the bottom hit the ground several times, reveling in the echo it sends through the room. “Elisabeth, you’ll be jailed alongside Camellia.”
Elisabeth bursts into a sob.
“You will bleed her every day, collect every drop of her blood, and we will create an elixir from it. I will test it myself.”
“That will do nothing,” I shout.
“But didn’t you tell Auguste the arcana live in the blood?”
His face burns in my memory. Our conversations. The touch of his fingers.
A collar of fear tightens around my throat. Tremors work their way through every part of my body. The memory of him is like a poison masked in a beautiful glass.
“Did you think he liked you, or better yet, loved you? Did you think he’d keep your secrets?”
The words sting. A dead, haunting silence stretches. The word love bounces off the walls, only to slap me in the face and explode inside my chest.
Georgiana saunters forward with a perfectly proportioned smile on her face. “Out of my three sons, I made him the most handsome because, coupled with how naturally charming he is, I knew it would make him powerful. He cracked you open like an egg, and the secrets of your arcana poured out into trusted and loving hands.”
Sweat races down my face, like the rain across the glass above our heads.
“Anything to say, Camellia? You’re usually never at a loss for words,” Sophia taunts.
Duchesse Georgiana Fabry claps her hands. “With your blood, Camellia, we will usher in a new form of beauty work that will make the kingdom millions of leas and billions of spintria.”
“And the best part,” Sophia says, “is that Ambrosia will be our new favorite until I’m ready to reveal our newest and most potent Belle-product, the Beauty Elixir. Yes, that’s what I think I’ll call it.” She waves her staff in the air.
The guards start to drag Amber from the room.
She screams out.
“Didn’t you always want to be the favorite?” Sophia says before waving her good-bye.
A hard knot of anger churns in my stomach. My heart beats to the sound of the quickening lightning outside. The veins in my arms rise like angry snakes. I feel the pulse and blood flow of every person in the room. The rushing and churning and simmering grow louder, like a river swollen by a storm.
The arcana wake up inside me. I stretch the black roses from the pots behind the throne platform. I use their thorny stems like a set of chains. The vines grab the sleeping Princess Charlotte from her throne chair, lifting her high above us all. The thorns push into her unblemished skin. Rivulets of blood skate down her limbs.
Sophia screams. Her teacup pets scatter in all directions.
“Let Amber go, and you can have me. All my blood.”
“Put her down,” Sophia cries out.
The guards pin me to the floor. I curl a stem around Princess Charlotte’s throat. She starts to cough. Other guards hack at the vines with their swords, but it only makes them grow back thicker and bolder.
“Make her stop,” Sophia commands the guards.
The guards kick my sides and slam my head into the staircase, but I hold tight, pushing my arcana further. Blood trickles down my nose. I make the stems recede. Charlotte’s body plummets toward the ground like a star falling from the heavens.
Sophia hollers, “Charlotte!” She opens her arms to try to catch her.
The black calla lilies balloon to the size of a carriage and catch her limp body. I close the dark petals around her, squeezing her into a cocoon. Guards try to yank the calla lily down, but I push it to grow higher toward the glass ceiling.
“Give me Amber.”
“No,” Sophia yells.
“I can stop her heart, you know.”
“You let her out,” Sophia screams.
I collapse the calla lily petals more, shrinking the space inside.
Thunder clatters.
“I will suffocate her. You will be queen. Not just regent. Don’t you want that?” I shout.
“I want my sister. I get to decide her fate. Not you.”
“And I want mine.”
“Pearl! Sapphire! Jet!” Sophia hollers. Her teacup dragons flutter over her head. “Burn her. Eat her flesh.” They elongate their wings, hiss and hiccup, then fly toward me. Tiny fireballs ignite my clothes.
“No, stop!” I scream as the burns scorch my arms. The scent of my burning flesh chokes me. The black calla lily starts to shrink. I can’t focus on two things at once.
“Put her down,” a voice commands. A deep stab pierces my side. Rémy holds a bloody knife. My blood.
My strength fades. I lower the cocoon in front of Sophia. I peel back the petals to reveal her unharmed sister. Sophia touches Charlotte’s sleeping face.
“Dragons!” she calls out. They turn their attention to her. “Enough. No need to waste her.” She calls for a palanquin to take Charlotte back to her chambers.
I stare at Rémy. “How could you?”
He snatches me from the other guard. “I’ll take her.”
50
Rémy drags me down the hall. My wound leaks, but slowly my arcana start to heal it.
“You’re a liar,” I say, and spit at him.
He tightens his hold.
I pummel him with insults:
“I hate you.”
“I wish I never met you.”
“Your sisters would be ashamed of you.”