The Cursed Queen (The Impostor Queen #2)(92)
Thyra glares at him, but her lips curve up at the corners, a ghost of a smile. I stare at her hollow cheeks, her sharp shoulders, her skinny wrists. All this time, she had a plan, and was willing to destroy her own body to see it through. She will never beg for mercy. She will never even bend. “Your warriors thought cleaning my dishes was beneath them,” she says. “They’d grown accustomed to having Vasterutian servants do it for them.”
“And we will hunt each and every one of those servants down. We’ll let them live just long enough to regret helping you,” Nisse says as he waves at the door. “Take these two up to the parapet and wait for me there. I’ll come when we have gathered all our warriors and the Vasterutians who will travel to Kupari with us. They’ll be witnesses to the unification of our tribes.”
My entire body trembles, and I know this feeling—I’ve had it before. My hold on the magic is cracking like thin ice beneath a heavy boot, the weight of my love and fear. “What are you going to do?”
Nisse’s hand closes over the hilt of his dagger as he turns to me. “I’m going execute Thyra and Halina for their treachery while their fellow rebels watch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
No!” Fire bursts from my palms as a bitter cold wind roars through the room. I draw back my arm, thinking only of saving Thyra and Halina, preparing to hurl flames at Nisse and his guards.
But the air swirls warm around me, and the fire disappears as quickly as it formed. I blink down at my hands, and the flames sprout instantly, only to disappear again. Hands close around my arms, hot and cold. I cry out as Sig and Kauko pull me away from Nisse, who is immediately surrounded by his personal guard. “Let me go,” I shriek, jerking back and forth as I try to loosen their holds.
“Be calm,” says Kauko as his fingers dig into my flesh. Every time my skin flashes hot, his palms turn ice cold. Every time my skin frosts over, his hands flush warm as a summer day. Sig holds just as tight, providing heat as my magic tries to freeze him, but he curses each time my skin turns hot, just until Kauko can cool me down again. They’re countering my magic, and I don’t have the focus or control to fight them.
I’m powerless.
“They will keep you from hurting yourself,” Jaspar says loudly. “I had them at the ready. I suspected this news would upset you.”
“This isn’t about me,” I shout. “Our warriors will never stand for it! You’re condemning them to death too!”
“They’ll be disarmed,” Nisse says as Thyra eyes him with fury. “And we will reveal the full extent of Thyra’s betrayal.”
“Her betrayal? What about yours? This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? First you try to kill her with poison!”
Nisse’s face contorts with rage. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”
“You tried to kill her again through challenges in the fight circle,” I yell. “Don’t pretend you’re righteous now.”
Spittle flies from his mouth as he rages. “She tried to kill me by framing me for murder,” he roars, drawing his dagger and pointing it at her. “She cost me my tribe and my family!” His nostrils flare as he sucks in a deep breath and sheathes his weapon once more. “I have been the soul of mercy and patience. All I ask for is your loyalty. Your obedience.” His eyes meet mine. “Stand by me and be the treasure of my tribe, Ansa. Betray me, and you will be caged like an animal for the rest of your days.”
I lunge for him, struggling against my captors. “The only way I would stand by you is if I were about to cut off your head!”
Jaspar waves toward the door. “Kauko, she’s all yours.”
His cold words strike right at my heart. “How can you do this?”
He glances at his father, who has turned away to stare at the map on the table. “Because you didn’t choose us, Ansa,” Jaspar says simply.
I give Sander a pleading look as Kauko and Sig drag me to the door. “Don’t let them do this!”
“I jumped, Ansa,” Sander shouts just before the wooden door shuts in my face. The last thing I see is Thyra’s eyes, clear and blue and hard and cold.
It’s going to be the last time I see her. This can’t be happening.
I scream with the agony of it, arching and fighting, kicking and clawing, but held tight between two magic wielders who are raising blisters and the white crust of frostbite on my arms right through the fabric of my long-sleeved tunic, I can’t get purchase. My feet barely touch the ground as they wrestle me down the stairs. Kauko speaks in a trilling, round tone that he must think is soothing, but every syllable cranks my rage higher. Sig is silent and grim on my other side, the ridge of his jaw sharp enough to cut stone. He will not meet my furious gaze.
I am bruised and blistered and torn by the time they force me into a tiny, windowless stone chamber that I recognize as the room where Sig has been sleeping. There’s no bed here, though. No torches or candles, either—the only source of light comes from the torches in the hallway. The room contains only a few things—a filthy-looking blanket, a stone bowl, a knife . . . and a set of copper manacles bolted to the rock walls. The cuffs are crusted with blood. I glance down at Sig’s wrists, where his swirled scars lie, and then at Kauko.
“You chain and bleed him every night, and then you heal him every morning, don’t you?” I put as much venom into my words as I can, but the elder only smiles.