Malice (Malice Duology #1)(95)

    My head spins. This was a mistake. A terrible, awful mistake. Aurora steps in front of me, protecting me.

“That’s enough. You will not speak to her that way.”

Hot tears track down the sides of my neck.

“Tell me, daughter.” Tarkin taps his signet ring against the arm of his throne, slow and deliberate. “You think you know the Dark Grace?”

A current of cold air snakes between us.

“What does that mean?” Aurora snipes back. “Of course I do. Better than either of you, blinded by your own ignorant hatred.”

At that, the Briar King laughs. The tips of his teeth gleam. Numbness fizzes along the base of my scalp and between my toes. No, he cannot mean to—I hadn’t had the chance to tell Aurora yet. I open my mouth to say something—anything that might prevent this from happening, but I’m rooted to the spot.

“Oh, Aurora. You think you’re ready to be queen? You can’t even see what’s right in front of you.” Tarkin rises, looming over us like the dragon doors of his war room. “Your precious Alyce has been working for me.”

“That isn’t true.” Aurora turns to me, searching for an answer. When I don’t respond, the first inky tinges of doubt bleed across her features. “Alyce?”

I cannot bring myself to reply.

“Filthy beast,” Mariel spits at me. “This is how you repay our generosity?”

    The question brings me out of my stupor. Anger balls inside my chest, fanged and livid. “Generosity? Is it generous to be placed in a Grace house, ordered to produce elixirs for every noble nursing a grudge? To be neglected, excluded from every social event, gawked at like I’m a creature from a nightmare? Treated as an abomination my entire life?”

“Save your dramatics. You were paid for your services.” Tarkin waves me off. “Quite a sum, if I recall.”

“That’s not—”

“Quite a sum?” Aurora interrupts. Her forehead creases.

“Aurora, I…”

“The gold,” she breathes. “The gold I saw you with. It was so much. I thought perhaps that’s what every Grace earns, but…but it was from my father. Wasn’t it?” She is too still. Her skin too pale. I reach for her, but she bats me away. “You lied to me.”

Tarkin claps slowly and I recoil as though I’ve been struck. “I knew you were clever. Yes, Aurora. Now you see.” Sunlight dances on the jewels in his crown. “Let me show you exactly what the Dark Grace has been doing. Boy!” One of the servants scuttles over. “Fetch our subjects from Master Gray.”

Subjects? My insides curl.

An eternity passes after the gangly servant disappears through a side door. Tarkin strolls from one end of the room to the other, almost jovial. Aurora will not look at me.

Finally, there’s a distant shuffle and clanking. The door opens again and three Graces are led before us. Dragon’s teeth. They look exactly as Narcisse had. Ripped and dirtied clothing hang off their half-starved frames. Rough iron chains leave raw marks and scabbed blisters on their wrists and ankles. Their eyes are sunken and dull. Some of them are even sporting silver streaks in their matted hair.

    Nausea rolls through me and I have to clench my teeth to keep from retching. What has the king done?

“Alyce has been helping me with an experiment,” the king continues, circling his prisoners with a kind of sick approval.

He’s lying. I never—but then the pieces of this awful game begin to click into place.

“That isn’t possible,” Aurora whispers. “She wouldn’t do this.”

“Really?” The king moves to the first Grace and trails one finger back and forth in front of her gaze. But the emaciated creature only stares ahead, eyes vacant and cloudy.

“As it turns out, our Dark Grace is far more talented than we first believed. She’s been cursing items for me using her Vila blood. Like this ring.” Tarkin lifts the Grace’s hand. A golden ring glints on her first finger. “It causes blindness.”

The ring I cursed for the king. Endlewild said it had been used on a nobleman, but I never thought—

“Alyce?” The distance between Aurora and me feels like an ocean. “Is that what you did?”

My tongue peels itself from the roof of my mouth. I cannot deny it. “I—yes. But it wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—”

There’s nothing I can say. I knew the king would use the items I cursed. I convinced myself that it wasn’t my fault who got hurt. But I thought he was lashing out against courtiers. Against those who deserved it. But seeing these Graces—broken and spent—it is my fault. Utterly and completely.

    “You understand what she is now,” Tarkin says. “Self-serving and vindictive. I suppose the substantial gold I supplied to commission these items wasn’t enough for her. The Dark Grace wants the realm for herself. And so she used that Vila magic to trick you into falling in love so she could usurp your throne.”

“No.” Aurora backs away, merciful certainty returning to her voice. “She wanted me to rule. She was helping me break the curse. We…we tried everything.”

“And yet nothing worked. Except this convenient kiss?” Tarkin tilts his head at me. “I wonder, was she trying to help you, or merely pretending? Tell me, Aurora. Did the Dark Grace truly do everything in her power to free you from your burden?”