One Dark Throne (Three Dark Crowns #2)(91)

Mirabella pretends to sniffle this time, much more softly, and Arsinoe closes her eyes. She must try to be patient. After all, Mirabella’s first tears were real, before she looked down and realized that Arsinoe was grinning.

Mirabella quiets, and Arsinoe opens one eye.

“They crowned her,” Mirabella murmurs. “I cannot believe they crowned her.”

“And ordered your execution,” Arsinoe adds. “Good Goddess. They really made you want to be queen, didn’t they? They held that crown out for you like a prize.”

“I am angry about being executed,” Mirabella says, and scowls. “But there must have been some reason . . . why Luca would let them. . . .”

“Because we gave them no choice.” Arsinoe squeezes her sister’s hand. “But you have to be brave now. I can’t get out of here without you.”

“Get out of here to what?” Mirabella asks bitterly. “I will not go back to Rolanth, to a temple who would see me killed. Not even if they imprisoned Katharine instead. Not even if they said you could live.”

“Which they would never say,” Arsinoe mutters.

They are fugitives now. Exiles. Arsinoe cannot go back to Wolf Spring any more than Mirabella can return to Rolanth. She cannot go back to the Milones and get them in worse trouble than they may already face.

“The island crowned its queen,” Arsinoe says. “Another poisoner, and not even the strongest poisoner of the litter.” She humphs. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want anything more to do with them.”

“Nor do I,” Mirabella agrees. “So what do we do? Stand side by side united tomorrow as we are executed?”

“No. You have a terrible sense of rebellion.” Arsinoe swats her. Then she lies back and knocks her head against the straw-covered floor.

“The island crowned its queen,” Mirabella murmurs. “You are right. So perhaps it is not that we are done with it, but that it is done with us. Perhaps it will let us go.”

Arsinoe looks up hopefully. But the hope is fleeting.

“I’ve tried that. Twice.”

“You have not tried with me.”

That is true. Mirabella’s gift is so strong, it could tear a hole through the mist. And dying at sea would be better anyway, than dying at the hands of the Arrons.

Mirabella holds her hand out.

“All right,” Arsinoe says, and takes it.

She grins until footsteps sound down the corridor. Then she goes limp. So much must go their way for their escape to work. But this is their only chance.

The key turns in the lock. The door swings open. Guards shuffle inside, murmuring apologies. To them and every other guard they will encounter, Arsinoe and Mirabella are still queens, and the sisters will use that to their advantage.

“Forgive us, Queen Mirabella. But we have to take her.”

“No!” Mirabella throws herself across Arsinoe’s chest. “A few moments more!”

Arsinoe wishes she could open her eyes to see how many guards there are. From their footsteps, she would guess no more than three.

“Come now. Any longer will only make it harder.”

Mirabella pitches such a fit that Arsinoe almost laughs. But her acting is much better now.

“Take Queen Mirabella aside,” the guard says, and Mirabella shouts and struggles and makes a general ruckus. They lift Arsinoe by the arms, and she lets her head fall back. She waits until they have her hoisted high enough that she can get her feet underneath her, and then she takes her chance.

She jerks her right arm loose and punches the guard straight across the face. The poor girl crumples like a dropped sack of potatoes. Jules would be proud. Arsinoe twists her left arm, prepared to pull and pull, but her luck holds. The shock of seeing her come back to life has loosened the other guard’s fingers. So Arsinoe draws back and hits her, too.

The last guard holding Mirabella stares at Arsinoe in wonder. He is a skinny thing, not much older than Joseph’s little brother, Jonah.

“What—” he stammers. “How?” He lets go of Mirabella and takes a few disoriented steps.

Arsinoe squares herself to fight before he can collect his wits and alert the rest of the prison.

But to her surprise, Mirabella threads her fingers together and swings down hard to club him at the back of the neck. His eyes cross as he falls to the floor.

“Oh!” Mirabella exclaims softly.

“‘Oh’ is right,” Arsinoe says. She reaches down and relieves the lead guard of her keys, then takes up the lantern they set near the door. “Now tear that skirt of yours to use for gags, and let’s get out of here.”

Jules’s and Joseph’s last meal was a good one. Their guards were kind and brought them roasted duck and bread and soft cheese. Even a bag of sugared nuts from a street vendor.

“I can’t eat this,” Jules says, and listens to Joseph toss his metal plate down.

“Nor can I,” Joseph replies. “What’s roasted duck when we’re going to be dead in the morning? I can toss some to you. For Cam.”

Jules nudges her plate toward the cougar, who lies with her head on Jules’s knee. Camden will not even sniff at it.

“She won’t take it either.” She strokes the cat’s broad, golden head. She cannot believe that they will pass their last hours like this. She is numb. Not even afraid. She has not been able to feel anything since the guard came to tell them that Arsinoe had been executed. And that they would be tied to posts in the morning and executed as well, their bodies left out for Mirabella to see.