The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(121)

She sat up and found herself in the small box of her carriage. Beautifully appointed as ever, with its silk-upholstered walls and gilded hardware.

It felt like a coffin.

“You’re awake.”

Panting, Min threw off the covers and found Brother sitting across from her. Butterfly was crouched at his side, pale and shivering despite the heat.

“Shh,” the old man tutted, pressing Min back down. “Rest. You must rest.”

“No!” she cried, recoiling at his touch. The ground was still shaking—she had to get out. Had to get away, had to go, had to run, had to find Set. Only Set was . . . he was . . .

“There’s nowhere to go,” the old man said softly. Perhaps he meant it as a comfort; it felt like a threat.

Min’s heart still raced. She felt the force of it alone might throw her off the bed. Someone let out a sob. Butterfly. When Min looked at her, the nuna buried her face into the filthy orange sleeves of her robe.

“None of that,” Brother snapped. It was the harshest voice Min had ever heard him use. “You’re upsetting your princess. Go—tell the driver to halt the column.”

The nuna ran to the front of the carriage. Moments later, they slowed and stilled.

“You’re disoriented,” Brother said. “I’ll give you something to help you sleep.”

It wasn’t an offer. He looked tired, nearly as dazed as she felt. She wanted to kick him in the throat. Lu would. Lu would—

Lu.

All at once she remembered her sister’s face, the way the older girl had looked at her. Her shock. The sense that all she had held to be true was unmoored.

She’d looked at Min like she was someone—something—she didn’t know anymore. Didn’t recognize.

You never knew me at all, sister. But no, not sister anymore.

What have I done?

Brother placed a cup in her hands. She looked down at its milky contents and recalled the poison her mother had forced her father to swallow. It hadn’t been a dream; she could admit that much now. She looked up at the monk. He had cut her with his knife, made her bleed.

He had also saved her. Clumsily thrown her up onto his saddle. Ridden her through the gate between this world and the Inbetween, just before it collapsed behind them.

There had been such terrible noise, and a break in the ground that looked like the sky, and everyone had run. Everyone except her. And the wolf. The boy. She wondered vaguely what had become of him.

“Set is dead,” she whispered. There had been blood coming out of his neck. So much blood.

“Yes,” Brother sighed. “He is.”

What will happen now?

“The terrain has changed,” Brother said as he drew back a curtain and looked outside. Min flinched at the flare of daylight.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Not long enough. You need more rest, Princess.”

Empress, she thought. But was she? With her husband dead, what did that leave her?

The Girl King, Min thought deliriously. Ridiculous. They’d never let her rule in her own right, not truly. Even if they did, she wouldn’t want it—would she? How could she? She didn’t know the first thing about ruling, leading. Not like her sister . . .

“Do you think—is it possible she survived?” Min blurted.

“Lu? It’s possible. The Yunians surely had protections for themselves. And since she was under their care, well . . .”

Lu is alive. Min was sure of it. If there was ever a chance, Lu found it. It frightened her that she didn’t know how that made her feel.

“Your claim is safe,” assured the monk, misreading her thoughts. “Even if Lu survived, she has nothing now. Fewer than a handful of broken-down soldiers at her back and the alliance of a city that doesn’t exist anymore. The remnants of which we destroyed.”

You don’t know her.

“What’s important now is that you heal,” the monk continued. “You have exhausted yourself. Set—we—asked too much of you, too soon. You can build your strength up at your aunt and uncle’s estate before we head back to Yulan City, where we will learn to better control your powers.”

Min shuddered. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to use those powers again—not after all that had happened. Besides, what good would it be? Set was dead, Yunis had collapsed into ruin, and—

“What about the prophecy?” she blurted. “The prophecy foretold—”

“Prophecies,” Brother said, “can be malleable. In accordance with what is needed. As the world changes, so does truth.”

Min wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“Perhaps your cousin’s reign was never meant to be,” Brother continued. “Perhaps he was merely a tool of the heavens, to bring me to you. Who’s to say?”

Me?

“Poor Set,” the monk sighed. “I thought his passion, his fervor for what was real could sustain him. But he was young and reckless. In the end, he was seduced by the promise of fast power. Of revenge on your sister. He wanted that short-term, earthly glory too much. I thought he wanted to plumb the depths of what time has forgotten. What men have lost, and what they have yet to discover. Power like nothing the world has ever seen . . .”

His dark eyes fixed beadily on her. Min folded her arms protectively across her chest.