Chapter One
Liya
Numb. Frozen.
Shock.
My eyelids flutter as I settle back into my body. I’m acutely aware of the decorations, the smell of a generous buffet, the ragged breathing of someone nearby.
I touch my chest.
It’s not someone else breathing like that.
It’sme.
I’m the one gasping like a wounded deer.
My nostrils flare as everything comes right back in a matter of seconds. The flash. The thunder. The smell of smoke. It assaults me as I recognize my brother slumped on the ground with a hole in his head.
Executed. By my husband.
And I ordered it.
Two brigadiers step toward the body. Their footsteps are muted, warped by a screech. As they lift my brother by the shoulders, his head lolls back lazily like he’s just had too much to drink and fell asleep in the middle of the party.
My heart races.
He’ll wake up, I convince myself.Jonas just caused a scene. He’s just drunk. He’ll wake up and everything will be all right.
A scream rises when Jonas’s brain matter spills out from the back of his skull.
Brigadiers flock to the door as Pavel oversees the two hauling Jonas out. Just another afternoon execution. Nothing else to see here.
Who the hell is screaming? Why won’t it stop?
I cover my face, trying to scrub my eyes. Maybe if I wipe them hard enough I can get the image of my brother’s lifeless body out of my mind. Those dead eyes. That slack jaw. The dark pool around the front of his pants.
And then it hits me.
The smell.
It’s a pungent odor, a rancid and decrepit aroma lingering in the background. It’s been there for a while. It’s been waiting for me to notice it.
And now that I do, I gag.
I slap my hand over my mouth. Nausea rolls through me like a furious ocean. The screaming stops instantly.
It was me. I was the one screaming.
A deathly silence drapes over the room as snot and tears tangle between my fingers. The mess slicks my palm, making it difficult to hold my mouth shut. I’m afraid if I drop my hand that I’ll start screaming again.
Or vomit.
I scan the room, looking for familiar faces, forsomethingto keep me grounded in this reality.
Willow stands alone next to my throne.
What a laugh to see the royal purple silk hanging from it like it was always meant to hold a queen.