Chapter 20

Lark’s eyes widen when she sees me and she stumbles back a step.

Good. If she’s worried I’m here to kill her, it means she still wants to live, at least a little bit. That’s better than I expected based on her reaction earlier.

“Lark, we don’t have much time,” Mom says. “You think Chancy’s here to execute you, but she’s not.”

Mother uses her handprint on the cell door, and it works. These electronics have been replaced. I watch Mom wipe the history on the keypad so there won’t be a record of Lark’s release.

“You need to follow me out right now. Frederick will come inside and monitor the fake execution.” Mom’s voice is so low I can barely hear her.

“Wait, what?” Lark glances my way.

“I assume I’ll be killing the goat you mentioned, Mother?”

Mom nods, and Lark shoots through the door and collapses into my arms, sobbing silently on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her and drag air into my lungs to keep from crying, too.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

My best friend squeezes me again, so tightly I can barely breathe, and then she lets me go and nods at me. I expected her to yell at my Mom, or sob uncontrollably and have to be carried out. But she’s doesn’t. The Lark in front of me is a warrior. She’s been trained for this moment since birth by her mother. Of course she has.

Mom hurries back to the utility closet and pushes down on an old, rather dingy looking bottle of bleach. A panel opens and she presses her palm to it again. The secret panel reopens.

“Tell your friend goodbye,” Mom says. “Frederick will be here any minute.”

“Where am I going?” Lark asks.

“I’m sending you to meet one of my deputies, the head of my network in Austin,” Mom says. “Her name is Marselle. She’s going to mentor you, and once you’ve grieved and she thinks you’re ready, she’ll send you in for your first field assignment.” Mom narrows her eyes. “I killed your mother. Can you swear loyalty to me? I must trust my agents one hundred and fifty percent. Sparing you is a tremendous risk.”

Lark’s lips tighten and her heartbeat accelerates.

Mom might kill her anyway, or have Marselle do it if her loyalty isn’t unquestionable. My stomach twists.

“What about me?” I ask. “Do you blame me?”

Lark’s face falls and she takes my hand. “Of course I don’t blame you, not for any of it. You took a huge risk for me this morning.”

I spin to face Mom. “I’ll need my own network. I’d like Lark to be my first asset.”

Mom’s eyes widen. “You will need your own. Where would you send her?”

“Not Austin,” I say. “I’d send her to Alora in New York. I trust Alora to train Lark. And you know, of all people, Alora won’t care that she’s half-human.”

Mom frowns, but she knows my older sister loves humans more than she should. “Fine.”

I whisper. “Can you promise to be loyal to me, one hundred and fifty percent?”

Tears well in Lark’s eyes. “A thousand percent.” She hugs me again. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“If there’s any way I can swing it, I may move to New York yet. Don’t give up on having me around.”

Bootsteps and hooves sound down the hall. “Frederick is coming,” Mom says. “Time to go.”

Lark bobs her head and squeezes my hand before she lets go and crosses to where Mom’s waiting. I want to collapse on the floor and sob again, but I can’t do that. I have to execute an innocent animal. Ugh.

I turn to face Frederick. He’s holding the lead rope on a dove gray goat with one black leg and two black ears. It looks as scared as I feel, but its mouth is bound with a cord so it can’t bleat. When I glance back, Mom and Lark are gone without a trace. Frederick hands me a sword without saying a word.

“How can you possibly testify that you saw me execute Lark?”

Frederick bobs his dark head at the goat. “I named her Lark.”

Of course he did, five minutes ago. I tighten my grip on the sword and I think about spilling Lark’s blood this morning, about my mother decapitating Lyssa, and about Judica stabbing me in the gut. My stomach turns and my heart quakes. Poor Lark the goat’s eyes dart from me to Frederick and back again, clearly terrified.

I can’t do it.

I hold the sword toward Frederick. He shakes his head. “You have to do it.”

“I can’t, okay? Why can’t you do it?”

His eyes are sad. “I’ve known you for your entire life, Chancery. I’ve cared about you every day, and I’ve seen how happy you make your mother. Serving her has been my life’s work. But it’s time for you to clean a toilet, for once in your life.”

“Excuse me?” I lift my chin. What do toilets have to do with this?

“Your life has been blessed. Safe. Clean and perfect. But real life isn’t like that. Normal people have to clean toilets, even when we don’t want to. This is partially your fault. If you’d told your mother this morning what you knew, if you’d trusted her, she could have spared Lyssa and Lark. But you tried to fix it yourself, and Lyssa’s dead. Feel the weight of that mistake, and then clean this up yourself so I can tell people I watched you behead Lark without lying. Do the uncomfortable thing to keep your friend safe.”

I blink back tears, tighten my hands on the sword and lift it up. I put it back down. I will never understand how evians can kill, can maim, can attack, can inflict pain on others with impunity. I adjust my steps to avoid killing beetles, ants, anything. I insisted the cleaning staff leave a birds’ nest with three baby sparrows alone, even though they pooped all over the floor for weeks. I didn’t actually clean up after them, but I would have.

But this isn’t about me.

It’s about Lark. And I need to do this for her. So I grip the hilt, my palms sweaty, and bring it up over my head. I swing it down, closing my eyes at the last second. The blade cleaves through poor Lark the goat’s neck, barely slowing as it severs her spine. I suppress a shudder when the warm blood spatters my arm.

When I open my eyes, Frederick’s grin is self-satisfied, like he’s taught me an important lesson. I wish I could slap his smug face. It’s atrocious that savagery is a life lesson for us. I hate it. I don’t hand him the sword. I don’t thank him, or even ask what he’s planning to do to dispose of Lark the goat’s body. I walk up the steps to the entrance of the dungeon, dragging the blood-stained sword behind me, leaving a trail of gore and staining my pants badly in the process.

Dozens of people line the hallway as I leave, some headed toward the throne room, some headed for the guest wing. They all freeze when I emerge, staring at my bloody sword and clothing. I wipe the tears from my face with my free hand, and my fingers come away red. I didn’t even feel any of it hit my face.

“Lark is dead.” My voice is flat. No one stops me on my way to my room.

I peel my bloody clothes off and toss them in the corner. If Mom had adhered to her own rules, they’d be stained with Lark’s blood, not a goat’s. Because ruling evians is the worst job in the world. For the last seventeen years, I’ve secretly felt lesser because Mom didn’t pick me. Inferior, because Mom didn’t think I was good enough to rule. And now that she wants me to be the one making these ghastly decisions, I realize too late that I was wrong all along.

I want to take it all back. I’d tell Mom about my discovery with Lark and never touch that detestable stone. But for all my perfect DNA, I can’t reverse time. I can’t undo what’s been done, no matter how desperately I wish I could.