Chapter 32

I manage to read all five books during my flight. And I stick to Alora’s side like glue when we exit the plane, not that steering clear of Edam is hard. I’m surrounded by guards like a crystal vase cocooned in bubble wrap for international shipping.

It doesn’t take long for Alora’s sleek black car to reach her enormous brownstone near Gramercy Park. When I walk up the steps, I almost forget that Mom’s not climbing up behind me. The last day has passed in a haze, with no Mom, no Cookie, and no Lark or Lyssa. I don’t even have Judica around to restore some balance.

When the front door opens, I almost expect to see Lark shoot through and hug me. But of course, she can’t be seen by the guards without giving away the fact that I never executed her.

Alora walks through the large front entry and starts up the stairs that curve up and to the right. “Chancy, you and Edam are this direction.”

Frederick and one of his guards, Arlington, follow on my heels quicker than Edam.

“I doubt she will need a door guard in my household,” Alora says. “I vouch for each of my indoor staff, and I have a fully functioning security crew. I promise we will keep my sister safe while she’s in residence.”

Frederick frowns.

“It’s fine,” I say. “Let him do his job.”

Alora bobs her head and continues onward. We walk up the stairs and follow her down the hallway to the right, passing several of her guards along the way. She points at the first door on the left. “This one’s yours, Chancy.” She indicates the door across the hall. “That’s Edam’s. I figured you’d want him close, since you worked so hard to secure his release.”

I glance sideways at Edam, but he just walks into his room and closes the door. I do the same, and Alora follows me inside.

She gestures at my bed, where a brand new phone is sitting on top of a basket of other basics, like shampoo, towels, granola bars, and mineral water. “Edam’s angry.”

I bob my head. “I saved his life. Who knew that would piss him off?”

Alora’s mouth turns up into a smile, but her eyes are full of pity. “Would Judica really have killed him? Or was she angry and hurting and looking for someone to blame?”

“Even so, best case scenario, he’d be sitting in a cell if I left him there.”

“And now?” she asks. “Now he’s, what?”

If I return and die, he does too. And if I abdicate, he’ll have to run. Which probably looks bleaker than a cell to Mr. Perfect Evian Posterboy.

She sighs. “Your heart was in the right place.”

Which is exactly why I ought to abdicate. Having a good heart does not qualify me to rule Alamecha. In fact, from what I’ve seen so far, it makes me less suited to the job. “He was in line to take over for Balthasar before all of this happened. Which means my mom’s death and the fallout was nearly as bad for him as it has been for me.” I drop my bag on the ground and collapse onto the enormous sleigh bed in the middle of the room.

“What’s done is done,” Alora says. “He’ll either forgive you or he won’t, but you can’t worry about it. Right now you need to focus on training. You have to do your best to be ready to fight your sister in ten days. I can’t have you abdicating because you think it’s your only choice. I’ve already ordered my staff to clear the entire ballroom on the fourth floor and to clean that room as often as necessary.”

“It’s equally important that I spend some time with humans to find out whether I want to return to evian life at all.”

Alora smiles. “I’ve arranged for that too. I enrolled you, Lark, and Edam in a local private school. If you think you can trust him. I assumed you could, but if I’m wrong. . .”

I think about how he saved me, and then I consider our recent interactions. “I do believe I can trust him. I don’t love his attitude, but at least he’s not pretending he’s fine with things when he’s not. And now, like it or not, his fate is kind of tied to mine.”

“Unless Judica asks him to kill you, and he does it to get back into her good graces.”

Shoot.

A tap at the door, in the corner I assumed was the closet, startles me.

“Come in,” Alora says.

The door opens, and Lark walks through. She rushes toward me, a mournful expression on her face. I don’t even realize I’m sobbing against her shoulder until she pulls back. “I’m so sorry, Chancy. Even with how everything went down with my mother, I didn’t wish that for you. I truly didn’t.”

“I know.”

Three days ago, we had moms who would kill for us. Now we’re both alone. Alora excuses herself, and I catch Lark up on everything. For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, it feels like there’s enough air in the room for me to breathe.

A tap on the door to the hallway makes me jump. Lark hops up and points at the door she came through earlier. “I’ll head back to my room,” she mouths.

“How?”

“Passageway,” she whispers.

Wow, my family likes their hidden corridors. “Fine.”

After Lark has shut the door behind her, I count to five. I’m walking to the door when there’s a louder, stronger, more insistent knock.

“Hang on, I’m coming. Geez.”

I’m expecting Alora or Frederick. I am not expecting a broody Edam, white t-shirt molded to his perfectly sculpted chest. I do not sigh, or breathe deeply, or widen my eyes. Or at least, I try not to.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I assume you’re ready to begin training,” he says.

“Training? I’ve been here for fifteen minutes.”

He nods. “Right. I allowed you some extra time in case you needed to use the restroom.”

My cheeks heat. “You’re training me? I thought Alora would be the one—”

“She’s a melodics master.” Edam snorts. “You have ten days. If you want to die, suit yourself.”

“You think you can teach me enough cladius to compensate for more than ten years of subpar melodics training?”

“I think I’m your best option.”

“Alora mentioned the ballroom is also her training arena.”

“She has a ballroom in Manhattan?” Edam asks.

“Ballerina,” I say.

“Fine. Let’s go then.”

I shoo him out the door so I can change, and a few moments later I’m standing across from Edam in a vast ballroom that’s at least as large as Mom’s outdoor courtyard. Last week I hadn’t spoken ten words in the last five years to the man the world assumed would marry my wretched sister. Now he’s trying to teach me to kill her.

He extends a knife toward me, holding the blade with two fingers so the hilt is out.

“We’re using daggers now?” I ask.

“Hand-to-hand, bladed weapons, we need to mix it up. You will choose the mode of combat, but you can’t make that choice until we’ve isolated your strengths.”

“I certainly hope no one chooses hand-to-hand for a battle to the death. That sounds... protracted,” I say. “But I’m not very good with swords.”

“That’s why we’re starting small. We can work our way up. I’m going to focus on teaching you moves that will use your current skill set and improve upon it, things you can learn quickly. If you want to defeat Judica, you’ll have to triple your past efforts.”

“But three times zero is still. . .”

Edam rolls his eyes. We start with one knife each and move to two. Every time I try to throw them, he stops me. “We need to work on your weaknesses, not your strengths.”

We identify plenty of those. An hour later, I’m exhausted and covered with blood from a million swipes with his daggers. Alora’s ballroom looks like the set of a bad slasher movie. “How long are we planning to do this?”

Edam pulls a sword from the weapons rack and hands it to me. “All day today. You’re way behind.”

“So far you’ve been slicing me to ribbons, but I haven’t learned a thing.”

“That’s not true. You’re healing faster.”

I think back to what my mom said about pain training. I guess I’m getting the integrated version.