Chapter 70
Is Judica begging me to end her suffering the way I’d put down a wounded horse? Has she been in unbearable pain this whole time? Was she lashing out because she can’t heal the injuries she has sustained? I stare into her deep blue eyes, eyes that remind me so much of our mother. My eyes are the same, but seeing them staring at me from Judica’s face, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt.
Even if she killed Mom, even if she’s the devil everyone sees, I can’t kill my own twin.
Alora and Edam and Inara all explained why she must die. Even Noah, a human, understands why I should end her. I wonder how many people explained to my mother why I had to die. How many people did she ignore when she spared me? How much did that decision cost? When will the payment for her mistake end?
If I don’t kill Judica, the Five will see me as easy prey. They’ll attack Alamecha. Judica will remain a threat, maybe forever. And most of all, I know Judica wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if our situations were reversed.
I still can’t do it.
I know me, and my strength is not in death or destruction. My power does not derive from hate. I want to build and heal. I want to right the wrongs of the world, not create more injustice and more devastation.
Judica sees my weakness for what it is.
Even with a sword rammed in her own chest, she brings all her strength to bear and swings her sword around and down on mine, chopping the short sword in two. The blow tears her chest open in the process. She reaches down and drags the end of the blade from her body, slicing her palms, but freeing her chest to heal. Her maniacal expression causes me to slide backward, putting some space between us. I throw the hilt of the short sword to the edge of the ring and bring mother’s sword up and around to protect me. Before Judica can heal her hands and grab her sword, I press the razor sharp edge against her throat.
“I don’t want to kill you,” I say.
“No, you can’t kill me. You’re too soft.” The effort of speaking makes her cough, and she sprays blood all over my shirt.
I shove Mom’s blade forward, slicing into her neck. “Yield.”
“Never,” she says. “I won’t, I can’t yield. I was born to rule.”
“You’ve chosen badly, Judica.”
She snarls. “What do you know about my choices? You don’t know me at all.”
I clench my hand on the hilt, trying to convince her that I can do it. I need her to cede the loss. It won’t keep her from challenging me again tomorrow, but at least for today, she must back down. I don’t realize how long I’ve delayed until I see skin spread across her exposed abdomen.
When I look back up at her face, she smiles again, but there’s no joy in it.
She leaps backwards and throws her feet up at the same time, knocking the hilt of Mom’s old blade from my hand. She catches the end of it, blood spraying outward. She slams it down behind her and it sinks several inches into the wooden floor of the room below, outside of the raised arena, out of bounds. Judica tosses her head at me and grins bitterly as she stands.
“You can’t do what needs to be done,” she says. “You never could. Mother saw it and she protected you from me, but she’s not here anymore. You can’t even keep hold of your sword.”
She looks pleased, and she should. She’s facing me armed, while I have nothing. The next moment is a blur of pain and destruction as I block with my forearms and shins and heal the damage as quickly as I can. I listen for her melodic line but hear nothing. I’m scrambling, desperate to locate some kind of pattern, but I’m too busy deflecting death blows into maiming ones. She comes after me like a dervish, her sword flashing, raining jabs and slices down on me with murderous glee. Judica’s toying with me like a lynx with a wounded robin.
“You’ve improved, Chancery.” Judica pauses. “You heal much faster. Maybe faster than me.”
“I didn’t understand pain before.”
Judica barks a laugh. “You think you do now?”
“We’ve both suffered in the past week.”
Judica lost her mother, only to discover that Mom had betrayed her, assigning her birthright to another. Then she challenged me and spent a week assuming I’d return with her old boyfriend to kill her. At every turn Judica has been beaten, abused, and rejected. She must be strong, because otherwise she is nothing. Now that I see her for who she is, I’m overwhelmed by her beauty.
I would have curled up and died in her place. The weight of her despair would have leveled me.
How might we have changed if she had a chance to be anything but the bad guy? How have our circumstances carved us into the mirror opposites we have become?
If I want to heal Alamecha, I need to start at home.
Judica redoubles her efforts, tearing into me like a ravaging beast, lashing out at me as retribution for all the pain she’s in. Her next strike slices through skin and sinew and shatters my collar bone. A kick spins me to the right and when I try to correct my position, she brings my head down against a knee strike.
But all of this was never about rage or anger. It was always about a deep and abiding pain, an unfathomable suffering. In the very nanosecond she launches her final strike at me, her enormous broadsword arcing toward my unmoving neck, I drop, insanely fast, to the mat. My hands come together and slam into the bottom of her fingers where they clasp the hilt of her sword, knocking it free. I slap it with my full force and send it flying from the arena. It lodges in a side wall, inches away from a child’s shocked face.
The next few moments are a series of strikes, kicks, and punches. I’m almost an observer, my body moving easily, quickly, methodically. Judica rushes to catch me and regain her position, because she doesn’t comprehend what has happened. I’ve finally found peace. I can’t let her die without ever knowing joy or experiencing love.
I’ll set things right.
I pull her up by her hair and punch her square in the face, knocking her back and breaking her nose. I leap from the arena and grab Mom’s sword. I jump back in just as Judica regains her feet.
“Mom always loved you,” I say. “Just as much as she loved me. A new baby would not have changed how she felt about us. It would not have destroyed you. That baby would have set both of us free.”
Judica’s lips draw back. “You don’t know anything.”
“Mom loved you to the end, and so do I,” I say. “That’s why I will not kill you today. I don’t care whether you yield. Today, I yield to you.”
I close my eyes, then, and picture my mom. Judica rises from the mat and advances. I open my eyes and lift the sword to her, one of my hands under the hilt, one under the blade.
“Kill me,” I say. “If that’s what it takes for you to forgive Mom and me, then do it. I’m so sorry I let you down. I love you.”
I close my eyes again and wait, but the blow never comes.
When I open my eyes, tears stream down Judica’s face. She drops the sword and sits down in front of me. “No, I yield.”
No one moves or says a word. I collapse next to Judica and take her hand in mine. She doesn’t resist.
I only gained Judica’s acceptance through offering her what she wanted. Because in that moment, she realized it wasn’t what she really needed at all. My gesture won’t heal a lifetime of wounds, but it’s a step in the right direction. I may have to fight her again and again. She may challenge me every single time we disagree, which I’m sure will happen frequently, but I’m confident that I did the right thing for today.
For the first time since Mom died, my world is better in this moment than it was the day before.
I glance around and the audience is kneeling, every one of them. Edam, Balthasar, Larena, Noah, they’re all kneeling, waiting on me to speak. Every ruler needs a motto, a personal quote. You usually select it at the investiture, but mine comes to me in this moment.
I raise my voice so it rings from the rafters. “The smallest light still vanquishes darkness.”
I reach over and grab Mom’s ring. When I slide it on my finger, there’s absolute silence as the ring fills with power, almost as if my people can sense something is happening. Then the ring flashes brightly enough to flood the room with light. Thankfully, I don’t set off any fires or release any EMPs, but a lot of astonished faces stare back at me.
For a moment, I stand in utter silence. Then applause fills the room.