Chapter 41: Sister

The demand hung in the hot air between us, heavier than the golden bangles on my wrists.

‘Give me your sister. Give me Hera.’

The sheer audacity of it robbed me of breath for a moment. Hera was my twin, my other half, the gentle scholar to my dutiful princess. She spent her days in the temple archives, smelling of old papyrus and dried lavender, while I navigated council meetings and impending war. To hand her over to this barbarian, this leader of the beast-men howling at our gates, was unthinkable.

"You are mad," I spat, stepping back from him, the heavy amethyst silk of my gown rustling angrily. "Hera is a priestess of the inner sanctum. She has done nothing to you or your people. I would sooner throw myself from this balustrade than surrender her to your brutality."

The Warlord didn't flinch at my fury. He remained terrifyingly still. Only his jaw tightened.

"She has done everything to my people," he growled, his voice dropping to a register that vibrated in the stone beneath my feet. "Do you think we marched from the northern tundras for sport, Princess? We came because the taint of her magic is poisoning the land. Crops wither. Calves are born two-headed. And my pack..." He paused, a flicker of genuine pain crossing his hardened features. "My kin are losing their minds to the madness she whispers on the wind."

"Lies," I countered, though a cold seed of doubt sprouted in my gut. Hera’s studies had grown… obsessive of late. She spent nights deep in the catacombs beneath the citadel, forbidden places.

"Are they?" He stepped closer again, crowding me against the stone railing. The heat coming off him was immense, an animal warmth that made my own blood betray me, rushing to the surface of my skin.

He reached out, not to touch my face this time, but to grab my wrist. His grip was iron, his calloused thumb pressing against my racing pulse.

"You feel it, Sylvania," he murmured, my name like rolling off his tongue like a caress. "The pull. The resonance between us. It is the only reason your city isn't already burning. I recognized you the moment I saw you on the battlements three days ago. My soul knew yours."

A shudder ripped through me. It was true. When our eyes had locked across the battlefield, the noise of the war engines had faded. I had felt a terrifying sense of inevitability. A belonging that terrified me more than his sword.

Hold on, a tiny, distant voice whispered in the back of my mind. Remember who you are. You are Sylvania Rodgers. He is Vesper Bianchi. This is a memory.

The present-day thought flickered and died, swamped by the overwhelming emotions of the Princess.

"That resonance," Vesper continued, his green eyes burning into mine, "is nature trying to balance the scales. But your sister is tipping them toward chaos. She is delving into arts forbidden by the gods themselves. She seeks immortality, Sylvania. And she doesn't care who she consumes to get it."

He released my wrist with a shove, turning away to look out over his amassed army.

"You have until sunset," he said coldly. "Bring me Hera, and the Citadel stands under my protection. Refuse, and my wolves will feast within your walls by moonrise. And I will not be able to stop them from tearing you apart."

He didn't wait for an answer. He vaulted over the balcony railing, dropping three stories to the courtyard below, landing with a heavy thud before striding toward the gates without looking back.

I was left trembling in the heat, torn between loyalty and a terrifying, dawning truth.

I ran from the balcony, through the cool marble corridors of the palace, down winding stairs to the lower levels where the air grew thick with incense and shadows. Hera’s chambers.

I burst through the heavy carved doors without knocking.

The room smelled cloyingly sweet—jasmine covering something metallic, like dried blood. Hera was sitting at a large polished wooden table covered in scrolls, ancient tablets, and bowls filled with strange, shimmering liquids.

She looked exactly like me, yet entirely different. Where I was sun-kissed and rigid with duty, she was pale, soft, her dark hair unbound and flowing around her shoulders. She looked fragile. Innocent.

She looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Sister? You look pale. Has the beast bellowed his demands?"

"He wants you, Hera," I said, breathlessly, closing the door behind me and leaning against it. "He says you are poisoning his lands with forbidden magic. He threatened to burn the city if I don't deliver you by sunset."

Hera didn't gasp. She didn't cry or appear fearful or shocked. She smiled.

It was a slow, stretching smile that didn't reach her eyes. She stood up, the silk of her white gown whispering over the stone floor as she walked toward me.

"Of course he does," she purred, her voice dripping with sultry amusement. "The poor, simple wolf. He fears what he cannot understand."

"Hera, this isn't a game! He has an army at our door. Are his accusations true? Are you practicing the dark arts?"

She stopped inches from me, reaching out a cool, pale hand to stroke my cheek. Her touch made me flinch.

"Dark is such a subjective term, dear sister. I am merely seeking… enhancement. Evolution. The world belongs to the powerful, Sylvania. Why should we be content with being mere mortals when we could be gods?"

My stomach dropped. The Warlord was right. The innocent scholar was a mask.

"You're mad," I whispered, pulling away from her touch. "I have to tell the council. We have to surrender you to save the city."

"Oh, I don't think you will." Hera laughed, turning back to her table. She picked up a small obsidian dagger, idly testing the edge against her thumb. A bead of bright red blood welled up.

"And why not?" I demanded, trying to find the strength to arrest my own twin.

Hera turned back to me, her eyes glittering with malice.

"Because, sweet sister, I've seen the way you look at him from the high tower. I've felt the sickening pull of destiny between you two. You're obsessed with the beautiful beast."

She licked the blood from her thumb, her gaze predatory.

"And because of that, you're going to help me kill him."