Chapter 68

“I need proof that you’ve located the ring before the fight,” Judica says. “Larena can help with that. And I don’t want you wearing it during the duel.”

Edam’s eyes widen, but Inara meets my gaze steadily. We both know why Judica doesn’t want me wearing it, and I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to be torched during a fight either. Now that I’m here, facing Judica down, I want to cry. Poor Mom. Her greatest fear realized, her daughters fighting one another to the death. “Agreed.”

Judica sighs heavily, almost like she’s dreading this as much as me. “Well, then, blood of my blood, shall we fight?”

Blood of my blood? Judica’s always been ridiculously melodramatic. “Let’s go.”

When we reach the main hallway, a familiar barking draws my attention. Duchess flies down the hall like an arrow. Mom’s dog was immaculately trained. She didn’t bark, she didn’t jump up on anyone, and she waited to come until she was called. This Duchess has lost quite a bit of weight and she leaps up once she reaches me, placing a paw on both of my shoulders and nearly bowling me over.

Edam draws his sword.

I wave him off and crouch down to eye level. Duchess licks my face, and when I start to cry, she licks my tears away. “I know,” I whisper into her ruff. “I’m hurting too.” Finally, I stand up and give her one more pat.

The guards who supported me upon my landing have joined my small force. I’m shocked by how many came to my defense. I look for Inara and find her, tripping along behind the two guards who brought her here.

“Wait,” I yell. “Release Inara.”

“Feeling guilty?” Judica asks.

I shake my head. “I didn’t do that. You did. But she’s our sister, and she deserves to walk on her own.”

Judica snorts. “You’re exhausting.” She turns to her guards. “Take her to a holding cell below pending the resolution of our disagreement.”

I consider arguing, but I’ve exhausted my leverage. At least I’ve secured Judica’s promise that she won’t harm anyone if I lose. “Draw up the papers and send them to my room. Once they’ve been signed and witnessed, I’m ready to fight.”

“Delightful,” Judica says. “Bring the ring, or all your extra terms are off.”

Frederick and Arlington lead the way, and my procession passes the training room and continues on to the throne room. The arena is already set up inside, the raised dais prepared and illuminated with the barriers erected, the majesty of Mom’s throne rising behind it. People are already assembled in rows to watch. I could have used the support of some of them back on the airstrip. Balthasar sits on the front row, and I wonder how he justified sitting over here during my plane’s landing. Maybe they didn’t know Judica planned to eliminate the need for this challenge. Or maybe they simply didn’t have the gumption to object.

I worry for my people. How could Balthasar choose between us? He trained Judica for years, but he’s known, and I believe loved, both of us. If he’s torn, how could any of my people not be confused and hurting?

Judica tosses me a white training uniform embroidered with our family sigil. A circle of thorny vines surrounding the sun signifies light in the face of adversity. Judica walks toward her room, ostensibly to change, and I head toward mine too. I sure hope I’m right about Mom’s ring.

Just before her party, I saw Mom leaving my room. She left the gown on my bed, but she could have had a servant do that. She almost never went into my room without me, and when I changed into that gown, the melodics training flute case I used as a young child but haven’t touched in over a decade fell off my bed.

It can’t be a coincidence. Right?

Noah, Edam, and Lark follow me to the door, but I ask them to wait outside. As soon as the door closes behind them, I race to my closet. It’s been ransacked, so I dig through pile after pile without luck. At the very bottom of my closet, underneath a pile of clothing, there’s a long, heavy object wrapped in brown paper. I slide it out, curious. It’s clearly not the flute case or the ring. But what it is?

I open the paper to reveal a sword in a black scabbard. I slide it out and admire the clean, smooth hilt, the sheen carrying all the way to the end. I check the balance and it’s as perfect as I expected. A few words are scrawled on the brown paper I discarded. I recognize the blade. It’s Inara’s.

Until you have your own.

A tear springs to my eye. She must have hidden this when she realized Judica wouldn’t allow her the freedom to support me, but if I use it, my twin will know with certainty that Inara stayed to help defend me and my position.

This blade would certainly help me win.

And ironically, if I lose, it would seal my older sister’s fate. I could never do that to her. I wrap the blade back up and place it where I found it, minus the part of the paper with the message scrawled on it, which I shred into tiny pieces and flush.

After I resume my search, it takes a moment, but I find it under a disheveled box of papers. A small black case, tattered and worn. I carry it over to my desk and set it down. I open it, and as I expect, the only thing in the case is a wooden flute. I pull a knife from my bedside table and slice the side of the case, peeling away the worn black velvet. It resists more than it should for such an old case.

Because it was re-glued last week.

I pull and tug and peel and it finally separates. I remove the wooden shell from the top of the inside of the case and then I can see it, stuffed on all sides with fiberfill so it won’t rattle around in the frame.

Mom’s stadium ring.

The cause of this whole nightmare. Instead of putting it on my finger, I set it on my desk and change into the white tank top with the sigil and matching fitted pants. A knock at my door startles me, and I toss a throw blanket over the ring.

“Enter,” I say.

Edam opens the door, his eyes darting around the room. “Larena is here with the paperwork you requested.”

I sigh and wave them inside. Edam insists on standing next to her, as though Larena might suddenly attack me instead of boring me to death with paperwork.

“Here’s what I want to know,” I say. “Does this give the Five a mandate to step in if Judica violates these promises?”

Larena nods. “They’d have the excuse they need to consolidate their forces and move against your sister if she doesn’t honor them.”

“Good enough.” I sign the paperwork and stand up. It’s the best I can do. “I’m ready.”

“Not quite,” Larena says.

“Excuse me?” Edam asks.

Larena lifts the lid on a box underneath the paperwork. It’s solid glass, hollowed out in the center. “I need the ring. It will sit on a platform in front of the dais. Winner takes it. That’s your consideration for this contract.”

I shake my head. “I’ll place it in the box in the ballroom, in front of Judica.”

Larena shrugs, gathers her things and leaves.

Edam takes my hand. “Are you ready?”

“Accept the world as it is,” I say.

“Or do something to change it.” He takes my hands in his and squeezes them.

I look at Noah and he smiles at me. “No frowns and fear from me. You’ll make the right choice when it’s time. I have faith in you.”

Lark doesn’t say anything, but she pulls me close for a long hug. When she finally releases me, her eyes swim with unshed tears.

It’s nice to see that a few people, at least, have faith in me. I walk toward the duel, trailed by my strongest supporters. When I reach the room, I hold Mom’s ring over my head. “I hold Enora Isadora Alamecha’s ring, the largest shard from Eve’s staridium. I will leave it here, to await the winner of this duel.”

By rights, the current Empress should wear the ring for the duel, but if it makes Judica nervous, well, I can’t fault her. Besides, this isn’t about a rock, and it never should have been. Mom made a mistake there.

Judica stands in the center of the arena. “Well met, sister. Select our method.”

I can’t stomach a hand-to-hand battle to the death, so I name the only viable alternative. “Blades.”

Judica smiles. Mom gave Judica her own blade on her tenth birthday, and she had another made for her when she turned sixteen. I don’t own one myself, and I couldn’t bring myself to implicate Inara, which means I’ll have to use one of the unclaimed practice blades. I look at the rack and trail my fingers down the length of the hilts. They vary in length, weight, and style. Curved blades, double edged, blunt tipped, decorative, simple.

I walk toward the far end where the small, light blades rest. One catches my eye. It’s mid length, thin, double edged. It’s simple, but gilded Hebrew letters are worked down the length of the blade and tiny black stone chips run down the center line. The letters in the blade almost glow. “Failure is a choice,” they say, a motto I know well. Mom’s personal motto. I lift the blade and shift it from one hand to the other.

I turn to face Judica, but before I can step into the arena, Balthasar touches my arm. “Do you know that sword?”

I shake my head.

“It was your mother’s wedding gift from my brother.”

Of course. It would have been her motto, even then. It seems fitting, to slay Mom’s murderer with her own blade, like an act of vengeance from beyond the grave.

I ascend the steps to the arena, walk inside, and pull the half wall closed.

Judica salutes with her much larger, much nastier sword. “It’s a good day to die.”