“Here? Living here? In this house?” Evelaena seemed confused by the question.
“Yes. Or… well, anyone. Any of…” I settled on, thinking this would go over well, “any more of our family.”
The records didn’t speak of anyone else. But hell, Lahor was very, very isolated. Who knows?
She stared blankly at me, then burst into high, manic laughter. “Of course not. There’s no one else here. He killed them all.”
I didn’t know why I wasn’t expecting this answer. I stilled, not sure how to respond.
She paused. Turned. Peered over her shoulder at me.
“Everything here changed that day,” she said. “The day he left.”
Evelaena was much younger than Vincent had been. And yet, I hadn’t done the exact math—had assumed she was born after Vincent’s ascension. But that was a hasty assumption. It hit me just how hasty it had been when I looked into her eyes now.
“You were there.” I meant it as a question. It came out as a statement.
She nodded, a slow smile spreading over her face. “I was,” she whispered, conspiratorially, like we were telling ghost stories. “He did it before he left for the Kejari. Set up all the pieces. Even then, everyone knew he would win. Especially him. So he had to set up everything beforehand. Get rid of everyone who stood in his way.” She touched the wall, like stroking the arm of an old friend. “Lahor was beautiful a long time ago. Kings lived here. It is a safe place. These walls sheltered kings during the reign of our enemies. Perhaps they will do so again, one day.” Her gaze slipped back to me, amused. “All the little kings were here, and one king slaughtered all the rest.”
Little kings.
Vincent had always spoke so dismissively about his own rise to power, and all the things he had done to facilitate it. But none of it was simple. None of it was small.
“I hid here,” Evelaena said.
“Here?”
“Here.” She pointed—to the bed. “Underneath it. I was so small, but I remember.” She tapped her temple. “He did the older ones first, then the children. His father, my father, their sisters. He probably thought he needed to do those when his strength was up, because it would be difficult. I think my father gave him a good fight.”
She spoke of all of this dreamily, calmly, as if speculating on history rather than the deaths of her family.
“Then he came here. He got Georgia, Marlena, Amith.”
“Children?” I asked quietly.
“Oh, yes. So many of us. And then there were none.”
“Why did he let you live?” I asked. “Because your birth position couldn’t threaten him?”
Evelaena laughed, like I’d just said something very charming and foolish. “Birth position didn’t matter. My uncle was a very thorough man.”
Then, before I knew what was happening, she reached for the straps of her dress and slid them off her shoulders. The light fabric pooled around her waist, leaving her torso and breasts bare—and revealing a star-shaped scar right between them.
“He didn’t let me live,” she said. “He dragged me out from under there and put his sword through my chest. I lay right here beside my brother and sister’s bodies. I thought my playmates and I would go to the next world together.” She smiled serenely. “But the Mother was with me that night. The Mother chose me to live.”
Goddess.
I asked, “How old were you?”
“Five summers, perhaps.”
My throat thickened.
I knew what Vincent was capable of. It shouldn’t have shocked me—disgusted me—to think of him slaughtering children when he slaughtered the rest of his family. And yet, the knowledge that this was the truth hiding behind his nonchalant non-answers, behind his matter-of-fact acceptance…
I have never hidden from you, Vincent whispered in my ear, the fact that power is a bloody, bloody business, my little serpent.
No. But it had taken me far too long to look closely at what that meant.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I said quietly.
Evelaena’s strange solemnity broke, melting back to her wine-dipped euphoria. A grin spread across her bloodstained mouth. “I’m not. It all went as the Mother wanted it to. And it wasn’t so very horrible, considering all that we gained.”
It was horrible, though. It was so horrible I had to bite my tongue hard to keep from saying so.
“I know he knew that, too,” she said. “That I survived for a reason. To look after Lahor. Someone needed to. But he was so very busy. I never received any answers to my letters.”