Chapter 2

Life settled into a quiet routine, or what passed for it.

I tried to be useful, to show my gratitude.

One afternoon, I was bringing refreshments to Malakor' s study. He was in there with Kael.

The door was slightly ajar. I heard their voices, low and serious.

I paused, not wanting to interrupt.

Then Kael spoke, his voice clearer.

"Father, I still feel... uneasy about Mother. What Lyra made me do with the Draught..."

My heart stopped.

Lyra? Made Kael do?

Malakor' s voice was a low rumble. "Kael, we've been over this. Lyra found the idea of a memory-plagued Earth 'exquisitely amusing,' as she put it. It was a childish prank that went too far."

A childish prank?

Kael sounded distressed. "But Mother suffered for five hundred years because of it. Because of me."

"And I knew she was innocent," Malakor said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth he showed me.

"I could have spoken up. But the Conclave was baying for blood. Someone had to be sacrificed to calm them, to protect Lyra. Sacrificing Seraphina preserved my standing, our family's position. It was necessary."

The tray in my hands trembled.

The crystal glasses clinked softly.

I couldn't breathe.

Necessary?

To protect Lyra? His ambitious, manipulative sister?

He knew. He knew I was innocent, and he let me rot in that hell for five centuries.

To save himself. To shield Lyra.

My son, Kael, was the one who switched the Draught.

At Lyra's instigation.

The world tilted. The floor felt like it was falling away.

My family. My beloved Malakor, my precious Kael.

They were the architects of my torment.