The Reckless Reign (Book 3, The Culled Crown Series)

Chapter 64

The royal family room.
Oredison Palace, Gazda.
Sometime past two in the afternoon.

I was already in the royal family room, the second to last gown already half-buttoned onto the mannequin, when I finally found Arden's lanterns again. I'd search and search, unable to locate them—not with my ability so frayed and trembling. What I'd just done—it had been the biggest use of force I'd done in weeks, months even. And I'd struggled to regain control afterward.

My ability wanted to roam. It wanted to finish what it had started in the library. So, it took a while to find the lanterns and tether my ability there again—watchful and waiting.

I'd only had a pulse on it for about five minutes before I felt Arden's oil lantern flicker out. My fingers grew still against the silk laces of the gown's corset as I fought to remember what that meant.

The oil lantern was for the arena.

If he'd doused that flame, it meant that Caine's men had left the palace and gone to the arena. It meant that we'd succeeded and the arena was burning. Some, if not the brunt of Caine's forces, would have been injured or killed in that blast. The thought—that fragile step towards victory—stole my breath away.

The one remaining lantern still tugged at my ability—the flame difficult to track amongst so many other fires. And yet, I knew it. I recognized the heat pulsing from the kerosine lamp. When Arden put it out—it would mean that everyone was in their place. It would be my signal to light the explosives.

Timing will be everything, Birk had said.

One more gown.

I finished with the bodice and adjusted the sleeves, doing up the pearl buttons on the black velvet cuffs. I thought it was an awfully grand dress to be positioned in the family room, but then I'd seen the set Madame Leroux had created. It was holiday scene; boxes of presents were stacked before a roaring fire decked with evergreen garland. The entire room was warm and spacious and bright.

In another world, I could imagine Uri and Cohen playing here as children. Despite everything, I could picture Viera sitting on the floor with them, Larkin curled into her side, a book propped open in Britta's lap as she read some sort of fairytale aloud. Something that would make the king laugh.

That was the childhood they'd deserved. As I turned to leave the room, the final dress tucked into the crook of my arm, I knew that it was not the childhood they'd had. I wondered when the last time a true family had inhabited these rooms. When was the last time laughter rang freely down these corridors?

I didn't shut the door as I left. I wanted the fire caused by the explosion to travel. I wanted it to eat its way across the plush carpets and heavy curtains. I wanted it to feast on the closed bedroom doors. I'd make sure it did.

Two hallways down, up a little set of stairs, and I was outside the royal bedchamber. The mannequin was posed near one of the tall bay windows in the hallways, its fake hand resting on the sill as if it were admiring the view. I looked out the windows too and gasped—the blue sky was punctuated by rolling black clouds of smoke. They flowed from the middle of the city like a gushing wound. Farther off, I could see more spots of smoke, other areas the rebels had attacked.

I knew if I took my hand off of Arden's lantern long enough, I could reach out and feel the heat of those fires. I wanted to, truly, but I was afraid of missing the moment—the signal. I was afraid I wouldn't time things correctly and I'd end up putting the people I loved at risk.

I shook my head, scattering the thought as I began to pull the gown over the mannequin's stump of a head. I'd just finished with the buttons when I heard the creak of a door and the sound of heavy footsteps.