Page 6 of Kill the Queens

"It will last longenough."

Farah doubted that but didn't have the energy to fight with Idalia, not on this subject. Not as Ambrose flinched, then blinked rapidly, before she appeared to come back to reality.

"Sienna's staff is bad luck," Ambrose announced.

Idalia laughed. "I don't believe in luck."

Farah wondered if Bedesh, the god of luck, was snarling down at them right now. It wouldn't surprise her since in her experience the gods weren't all that kind.

Idalia rose from her throne. "Double your guard—"

"I've already sent troops to the border," Farah interjected.

"Double your guard. Find yourselves a king. Forget Sienna ever existed." Idalia reiterated before she swept through the room and began descending the stairs just as quickly as she had appeared.

Forget Sienna.That was Idalia's answer for everyone.For the people who had passed. Forget. Forget. Forget.

Farah couldn't forget. While she didn't so much care, she would never allow herself to forget. Even if the wicked mournful emotion never truly broke through the hard shell that surrounded her heart, she always remembered. She wanted to think that was something. It probably wasn't.

Ambrose let out a long exhale. "I don't want a husband."

"I know," Farah whispered as she watched the stairwell. When Idalia was truly gone she let go of the act she always put on for her eldest sister. Her shoulders were tight, nearly pulled up to her ears. She uncrossed her legs and one heel tapped against the floor as she bounced her leg. The edge of her teeth raked over her lip again, peeling at her skin.

"Are you taking the staff?" Ambrose asked, she smoothed her hands over her skirt.

"Yes."

"It will kill you," Ambrose said with sudden sobriety.

"Why do you say that?" Farah's leg was really bouncing now. Anxiety was flowing through her body the more she thought about the Fae leaking into their kingdom and the husband she would have to endure.

"The voices said that." She kept her voice soft, barely even a whisper, but it still managed to echo in the room, even echoing in Farah's mind.

Farah was worried about her sister. The voices were worsening and she didn't know what she should do. What could she do?

"Have you had a warlock look into your mind?" Farah asked.

Ambrose shook her head and her one misplaced curl bounced against her cheek. "I don't want them to have access. That feels like..."

Farah jumped in as her sister trailed off. "An invasion. Like you're giving up part of your power and leaving yourself vulnerable."

"Yes."

The sisters might be totally different from one another but they all were the same at their core. Rotten. Greedy. Desperate for power. It hadn't started that way. It'd all been so innocent at first. How did they get to this point?

She already knew the answer but Farah didn't want to admit it. Not out loud. Not to herself. Not ever.

Pushing up off the arms of the throne, she stood and made her way to Ambrose. Farah smiled and cupped her sister’s cheek. Ambrose looked up at her and grinned, leaning into the touch. That smile quickly faded as her gaze fogged.

Gods, Farah hated what was happening to her sister’s mind.

"The voices are getting worse," Farah stated plainly.

Ambrose gently pulled her sister's hand away and clasped her fingers in her own. She pressed a small kiss against her knuckles. "The voices are the least of my worries." She stood and wrapped Farah up in another hug.Her breath tickled at Farah's ear. "This will be our last goodbye unless our fortunes change. Know that I love you."

A shiver danced down Farah's spine and spread into goosebumps that chased over her skin. Ambrose wasn't just speaking out of fear...

She had given Farah an omen of death.