Coris froze. Blinking, he woke from his stupor, his gray eyes round.

“You are?” He breathed. His voice trembled. When Meya nodded, he broke into the widest smile of pure joy that brought his pale, gaunt face to life. He pulled her into his embrace, weak with relief.

“I knew it.” Meya linked her arms around his waist, shaking her head in annoyance even as she blinked away tears, “Why did you have to lie?”

“I can’t force you. You’re the mother. You have the final word.” Coris muttered between feverish kisses down the curve of her neck. Meya rolled her eyes.

“Well, you’re the father. You get your word, too!” She pushed apart, so they came face-to-face once more, “I can’t live the rest of my life second guessing everything you say, Coris. No more lies. No more secrets. You promised.”

Coris opened his mouth to object, but changed his mind at the sight of Meya’s glowering, flaring green eyes. Sighing, he nodded.

“You’re right, of course. I’m sorry.” He closed the gap and urged her gently back into his arms, whispering at her ear, “Thank you.”

“Aw, Lexi.” Meya groaned as she felt hot tears seeping onto the shoulder of her tunic. Coris said nothing; he merely tightened his arms around her. Meya’s own tears trickled down his hair as she combed her fingers through it.

“You can’t fool nobody, honestly. I felt you touching and kissing my belly when you thought I was asleep.” She grumbled as together they swayed in the night breeze. Coris froze.

“You weren’t?” He croaked, his cheek burning against her neck. Meya snorted.

“I was, but your hands and lips are so cold, I woke up.”

“Oh.”

They fell silent for a while. Coris drew circles on her belly, his eyes on the Blue Mountains, lost in thought. Meya gazed down at the sea of flat rooftops below, feeling Coris’s heart beating against her back.

“Do you think we should cut that deal with Hasif?” He asked quietly. Meya considered it for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“Well, if it was me, anything to get the victims’ memories back as soon as possible. But that sets a bad precedence, doesn’t it?” She met his gaze. As he broke away, she glimpsed conflict instead of despair. He was frowning, his eyes fixed on the banister with an intensity that could bore through stone. He wasn’t searching for a solution; it was a battle within.

Meya freed herself from his loose embrace and spun around, eyes narrowed.

“You’ve found a way to make her talk, haven’t you?”

Coris’s eyebrows gave an involuntary jolt. Catching himself, he forced them back into a frown.

“I haven’t.”

“Coris, don’t lie.” Meya shook her head. Coris rolled his eyes.

“Why would I? I normally don’t enjoy looking stupid.” He flounced off to the far corner of the balcony. Meya pursued.

“Why can’t you tell me? If you got a thought, let’s hear it!”

“I haven’t, so stop pestering me!”

“You wouldn’t ask what I think if you didn’t have another way!”

“I don’t want to return to what I was, alright?!”

Coris whirled around with a blast of fire. Meya froze in her tracks, staring wide-eyed at his flashing eyes as he stood panting. Ashamed, he hung his head and turned away.

“I was a monster.” He rasped, his voice strangled, “Perhaps, I still am. I’ve tried my best to smother that side of me, but it keeps rearing its head. I pressured Zier to die for The Axel. I called the shots that brought Persephia down. I tried to manipulate Arinel to give up her mother’s research, or else experiment on herself! Father must keep reminding me to choose the kind alternative. The choice you chose, that saved my life. How could I betray that by turning my back on the very thing you stood for?”

Silence fell as Meya stared at his emaciated, anguished profile. All that remained were the faint, fading hum of the city as its last inhabitants ambled along the road that led home. Meanwhile, the chorus of crickets swelled by the second as if to replace it.

She’d never imagined the impact of what she’d done to be so profound and lasting, considering she hadn’t actually saved his life that time—Draken would never have harmed Coris. Yet, he had cherished the heart behind the act, had held her as his standard. The knowledge was a warm balm as well as a douse of ice.

One slow yet resolute step after another, she walked towards him, shaking her head,

“Coris, I chose to trust Gillian, and all the guests at our wedding party would have died if it weren’t for you.” Coris didn’t budge, so she persisted,

“I chose to let Agnes deal with Persephia, and Zier would have died if it weren’t for you. We tried diplomacy with Amoriah, didn’t we? Where’s it gotten us? Those Greeneyes would still be stuck in that brothel, if I hadn’t taken a leaf out of your rune glossary and threatened Hyacinth with famine!”

Meya’s flailing arms fell to her sides with a slap. Coris finally turned back, his eyebrows furrowed, a mournful look in his eyes. She stared at him as she panted for breath and waited out her tirade.

“I did what I thought was right, but it only paid off because it was you.” She resumed, calmer now, “You made Cristoria learn the hard way, and it backfired. That doesn’t mean there won’t ever be a time that calls for an ultimatum.”

“Someone will know exactly what needs to be done, most times. Someone will do it, sometimes. But it’s not even every Miracle Fest that you find someone who could be both. Especially when he’d go down in history as a monster. Maybe, that’s what makes a leader.”

Yes, she’d found her answer. It was not one’s birth that determined if one were fit to lead, but the sheer strength of will to sacrifice for the many. To take up the mantle and wear its crushing weight while standing tall in the face of one’s greatest fear, whether power had come before one by luck or misfortune, by will or necessity. And in her eyes, the Hadrian heir had proven he possessed what it took.

Coris averted his eyes, dithering. Meya raised her chained-together hands and cupped his cheeks.

“If it helps at all, you’ll never be a monster to me.” She whispered, “I know the man behind the beginning. I know whatever he does will be to protect what he holds dear.”

“Meya—” Coris called hoarsely, grateful yet skeptical. Meya leaned ever closer, her eyes never once leaving his,

“I need you to make the choice. You’ve given me enough choices I’ve proven time and again I’m not ready for. I still have much to learn. How better than to watch my mentor in action?”

Meya cocked her head alongside what she hoped was a cheerful smile. Coris pursed his lips, eyes wide with fear. Yet, Meya did not waver. At long last, he sighed, nodded, and relayed his plan to her. Once he had finished, Meya nodded, her face grim.

“I’m exploiting your people. To destroy one of your own. I must have you agree to this, at the least.” Coris murmured, his face downcast. Meya warmed his hands between hers.

“I trust your judgment. Do what you must—but maybe run it past your father also. You’re gambling The Axel, too, after all.”

Meya hastily added, chuckling. Coris didn’t laugh. A spasm of pain crossed his face. He extracted his hand and ran the back of his fingers down her hair.

“How have I tainted you.” He lamented. Meya shook her head, her smile waning to sad and exhausted.

“I was never pure.” She reassured him, shrugging, “I was naive, Coris. I gotta face reality. I keep forgetting not everyone’s like you. That’s why I got tricked so much.”

Coris’s hand reached the tips of her hair, yet he refused to let go, still toying idly with it. Sighing, Meya leaned her forehead against his bony arm, closing her eyes.

“All these years, it was as if I was searching for you in the back of my mind. I kept trusting men who felt like you. Even before I remembered you, I’ve always loved you.”

Coris didn’t respond; she felt his body tense momentarily then relax. Gently, he tilted her face up by the chin, sealing her confession with his kiss. He ran his fingers down her arms, trembling with guilt as he passed over the ice-cold shackles on her wrists to reach her hands. Meya pressed her lips harder against his to comfort him.

Past the fluttering curtains, in the brightly-lit room behind, Zier Hadrian stood and watched in silence as his brother held the chained and manacled Greeneye peasant girl. Then, without a sound, he turned on his heel and left the room, his head bowed and his heart heavy, suffocating under the weight of the words he had overheard.

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After suffering the trample of hundreds of feet throughout the day, the hallways of Hyacinth Palace were finally given respite.

Zier traipsed down the corridor, guided by the blinding, flickering glints of wall lamps on the violet spider-patterned tiles. The atmosphere carried a scent of sorts, not unlike that of the night six years ago he spent waiting before his brother’s bedchamber with Simon.

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Bishop Riddell and a dozen healers had went inside with his parents. They trooped out shaking their heads, muttering words of pity for the poor boy. Father and Mother lingered a little longer, emerged looking defeated, and beckoned them inside.

Without moonlight, the room would have been pure black. Coris laid on the bed, his cold, lifeless gray eyes boring holes into the ceiling. It had been days since he sipped his last dose of Lady Cristoria’s poison. One wouldn’t be able to see the agony he had suffered, the injuries he must now carry for life, looking at his plump face and bulging belly. The stench of blood hung crimson in the air.

Coris showed no signs he’d noticed them. After a minute dithering, Simon mustered the courage to speak,

“How are you feeling?”

“Have my parents left?”

Simon and Zier met eyes. It hadn’t crossed both of their minds to check.

“I…guess?” Simon offered his best shot.

“Then have a look through the keyhole and answer me again.” commanded Coris coolly. Simon’s eyes hardened, but he bit his tongue and strode off. He bent down, peeped through the keyhole, then returned.

“They’ve left.”

Coris’s eyes remained on the ceiling. Zier noticed his pudgy hand fidgeting, trembling fingers caressing a tarnished silvery arrowhead that gleamed rainbow in the moonlight.

“Father assigned you to assist and protect me in my frail state. We all know that’s a lie.” He said, his voice level. He wasn’t the sly, smug Coris who relished in scheming and bullying those of lesser intellect. Nor the kind, brotherly Coris he’d been after he escaped his kidnapping in Crosset, either. Zier didn’t know who—what his brother was. Before Coris, people would call him a prodigy. Behind, a monster. Either way, he wasn’t human.

“The Axel is all that matters. Always has been and always will be. To ensure you have the best chance of success, I must tell you the truth. The Axel is with Zier.”

Simon whipped around, eyes bulging. Zier seized up in fear. He hung his head, trembling under the weight of the fate he’d roped both his brothers into.

“You will protect him while maintaining your appearance as my decoy. He holds The Axel. He’s the only remaining heir to the Hadrian seat. Should the time come when you must choose, you’ll leave me to die and protect him. Can I trust you to do just that?”

“But, Coris—” stammered Simon, scared as was to be expected of a twelve-year-old.

“Can I trust you, Simon?”

A dreadful silence followed. Zier braved a peek and saw, to his just as much as Simon’s surprise, a plea in those silvery eyes. For something much deeper than duty, much closer than Hadrian. Powerful enough to transform Simon’s fear into courage, as he looked long and hard at Zier, then turned back with a nod.

“Yes. Yes, you can.”

Coris smiled. That stupid saintly smile Zier would soon despise.

“Thank you. I’ll be of some use in death, at the least.” His voice breaking, he heaved a long, shivering sigh as he gripped the arrowhead ever tighter. Only recently, Zier understood why. It was proof there existed a soul in the three lands he believed had truly cared for him as the lonely boy he was.

Tears rolled down Coris’s cheeks. He flipped on his side, dragging the blanket over his head.

“Coris—” Simon began.

“Go,” ordered Coris, his voice thick. His head hung, Simon shuffled away. The door closed with a gentle snap behind him. A strangled sob issued from shivering bundle on the bed,

“You’re not worthless. You’re not worthless. You’re not worthless.”

He chanted, willing it to come true. And, for the first time, Zier realized there was a human beneath the skin of the monster he’d hated. He wanted to let him know he was still needed. That he needed a big brother he wanted to believe truly loved him. He didn’t want him to surrender and die.

Zier reached out a nervous hand, resting it over the spot he guessed was his brother’s hand. Coris tensed. Zier was afraid he’d chase him away, but he warmed to the touch and broke down, sobbing as he had never done.

“I’m sorry.” Zier whispered, sniffling, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Coris shook his head.

“Just eat your greens. And use the chamberpot. If Hadrian fell because The Axel ended up lost in some cesspit, I’d kill you.” He snapped, embarrassed.

Zier never did end up passing The Axel, of course. Months wore on into years. They grew close, closer to the brothers they were supposed to be. Zier read and played chess with Coris, set aside his pride and let his brother displace some of the refreshing air in his head with stuffy, moldy knowledge.

Coris enjoyed teaching him, and in return, he chipped at his wall one brick at a time, giving Zier a glimpse of his heart. Zier had never imagined his brother could be so playful and mischievous, and such a hilarious target to tease.

Yet, there were times Coris would revert to his cold, ruthless self. Times he would seem melancholic and resigned. Times he would be angry and demanding. Times it appeared he cared more for The Axel and Hadrian’s future than Zier. Coris had many masks. It was natural to doubt his love.

Zier blamed that doubt for making him depend on The Axel. He was resentful yet secretly thankful that his body now housed Hadrian’s most prized treasure and the birthright. He now enjoyed undivided affection, attention, priority and protection that had once been Coris’s. The weaker Coris fell, the stronger he rose in comparison.

He hoped he’d be able to live out this peaceful life as a secret chamber, a ringing void glazed with a ray of sunshine on the outside, the way it had been for two hundred years. Then the dragons came. Axel’s clock resumed ticking back on Maxus’s promise, shattering the bond he’d tried to build with Coris.

And yet, now that he knew he would still have his brother no matter what he lost, why couldn’t he let go? Why was it that countless lesser men could face death but he couldn’t? Why couldn’t he live without his parents’ love even as it was built on his lie?

He headed to the Great Hall, entering through the side-door. He’d spent the best part of the day there, carrying and rearranging the Dolls. The ceaseless inflow of victims was gut-wrenching to watch; a Doll for every day he evaded surgery since Gillian invaded Hadrian. He’d thought the guilt would be enough, but he underestimated his selfishness.

A few healers walked between the rows, occasionally bending down to press their fingers against an exposed neck. Zier spotted a familiar head of curly golden hair gleaming in the moonbeam, keeping vigil on that young man they suspected was the owner of the eyeballs Jadirah had.

Zier made his way to her. Arinel turned around, her tired face lighting up with a sweet smile.

“Zee.” She whispered. Zier slumped down beside her.

“Reckoned you’d be back with Mother for dinner.” He muttered. Arinel smiled, then turned away and adjusted the young man’s blanket.

“I felt your parents might have family matters to discuss, with all that’s happening with your brother.”

Zier nodded. His parents took advantage of the private company of him, Coris and Meya to discuss the pregnancy and bless the couple. Wise of Arinel, as usual.

They sat in silence, Zier watching Arinel doodle absently on some linen paper. She seemed to be designing a knitting pattern for a cot-sized blanket.

“Meya was here earlier.” She said, “She’s keeping the child. You’re becoming an uncle.”

She shook his arm gently. Zier tucked his chin behind his folded knees.

“She just told Brother. I walked in on them talking.”

“Goodly Freda, did she?” Eyes round, Arinel set aside her papers and leaned closer, “How did he react?”

Zier recounted the entire exchange to her, including Coris’s plan to deal with Healer Hasif. Arinel paled, but instead of the disgust she would reserve for his brother for cooking up dastardly schemes, she nodded fervently,

“Coris’s afraid he’d have a bloodbath like Cristoria on his hands, but it’s different now.” She said, beaming, “He’s acting for the right reasons. In service of the people. He’ll have Freda’s blessing, I’m sure.”

In service of the people. The nobles’ code his brother and the girl he loved lived up to without trouble, but he couldn’t.

“How do you do it?” He blurted out. Arinel turned to him, a questioning look in her eyes. “Meya’s walking around in chains because she revealed herself to save Atmund. Brother’s ready to throw away his birthright and his life to protect her and her cause. And you’ll tell everyone you’re no longer a maiden, if it would silence your father.”

Zier shook his head, frowning at the floor.

“I just don’t know how you all do it. All these sacrifices. Aren’t you afraid?”

He looked to her, hoping and desperate. Arinel blinked, intrigued, as if she’d never considered it before; it had come naturally to her. Her eyes wandered. She sighed,

“We all are, Zier. Even your brother, but we find something else we’re more afraid of. Something worth dying to protect. It’s different for everyone, I expect. You just have to find your own. And then, your path forward will become clear to you.”

Her voice was soothing as the touch of the wind. Zier shook his head with a snort.

“It’s over. One way or another.” He cradled his head. Arinel spun around, alarmed, “The surgeon’s on his way. I’ll just enjoy the rest of my life the best I could.”

“Zier, Old Angus has done this countless times! And with my mother’s anesthesia and Jaise’s obsidian blades, you have little to fear!” Arinel clamped her hand over his knee, shaking it in frustration. Zier curled into a tighter ball.

“My parents will learn the truth. Either I die a traitor or I live a coward.”

Arinel’s icy grip melted into a warm, comforting weight. She paused, deep in thought, perhaps, then continued gently,

“You have no power over their forgiveness, but if these few days were to be the last of your life, wouldn’t you want to be free for once?”

Zier raised his head from his arms. Arinel answered his puzzled look with steady, mournful blue eyes.

“Your father’s right. A secret retains its power so long as it remains one. How long have you lived under this secret? How far have you let it drag you on this road you’re supposed to choose with your heart and walk with your legs?”

Zier couldn’t stand to hold her gaze. The soul within was too pure, too honest, too brave. He broke away and fled, but Arinel did not surrender. She leaned closer, shaking his knee again,

“If you love your brother, this is your last chance to do right by him.” She whispered, enunciating each word with a jolt of his knee, “Because you will live. I’ll test the anesthesia on myself. I’m smaller than you. If I survive, then you definitely will.”

That finally knocked Zier out of his self-pitying ruminations.

“What!?” He cried. Arinel shook her head, steel in her eyes as she stared into the distance.

“Coris would’ve volunteered, I’m sure, but he’s a father now.” She met his bulging eyes, pleading, “I must be the one to do this, Zier. It’s my mother’s work. I must believe in it before anyone else would.”

“No. No, Ari, no.” Zier shook his head. He backed away, scrambling to his feet. Arinel never broke her gaze.

“Yes, Zier.” She rose, putting one firm foot after another towards him, “Also, Coris mentioned he could arrange for a switch of sorts during the surgery. If you really don’t want your parents and the rest of Latakia to know the truth.”

“A switch?” Zier repeated incredulously. This was beyond his wildest imagination. More than he would ever wish for. And it was torture for him.

Amid the chaos, he felt Arinel’s cool, soft hand on his cheek, as her gentle voice consoled him.

“When The Axel’s secret comes to an end, there’s no telling what the people will make of what you did. Their anger. Their hate. Their fear.” She sighed sadly,

“Coris wants to protect you from the fallout. He loves you just as much as I do. So, you can be sure we won’t rush the surgery until we’re sure you’ll be safe. And you will be, Zier.”

Zier shook his head, leaving Arinel frowning in alarm. Before she could say another word, he snatched her hand and marched to the door.

“Zier!”

Once they were outside, he sprinted down the hallway as he dragged her along, their clattering footsteps echoing behind and in front of them.

“Zier, where are you—What’s going on?”

Zier didn’t dare spare a few seconds to answer her. He hardly even dared breathe; with every breath he felt his surge of courage leaking out of him. He might betray fear again if he tarry. He might change his mind. And he would lose her forever.

He had his answer. He understood now. He had found something he feared more than his own death. Something he loved more than his own life. And he held onto her soft little hand to bolster his resolve as he hurtled around bend after bend, Arinel’s sharp protests stabbing through the wind in his ears.

He turned the doorknob and bulled his way in. Father and Mother were on their bed, tucking in. Coris and Meya half-carried a hay mattress between them. Judging from their open mouths as they gawked at him and Arinel, panting in the doorway, they were probably squabbling about where best to deposit it.

Zier glanced at each of them. As he tightened his grip around Arinel’s hand, he prayed to Freda to grant him bravery.

“It was me.” He gasped, “I stole The Axel for Baron Graye. I swallowed it. It’s inside me. It’s been inside me all along. I’m the spare—whatever you want, test it on me. Take this thing out while you’re at it. Just leave Arinel out of this. Better I die than her.”

Silence, but for the flump of the mattress’s corners falling unnoticed to the floor. Father, Mother and Meya merely gawked, lost for words, but Zier only had eyes for his brother.

“I’m a man now. You don’t have to protect me.” He said heavily, “It’s time I help you protect Hadrian and the Greeneyes. And our family.”

For a moment which felt as if it lasted three Miracle Fests, the brothers locked eyes. Then, at long last, Coris smiled. A genuine smile of joy, pride and love such that Zier had never seen, as he took Meya’s hand and urged her to his side.

“Of course, little brother.” He said.

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