Chapter 156: O-Men 2

EDELINA

He reached into his side. The movement was slow, deliberate, and I saw the shape of the gun before he’d fully drawn it. Johann tensed, ready to lunge, but I raised my hand, stopping him.

"I renounce this pack," the boy announced, his voice ringing clear and terrible in the small room. "I renounce you. I renounce Johann. I renounce Lysander. I am my own man now. I ain’t your slave."

Johann’s lip curled. "And why should we let you leave here alive? You’re starting to sound like a rogue."

The boy thumbed the safety off the gun. The click was loud in the sudden silence. "Thank the goddess bullets stop anybody and everybody. Try me, and see if you don’t end up like your father."

The words hung between us, sharp and poisonous. I felt Johann’s rage spike, hot and wild, but I stepped forward, placing myself between my son and the gun.

"That’s just cruel," I murmured.

"Life is cruel," the boy replied. "I know that better than anyone else, and why should I give a fuck about placating your massive...useless egos?"

I turned to Johann, keeping my movements slow, unthreatening. "You were also cruel. This man is having a midlife crisis."

Johann’s brow furrowed, confusion breaking through his anger. "Mother—"

I turned back to the retainer, spreading my hands in a gesture of surrender. "I appreciate your help," I told him, meaning it. "And you are free to go. When my son ascends that throne, I promise you things will be better. There will be no outcasts anymore. You can come back. You will be a hero."

The boy’s eyes narrowed, suspicion warring with the strange hope in his expression. He wanted to believe me. They always wanted to believe me. That was the curse of being convincing. It was also his sickness. The sickness of most of us. He wanted to stand for something even in his supposed apathy. He wanted to mean something.

But then his rage for this institution took over.

"I fucking doubt it," he muttered, but he lowered the gun slightly, just an inch, just enough.

"Walk away," I urged him. "Live your life. Forget you ever knew us."

He held my gaze for a long moment, searching for the lie. I made sure he found none. I’d had years to practice this mask, this face of the benevolent queen, the misunderstood mother, the victim of circumstance rather than the architect of it.

Finally, he stepped back, tucking the gun into his waistband. "You’re all going to burn," he said. "And I’ll be watching from a safe distance."

He turned and walked out, his boots echoing down the corridor until the sound faded into nothing.

Johann exploded the moment the door clicked shut. "Why would you let him go? After all that disrespect? He threatened to shoot us!"

I crossed to the window, my fingers trailing along the sill. Outside, the sky had turned the color of bruised plums, twilight settling over the estate like a shroud. "I understand his position," I replied, my voice distant, thoughtful. "And I am grateful for the card he just dealt us."

"What card? He’s a liability!"

"He’s a witness," I corrected, turning to face him. "A witness who doesn’t have to say another word. Somehow, he’s become the key. No matter what state he ends up in, his death will go to the council for us, or whoever will listen. They’ll ask why he died, what happened to him, and who had reason to silence him. And when they start asking those questions, Lysander is finished."

Johann stared at me as though I had started speaking another language.

"I’m a bit lost," he admitted finally.

I almost smiled. "I know."

"No, Mother. I mean I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about."

"You will."

He glanced toward the door the retainer had disappeared through, his jaw tightening. "He said he was going to watch us burn."

"He intends to run," I said. "That is what he thinks he is doing. He’ll disappear, become a rogue, and watch us destroy each other from a safe distance. That is why he gave me what he gave me."

Johann’s expression hardened. "And you’re just going to let him?"

"He will not get that chance."

The words came quietly, but something in my tone made him stop.

I turned away from the window.

"If Bradley and Lysander truly intend to kill them all, then every man and woman that was in that infirmary is already a dead man walking. They have made their decision. They have chosen to turn this into a purge, and once they begin, there will be no clean way out of it. Bradley will probably take a note out of your father’s book and blame it on something else. Perhaps traitors. I mean... the trouble that has been all over the estate like a bad perfume can only scream incompetence or an inside traitor. And no one wants to feel scared in their own domain. A lie of that sort will be accepted by those weak elders."

Johann said nothing.

"And if they die," I continued, "then we have what we need."

His eyes narrowed. "Their deaths and the reason for it."

I nodded.

Johann stared at me, his mouth slightly open. "You planned that far already."

"I adapted," I replied. "Lysander just needs to finish this off by killing those sentinels and retainers, and then I have all the weapons I need. The court will turn on him. The people will demand his head. And we will be there, clean and righteous, to pick up the pieces."

Johann leaned back against his pillows, his anger draining into something resembling awe. "It’s sad that Willow is dead, though," he said quietly. "I kind of liked her."

I felt a pang in my chest, unexpected and sharp. Willow, or rather the person wearing Willow, had been useful. Dangerous, but useful. He’d sacrificed the witch to save himself, or to save the game. I still wasn’t sure which , knowing Lycaon. But he still did make an effort, so I was tempted to believe the latter.

"Please don’t say stuff like that," I told Johann, my voice harder than I intended.

He looked up, surprised. "Why? Is it because of the relationship you two could have had? She did die for us."

I swallowed, the memory of Lycaon’s voice in my ear, his borrowed hands on my skin, flooding back unbidden. "Yes," I whispered. "She did."

"So are you going to tell me exactly why she did that? What did she want?"

I turned back to the window, avoiding his gaze. "She’s dead now. It doesn’t matter."

"It matters to me."

"Someday you’ll realize there are just some things that don’t stay dead or buried," I said, my eyes fixed on the horizon.

He sighed, frustrated. "What does that mean?"

I didn’t answer. Instead, I stared at the glass, at the reflection of the room behind me, and saw movement. A raven had landed on the sill outside, its feathers black as ink, its eyes bright and knowing. It stared at me, unblinking, its head tilted at an angle that seemed almost human. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

A chill traced my spine. That thing gave me the creeps.

I went to the window, my heart hammering against my ribs, and rapped on the glass. The bird didn’t flinch. I rapped harder, my knuckles stinging, and finally it took flight, wings spreading wide, casting a shadow across the room that seemed to swallow the light whole.

I watched it disappear into the darkening sky.