The Hollow Heart by Marie Rutkoski

NIRRIM

SECURE THE CHILDREN, OTHER NIRRIMsays, and for once I listen. I order that all of the city’s children, whether they possess magic or not, be protected within the stone walls of the orphanage. Later, when I withdraw into my palace, and wait for the Herrani army to come and kill me, I tell myself that my decision regarding the children was strategic, the goal of a ruler who has made mistakes but will not let the next generation of her people die.

But the true reason is simple. Frightened and alone, I must turn for advice to the only person left: my old, banished self.

I bar myself within in my bedchamber. I look at Sid lying on the bed: her long body, the arms that once held me, the legs that tangled between mine, her soft face and golden hair. It is cut so close to the head that when I touch it, my fingers skim through it in an instant, and I am left touching nothing. Whole and unharmed, the message said.

I could surrender Sid’s body to the Herrani and my city might be spared. Sid’s cheek is faintly red, as though it was slapped, a mysterious burn blisters her shoulder, and she is unconscious, yet giving her to Arin might be enough to satisfy him.

But I cannot give her up.

She will be mine, or no one’s.

The battle is not over. I hear it rage outside my palace. We might yet win. And if I give Sid to her father, who never deserved her, no matter what Sid claimed, how will any threat I make be believed by a future enemy? A ruler should keep her word, or promises and threats mean nothing, and can go ignored.

If you wish to rule alone, you must destroy her, the tree’s fortune said.

Did the tree predict this? Is this moment a test of my right to rule?

If I kill the person who means the most to me, will I win this war, and establish myself as the true queen not only of Ethin, but of the rest of this world?

I slide Sid’s dagger from its sheath.