Page 79 of Decimation

I am not safe. I know that. No matter what his colours say, no matter what promises he makes, I am not safe.

But as I close my eyes and let the pain medication pull me down into a heavy, dreamless sleep I cannot stop thinking about his colours. The way they swirled, the way they burned. The way they told me, without words that he meant every single thing he said.

Queen of everything.

The words follow me into the dark.

Ipause at the gates, my hands still stained with her, the scent of her skin clinging to my clothes, the memory of her brown eyes burning behind my lids every time I blink. Except they aren’t brown anymore. They’re blue now. A pale, watery blue that makes my stomach turn because I know whose eyes they’re meant to mimic.

Ines.

The thought of her name sends a spike of rage through my chest so violent I have to grip the iron gate to steady myself. It’s not the exact same shade, thank God for small mercies, but close enough that anyone who didn’t know Ines intimately would be fooled. Close enough that Konstantine can look at her and pretend.

Leandra’s eyes are different. Even now, even altered, there’s something in them that Ines never possessed. Something soft, something wounded. Something that calls to the broken parts of me that I’ve spent years trying to bury.

And now they’re gone. Those beautiful brown eyes that looked at me like I was something other than a monster. Gone, replaced by a pale imitation of a dead woman’s gaze.

Christ, I want to kill him.

The thought settles in my chest like a stone dropping into still water. I want to wrap my hands around my brother’s throat and squeeze until the madness leaves his body along with his final breath. I want to carve out his eyes the way he carved out hers. I want to…

Breathe.

I force my fingers to uncurl, force my lungs to expand, force the mask of the loyal brother back onto my face even though it fits less comfortably now than it ever has before.

Ezra is safe, that’s what matters. Zayn has him hidden away now. My son is safe.

I push through the gates and walk the long path to the villa’s main entrance. The cypress trees lining the drive cast shadows that stretch toward me like grasping fingers and the fountain in the centre of the courtyard burbles peacefully, a sound that should be soothing but instead grates against my nerves like nails on slate.

The guards at the door recognize me and step aside without a word. They are my men. Every single one of them has been replaced. They are loyal to me. Loyal to the right brother, not the mad one.

It should have been you.

My father’s dying words echo in my skull as I step into the marble foyer. The chandelier overhead throws prisms of light across the floor, and for a moment I’m transported back to that night; the taste of my father’s blood on my tongue, the weight of his body as he slumped over, the whisper that followed me out of the ceremony and has followed me every day since.

It should have been you.

I shake the memory away and head toward the west wing, where Konstantine’s private chambers are located. The villa is quiet today. The usual bustle of servants, guards, and sycophants reduced to a hollow stillness that puts my teeth on edge. Something is wrong. Something is always wrong in this place, but today the wrongness has a different texture. A different taste.

I’m halfway down the corridor when I hear voices.

I stop, pressing myself against the wall. Listening.

“…cannot continue at this rate.” That’s Victor. I’d recognize his voice anywhere; the dry, papery quality of it like ancient parchment being unfolded. He’s one of our Guardians. “The population has grown beyond sustainable levels. We’re looking at a crisis within the next decade if nothing is done.”

“And what would you have me do?” Konstantine’s voice is lazy, almost bored, but I know my brother well enough to hear the edge beneath it. The hunger. “Cull the herd?”

“I would have you consider it.”

I hold my breath, not fully understanding what they are saying, who they are talking about. What herd?

“Go on,” Konstantine says.

“The Brethren has always understood that control requires sacrifice,” Victor continues. “The masses breed like rabbits. They consume resources. They demand rights, freedoms, and all manner of things they haven’t earned. We’ve managed them through economics, through politics, through carefully orchestrated conflicts but those methods are becoming less effective. The internet has made them... restless.”

“Restless.” Konstantine laughs, and the sound makes my skin prickle. “You make them sound like cattle sensing the slaughterhouse.”

“Aren’t they?”