It would be such a shame when she actually had to kill one of them to prove a point to Androma. For if she didn’t come, the blade wouldn’t be dull.

It would be sharp enough to sever one of their heads.

“You’ve earned your rest for the day,” Darai said to the crew, standing from his place in the corner of the room. He took the false blade from Nor, placing it into his robes before looking back to the girls. “Head to the barracks. Tell no one of our plan. We’ll summon you if we have need of you again.”

The girls bowed to Nor before they left, all three of them looking as if they could take flight from the joy of serving their queen.

Nor hated their happiness.

The room was silent for only a moment after they left. Then Darai turned, hands clasped together as he looked at Nor. “Have you given any thought to my proposition, Majesty?”

Nor took a seat, her body weary. But she found that every inch of her itched with the need to move. To do something, for the longer she sat, the more the pain of losing Zahn haunted her.

“I don’t know, Darai,” she said. “I haven’t considered all of my options.”

That’s a lie, her mind whispered. For she’d thought of nothing but the plan since Darai had planted the seed in her brain, needing it to ease her mourning.

What would the Godstars wish? What would her mother have done?

“You must choose soon,” Darai reminded her. “The clock is going to continue running down, and when it does, your brother will fall. You alone have the power to choose whether he falls in vain, or falls as a sacrifice to the salvation of Exonia.”

The door burst open, and Nor glanced up. A sickening sense of guilt rushed through her as Valen entered.

She didn’t know what she’d expected to feel at the sight of her brother. Fury, perhaps, over what he’d done. Hatred, even, some sort of wound that couldn’t ever be healed.

But instead, she was struck with grief as he entered the room.

Each of his steps, burdened.

Each breath, labored, as if he’d just completed a race. But Nor knew he hadn’t. He’d declined even further since she’d last seen him yesterday. His fine clothes hung from his frame as if they were rags, and bruise-like shadows darkened the skin beneath his eyes. Darai met her gaze from across the room, nodding almost imperceptibly as he watched her take in the sight of her brother.

Valen was dying.

But how much time did he have left?