Silence coated the air between Kyril and Mara as Iliana tracked them across the palace.

Her thoughts twisted and spun, intertwining with complex emotions she couldn't begin to decipher. It left her an impossible combination of numb and overwhelmed.

What was Iliana hoping to see while following them? Mara doing well without her? Suffering? Kyril changed?

The same?

What would ease the dark twisting mass in her gut?

What would make breathing easier?

The sharp anger in Kyril's shoulders seemed to ease away the further they drew from the ballroom. It shifted to a pleased, somewhat smug energy, and by the time the couple paused in front of a doorway, there was the faintest smile on his lips.

Iliana shivered. That expression had never resulted in anything pleasant.

Kyril pulled the door open, but didn't step inside. Mara slipped past him without a word. Iliana followed her, discovering what appeared to be a sitting room. She could spy doors on either side of it, suggesting it connected their separate quarters. The rooms were expensive--which only deepened her discomfort.

What exactly was Kyril doing in Eol? Were these normal quarters to give to a foreign duke?

"I'll be back shortly. Have tea readied by then," he ordered.

"As you wish."

Mara's eyes never shifted from the floor. Kyril seemed to study her for a moment, before his lip curled in distaste.

"And change into something more appropriate."

Her expression tightened, but Mara didn't argue. Instead, she gave a shallow nod, which seemed to satisfy Kyril. He strode away without another word.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Mara's energy disappeared. She stumbled across the room, before catching her hand against the back of a chair. Iliana swore and stepped forward, before remembering there was nothing she could do. She could only watch as Mara crouched and tucked her free arm over her head.

The slow, ragged breaths she drew in stole any lingering anger from Iliana's mind. It left only fear and frustration behind.

What was going on? Was Mara sick?

Why hadn't a healer been called? Kyril had always been obsessed with public opinion. Leaving his wife's illness untreated would only create foul rumors.

A knock on the door forced Mara to her feet. She brushed off her skirts, drew in another breath, before pushing a smile onto her lips. "Come in."

To Iliana's further shock, the person who slipped through the door was unsettlingly familiar.

What was Dalphie doing with Mara? How was she with Mara?

Iliana felt ill. Was it coincidence that someone she had met while the gods played with her fate had found her sister months later? It seemed unlikely.

Mara's faux energy fell away with Dalphie's arrival. She returned to leaning on the chair as the siren crossed the room, a tea tray in her hands. As Mara struggled to breathe, Dalphie laid the tray onto the coffee table.

"I must leave before he returns," the siren said. She reached into a pocket hidden in her skirts, before producing a leather pouch. "The tea."

Mara stared at the pouch for so long that Iliana was certain she wouldn't take it. But, eventually, she released the chair and with a slow, steadying breath, she accepted the pouch.

Iliana drew closer as Mara tugged open the strings, peering inside. Whatever she saw seemed to settle heavily on her shoulders as they fell, before she tugged the pouch closed once again.

"Thank you."

Why did those words sound so defeated, yet grateful?

An uneasy theory began to unfurl in Iliana's mind, but she instantly refuted it. It was Mara, afterall. Careful, perfect Mara.

There had to be a different explanation than the obvious.

Dalphie nodded and started back towards the door. She paused just before drawing it open. "I could still do it, if you wanted. My hands would work as well as yours. Better, even."

Looking at the siren felt odd.

There was no trace of the lighthearted, friendly smile Iliana had begun to associate with Dalphie during her time in Inna's Cove. Instead, there was a subtle strength and silent threat to the way she held herself. It reminded her of when she'd watched the sirens train and had realized that there was much more to Dalphie than her initial impression implied.

Mara straightened. The weakness in her frame seemed to fall away as she shook her head, determination burning in her eyes.

"No. It has to be me. I am owed this much."

The pleased smile that curled Dalphie's lips told Iliana that refusal was exactly the answer she had hoped for. "Then, good luck. I will wait at the house. If you do not show within the day, I will assume all went well and I am free to leave the city."

Mara's fingers tightened around the pouch. "You will not see me."

Dalphie's smile turned bittersweet.

"Do not make promises you are not certain of. The king may be a greedy man, but he is not stupid. Nor is most of the court. There is every chance that, despite all your plans, you won't escape this evening unscathed, Mara."

Without leaving a second to respond, Dalphie slipped out of the room.

For a long minute, Mara studied the pouch in her fingers. Eventually, however, she settled it on the tea tray, before picking both up and carrying it into the connecting bedroom. Iliana trailed behind her as her heart raced. The pieces falling into place before her only deepened her suspicions, but it made no sense.

Her sister wasn't that brave. Or Merciless.

She had always been a survivor, nothing more.

Mara sat the tray atop her vanity. Then, with trembling hands, she slipped a metal disc from the lower drawer. The pouch was dumped atop it, revealing a handful of blue, pearl-like berries. As Iliana stared at them, attempting--and failing--to decipher what they were, Mara tugged off her glove and crushed them with the tip of her finger.

After the last one was crushed, she picked up a cloth and began wiping at her blue stained fingers. For several minutes after finishing, she stared at the cloth as if it held the weight of the world. And, perhaps it did.

Her world would change if Iliana was right.

The cloth slipped from Mara's fingers.

She gasped and scooped it up. The cloth was then tucked into a hidden pocket of her dress. Her fingers pressed against something beneath her collar. A charm, perhaps? Mara had always been more pious than Iliana.

Her sister closed her eyes, and despite the fact her lips didn't move, Iliana could hear the words she prayed.

'Taisol please grant me strength to do what must be done, and Inna, bravery to see it through. Kikin, cover their eyes, and Koun guide me through this to my fate beyond these moments.'

A door opened in the other room. Startled into action, Mara dropped her hand. She reached for the disc.

"--just lovely, I assure you," Kyril boasted. "Worth everything you've promised and more."

"You're very confident," a stranger replied. Amusement laced their tone.

Mara froze. The metal disc trembled in her grip.

"Don't do it," Iliana urged her. "There's a witness, now. Dalphie was right. Be cautious."

"I simply know the value of my cards, Your Majesty," Kyril said.

Your Majesty?

Some of the tension fell from Iliana's shoulders even as confusion overtook her mind. Surely Mara wouldn't continue with the king present. Despite the oddness of his presence, she couldn't help but think of it as a blessing.

Whatever her feelings about Kyril, Iliana had no desire to see her sister be executed for his death.

"We'll see."

Something about the exchange seemed to reach Mara. She studied the pot for a moment, fingers tightening around the disc, before dumping the crushed berries into the tea.

Fear and disbelief overtook Iliana's mind. This was impossible, right?

"Where is Her Grace?"

This wasn't Mara.

"Good question. Mara!"

Reality snapped just as Mara grabbed the tray and strode back into the sitting room.

Iliana had never cursed the dark as much as she did in that moment. Nor had she ever felt so frightened for her sister.

Matricide would be viewed as unforgivable by most courts via the method Mara had chosen--if that was indeed poison in the tea--but that was nothing when compared to Mara's impulsive choice.

Regicide.

Koun's earlier words came to mind.

History was unfolding. At some point within the night, a delicate, god-made house of cards would fall apart.

After everything she had witnessed, Iliana couldn't help but wonder if, somehow, someway, her sister was the one knocking it down.

A/N: Short, I know, but a POV change is required~~ Hope you're ready for chaos. Next chapter will probably come out on Christmas Eve. See you then, and Happy Holidays!