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Chapter 7

IRIS

The Kacidon royal library was a magnificent sight to behold.

The entire palace followed a cohesive theme—white marble floors and soaring pillars reaching toward lofty ceilings, with intricate silver designs gilded along the walls, similar to my chambers and the hall where we’d met with the king and queen. Towering ice sculptures adorned every corner, their crystalline forms glistening in the ambient light.

The library upheld the same meticulous attention to detail, each bookcase arranged with an almost obsessive precision. Yet, the worn, earthen hues of the tomes warmed the shelves, a stark contrast to the castle’s cold, traditional palette.

I shifted in my chair, wincing as the wooden seat dug into my thigh. A few shelves over, plush velvet sofas beckoned, but I couldn’t bring myself to sink into comfort. Not here.

Never had I felt so uneasy in the presence of books.

The rigidity of my seat was a necessary discomfort—a reminder to stay vigilant. My gaze flicked back to the pages of An Exhaustive History of the Ethera: From Goddess Creation to the Great War , finding my place once more.

Lux, Goddess of Discovery, is believed to have triggered the cosmic explosion of light that brought about The Cataclysm, destroying hundreds of the Celestos’ old worlds in its wake. As punishment for her transgressions, the Divine briefly exiled her. Ever loyal, her sisters followed her into exile, descending to a lesser plane of existence—The Idle lands. The Triad, as they are referred to in most modern literature, are considered the sole creators of the world of Felviran.

Wracked with grief over her mortal lover’s death, Lux sought to forge a world free from similar suffering.

Thus, the Ethera were born.

Endowed with lifespans lasting centuries, Lux’s creations were her attempt to evade the anguish that stemmed from the frailty of mortality. The Ethera resembled the humans of the Divine’s prior worlds in the Celestos but were augmented—sharp, pointed ears for detecting predators, eyes keen enough to spot distant threats, expedited healing, and unmatched speed and agility. Within each of them pulsed a pooled essence of magic, used to wield a gift from the Triad themselves.

These slivers of the Triad’s own Divine power rendered the Ethera less susceptible to famine, plague, and exposure, making them more resilient than any species known to be created by the Divine. Yet, to Lux’s dismay, they were never as infallible as she had envisioned. In time, many succumbed to the same vices as mortals—falling to bloodshed, greed, and corruption just as the mortals before them. Worse still, they turned the very gifts of the Goddesses against one another.

Some scholars argue that, despite their blessings, the Ethera may ultimately be considered a failure by Lux’s original design.

I sighed, rubbing my temple. None of this provided any insight beyond a schoolroom lesson. And while my formal education had ceased at nine, when Zinnia took me in, my hunger for knowledge had never waned. I devoured books indiscriminately—histories, botanical texts, or a flourishing fictional story.

Books were both a solace and escape for a young girl who had experienced little of either.

Our shared love of stories was one of the first things Nadya and I bonded over. As we grew, our interactions became an endless exchange of new reads and imagined worlds.

But if I wanted to uncover something new, I had to be thorough. I grabbed another volume. The rasp of parchment was sharp in the stillness as I flipped the worn pages, finding a more in-depth description of Felviran’s creation.

Long ago, when the world was nothing more than a whispered lullaby, three sisters stepped through the wreckage of the Celestos, determined to begin anew.

The first was Lux, Goddess of Discovery and all that is Light.

With her power, she shone bright enough to illuminate the land, ensuring her people had a future. She became a beacon, rising into the sky to fortify the world below. Her light birthed the day, ushering in knowledge and all that was to come. Those blessed by her had the ability to create. They threaded and unthreaded magic, bending it to their will to both create and unravel spells and barriers, to augment and heal- mending skin and sinew without a trace left behind. To glimpse what lay ahead in the strings of time. To unlock hidden paths and languages.

The second sister, Mene, Goddess of Things Unseen, followed.

She brought transformation to allow the minds of their people time to rest, enveloping the land in her darkness so that her sister would have respite. She brought about the night and all that goes unnoticed within. Those blessed by her were skilled in manipulation of what is seen, of entering the subconscious, of hiding between shadows. They challenged the known.

The youngest sister, Haven, Goddess of the Wild, was the last.

She flooded the land with life and harvest, bringing about the beauty of the lush landscapes and filled them with creatures of her making. Those blessed by her were given access to the elements of her creation, able to manipulate and bend the earth, air, water, ice and flame. To control, communicate and, on rare occasions, even become one with nature itself.

Each realm was gifted a sacred flower, the Sylvan Bloom, imbued with magic beyond even the Ethera’s reach. Protected by a horde of now mostly extinct mythical creatures known as the Sylvanites, these blooms formed the ley lines to shape the climates of the realms. The permafrost of Kacidon and unending warmth of Vaelithe examples of adaptations to the highest optimal living conditions for the flowers and their bestial tenders. Scholars theorize the Sylvan Blooms are why an Ethera’s magic is strongest in the land sculpted by their patron Goddess. And as the essential source of magic for each realm, the properties were only made known to their rulers.

I grabbed my quill, dipping it into ink before jotting a quick note: Investigate Sylvan Blooms.

It was doubtful I’d find records revealing their secrets—least of all Kacidon’s. Based on this account, the king and queen already knew their bloom’s properties and would have exploited them if they thought it could counter this plague. But perhaps if I found knowledge on other powerful flora, I could uncover something useful.

I also made a note to ask Gideon about the Goddess-blessings of those afflicted in the infirmary. If any were residing in a realm misaligned with their magic, relocating them might aid their recovery. Usually the difference was negligible, but nothing about what was happening was ordinary.

No answers yet, but perhaps a way forward. The warmth of the afternoon sun beat through the window, the room growing stifling as it combined with the nearby hearth.

The wardrobe of Kacidonian attire had arrived outside my chambers the first morning after Zinnia left, but after a week of isolation in this damn library, I hadn’t had the energy to sift through it all. Too many nights of fitful sleep.

Though, if anything, I’d gladly accept the extended wardrobe I’d secured out of this entire venture. I would always take advantage of the opportunity to wear pretty things.

The tunic I’d chosen today concealed the golden tattoo between my shoulder blades, but I’d paired it with a silver corset and velvet cloak for good measure. Traditional attire of the realm offered plenty of coverage due to the cold, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could continue to suffer through wearing a cloak indoors.

I exhaled sharply, tugging at the clasp. The difficulty of staying still for too long pressed in on me—the familiar impending need to flee rapidly approaching.

Golden Threads of magic pricked under my skin, the combination of heat from all directions nearly unbearable.

Too long. I had gone far too long without draining.

I shut the book, wrapping it in a linen cloth before slipping it into my satchel. Even though my role here relied heavily on research, it was likely removing anything from the royal library would be considered thievery. Concealing its identity might at least hinder detection.

In . One. Out . One. In . Two. Out . Two.

“Madam, I can take your cloak if you’re warm.”

I startled at the voice—low, rough, and entirely too close. I’d nearly forgotten about the guard stationed by the door.

For the past week, he had been a constant presence outside my chambers each morning. His wavy dark hair gathered in a knot atop his head, his silver-plated armor gleaming under the sunflare torch. Twin curved swords rested across his back, and, at this point, they were the most familiar thing in this entire palace.

That, and the books.

There was kindness in his angular eyes, immediately setting me at ease in a place where I had not yet experienced much of it. He hadn’t questioned me the first day when I pointed toward the library—only nodded and led the way.

“I think I need some fresh air...” I stood quickly as the panic rose, blood pounding in my ears.

The guard made no move to stop me as I pushed through the doors. I heard nothing except the growing roar in my skull mixing with his footfall behind me.

Willing myself not to sprint towards the nearest exit, I took increasingly shallow breaths, counting each one. Sweat collected at the base of my neck, the tattoo inked there all but burning as I turned corner after corner. Every hallway stretched the same, windowless and unending.

The footsteps grew louder as my vision began to blur, until all I could see was my own distorted reflection in the back of his armor. I didn’t stop to contemplate how he had passed me so quickly, only followed his next sharp turn.

Anchoring myself to the silver metal in front of me, we made three more turns before an open archway loomed before us, snow glistening just beyond the threshold.

Relief spread like cool water across my heated skin at the endless sheet of white. Increasing my pace to just short of a run, I practically slammed myself against the first solid surface I could find once outside. The outer wall of the palace was painfully cold against my palms, chilling at least the outside of my body.

I yanked at the clasp securing my cloak, pushing my hair aside and pressing the back of my neck against the cool stone, making sure to keep it away from the guard’s line of sight.

As the outside air tempered my feverish skin, the world sharpened back into focus. I unhooked the ties wrapped around the front of my corset, pulling it tighter. The pressure around my ribcage instantly relieved more of the panic.

The guard stood several steps away, still positioned in the archway that had led us outside. When our gazes met, he unhooked a wooden mug from his belt and held his palm over it. A stream of what I presumed to be water gushed from his fingertips, filling the mug to the brim before he handed it to me.

“This is…” Finger water. I didn’t finish the thought aloud. He’d handed me finger water . And I was strongly considering chugging it.

The guard chuckled. “Elementalist magic doesn’t actually come from the hands,” he offered, catching my concern. “No Temperi magic does. I assume yours falls into a different classification or two?”

I nodded and immediately brought the mug to my lips. My hands trembled, spilling some of the water as I took several long gulps.

“I could have been lying, you know.” Amusement glinted in his dark eyes.

I exhaled. “I decided I didn’t care.”

“Fortunately for you, I wasn’t.” He winked. “Only atmospheric moisture. The rest,” he gave an exaggerated flourish, “is for grandeur.”

“Thank you, uh…” I faltered, coming up blank. “I apologize. I haven’t yet asked your name.”

“No need for apologies, Lady Iris,” he replied, clasping his hands behind his back. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he shifted to his full height. “Theon Winthrall, second in command of the royal guard.”

I raised a brow. “I had no idea I was considered so much of a threat that I warranted the attention of the royal guard.”

A flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—crossed his face. The wind whipped a few loose strands of hair across his cold-reddened cheeks. “You are considered a flight risk.”

“Fleeing would mean death for the only family I know.” I blew out a breath and pushed off the wall, careful to keep my hair draped over my shoulders as I bent to retrieve my cloak. He was quicker, snatching it up and handing it to me.

“We also don’t know the extent of your power, which is dangerous in itself,” he admitted.

“I can speak to animals.” I kept my tone light, revealing just enough to foster trust. No need to elaborate on the rest of my magic.

His expression remained unreadable. “I don’t know many who fall into the Scriptor classification,” he noted as I refastened my cloak, blocking out the bitter chill. “That must be interesting.”

“It comes in handy if you like to talk,” I said with a laugh. “Not much use as a weapon, though. You can rest easy knowing I won’t be turning any woodland creatures against you, at least for now. They hardly listen to me as it is.”

“Precocious?”

“Very.” I tugged my hair free from the cloak and checked my skirt pocket for the book I had slipped inside. “You can inform whomever you report to that I am neither a danger nor planning to leave before my debt is fulfilled.”

“Even so, we have no reason to take you at your word.”

I sighed. Of course they couldn’t. The tension between Zinnia and Genevieve alone ensured how most in the palace already saw me.

“There’s a spot,” I pointed toward the tree line I’d discovered the first morning, “just there. Would it be possible for me to sit alone for a while?”

He followed my hand, considering the distance, then glanced at me before looking back. “I will stay as far as I can while keeping you in sight. It shouldn’t be too difficult, given your hair.”

A laugh burst from me—the first since Zinnia had left.

“I meant no offense, Lady Iris.” His smile softened. “Your hair is nice, if not rather bright. It simplifies my job.”

“Fair, Theon. But are you sure you don’t have more pressing matters requiring your attention?”

“My permanent station is with the heir apparent.”

“And you’re with me instead because…?”

“To be frank, Lady Iris, the prince prefers solitude, and when he is on the grounds, he does not require protection. My station is currently with you.”

That aligned with what Nadya and Ferrin had told me about the Kacidon Prince, though it was odd his personal guard was assigned to me. I didn’t know much about Ferrin’s detail in Reilune, but I had never seen him without Nadya. Though, I suspected it had more to do with the two of them than his safety. Even before she was appointed his personal guard, they had nearly always been together.

The only other knowledge I had regarding royal bodyguards were the few memories of the Sunchosen’s prison disguised with pretty bars. And I could hardly count those as memories at all.

“Thank you, Theon.” I handed back the mug. “I appreciate your kindness.”

“I suggest keeping that book in pristine condition. The library has a few very particular patrons who won’t take kindly to books being removed.”

My eyes flicked to my stuffed pocket, the book hastily wrapped in dark cloth. “Noted,” I murmured before heading toward the forest. Just before I was too far for him to hear, I called over my shoulder?—

“And it’s just Iris.”

* * *

I spread my skirts over the snow and laid the book atop them, shielding it from the moisture. The open air eased the tension in my limbs, and I leaned back against a tree, picking up where I had left off in the library.

Although the sisters are believed to have returned to the Divine, they continue to monitor their creations, allowing their people free will.

For millennia, outside of a cluster of islands deemed The Shards that broke from Marikaim during the Tenebris War, the continent of Altaerra was believed to be the sole land occupying Felviran. The discovery of another continent, Deimos, brought upon suspicion that the Triad are not the only of the Divine to have created life and land in Felviran.

I skimmed the page until I reached a passage all too familiar—one I had studied obsessively.

The Trials of the Sun are thought to be the oldest magic of Altaerra. Fueled by her desire to prevent the same devastation she’d seen in the other worlds of the Celestos for her precious Ethera, Lux created a high council to rule Altaerra. Although each of the realms retain their own royalty, the Altaerran Council would become the governing body that oversaw the world’s affairs, representing the highest honors for the essential functions of society ?—

“You seem far less alert than yesterday. I’ve made all sorts of noise just now, and no stylographs have made their way anywhere near my head.”

I snapped the book shut, willing my hands to steady. Fear flooded, quick and untethered, that even a task as mundane as reading about the Sunchosen would somehow cause him to make the connection.