Page 15

Chapter 12

IRIS

The intricate golden sun stared back at me, taunting. I know who you are, it seemed to whisper. But do you?

The sensation twisted in my chest, claws unfurling and seizing the pieces of myself I had hidden under covers and stuffed between shelves. It yanked, pulling them just beyond reach—floating beneath the rising tide, waiting for me to grab hold.

Set against dark brown leather, the delicate swirls between each gilded ray mirrored the ones etched into my upper back. The base of my neck tingled, as if the brand sensed it was near something of its kin—something belonging to its maker.

I glanced back to the deep green clothbound tome already in my hands, debating which to start with. Sighing, I grabbed both books and exited the Ancient Records chamber, climbing the spiraling staircase to the armchair overlooking the grounds, with a direct view of my favorite spot at the forest’s edge.

I was grateful Sarek hadn’t taken it upon himself to seek me out after his meeting with the queen earlier. That spot—and the company that came with it—was something I wasn’t willing to share.

Both books I held could contain the answers I sought, though for vastly different questions. I thumbed through the sun-embossed tome, its format reminiscent of a journal. The handwritten runic symbols were immediately recognizable as a derivative of the old language, the same as the book in my lap. Without the ability to translate, I wasn’t sure what I hoped to find.

Then, one of the few Divinian words I did know leapt off the page, scrawled at the bottom like a signature.

Lux .

I blinked, twice, clearing my vision to make sure I’d read it correctly.

All the statues depicting the Triad bore their names in both Etheran and Divinian. Their names were all over Altaerra. And every handwritten passage on these yellowed pages ended the same way.

With the name of the Goddess of Discovery.

It couldn’t be.

I flipped through each page again, one at a time. Cover to cover.

Twice.

My fingers traced her name, hundreds of times. Each iteration was slightly different. I could picture her rushing to finish some, while taking time on each precise loop for others.

I was holding a Goddess of the Divine’s personal journal. And not just any Goddess.

It was hers . The one who had branded me as one of her Sunchosen.

My hands trembled beneath the tattered binding containing the inner workings of the Goddess of Discovery.

I glanced around, ensuring no eyes were on me, before slipping the journal onto a bottom shelf near the base of the chair, wedging it behind other texts.

I couldn’t risk not having access to it again, but there was no time to get caught up in the possibilities of what it could hold. Not yet at least. The task at hand was far more pressing than my morbid obsessions.

Taking care not to damage the spine of the second book, I repeated the process from the journal. The green cloth book was in better condition, written in the same runic language of the Divine. Nothing of familiarity caught my attention, until I turned to find a portrait inked across an entire page.

It depicted an Ethera sprawled across the floor, writhing in agony.

My stomach turned at the pain radiating from the image, but it was the man’s arm that had me bringing the book closer.

It was marked with unnaturally dark veining, twisting around the fingertips and creeping toward the shoulder.

The exact veining we had found on every patient that had died thus far.

I nearly dropped the book.

The veining we’d seen was minimal at first, mistakable for oddly placed bruises along the fingertips in its emergence. But when the time came, in each of the patient’s Vaelithe had buried, dark purple veins had snaked their way up the arm, converging eventually at the sternum. The progression had been the primary way we tracked the severity of each case.

It was the end stage of the Malum. The fatality.

My heart pounded. The pervasive dread receded—just a fraction.

Quickly, I flipped through the rest of the text, quelling the desperate swell of hope. No other discernible words stood out within my limited knowledge of the old language, and no other sketches seemed relevant. But this couldn’t be coincidence.

Not a single healer I knew had ever seen a disease present like the Malum before.

This was our lead. This was why I was here.

I knew it.

Relief, or perhaps sheer desperation, surged through me. I wasn’t willing to waste another moment.

I left a brief note for Sarek, detailing my plan. If my luck held, he would still be in the western wing of the castle and I could fill him in then.

“Theon,” I called breathlessly to the guard, meeting him by the arched double doors. “I need to request an appearance with the queen. Urgently.”

He didn’t hesitate to push the massive double doors aside. I filled Theon in about the image as we moved side by side towards the queen’s meeting chambers.

Arcton Palace’s endless halls had become more familiar—I no longer risked wandering in circles without Theon’s guidance. We moved in unspoken routine, our silence a mutual understanding. His cordiality surely stemmed from duty, but he was the closest thing I had to an ally within these walls. He was also one of the few who treated me as a person rather than a vessel of poison.

Though, no company could ever replace the constant ache of over a month without Nadya. And my mother, of course.

As if summoned by sheer will, I turned the corner—and there she was.

Sleek jet-black hair pulled into a set of combined braids and shining black armor of the Reilune royal guard. Deep in conversation with the Prince of Reilune and the Queen of Kacidon.

I had the urge to sprint across the room, to throw my arms around her, to let myself sink into the sheer happiness of her presence.

But practicality won out.

Neither of us needed to invite questions about our ability to perform our duties. Nor did we want to give the Queen of Kacidon any insight to who we held dear. I'd recently seen what she did with such information.

My gaze met the queen’s over Nadya’s shoulder. A pale eyebrow arched.

“Iris.”

Her voice caused Nadya and Ferrin to turn, their twin expressions flashing with pleasant surprise.

“Am I to believe your appearance outside my chambers brings news of progress?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied, bowing my head. “I request an audience.”

“Very well.” She folded her hands over the white bodice of her gown, nodding at Ferrin and Nadya. “I appreciate your insight, Prince Ferrin. I remain hopeful that circumstances will change.”

My friends acknowledged her before positioning themselves in the corner of the room.

The queen turned back to me. “Now is as good a time as any. My son is due here shortly, along with your Medikai from Vaelithe.”

Nadya and I exchanged a glance, already amused by the possibilities of how that interaction had gone.

The queen’s back was, thankfully, to Nadya as she raised a finger and mimed gagging. I stifled a laugh as footsteps rounded the corner.

Sarek entered, expression rigid. And behind him?—

My smile faltered, stomach plummeting through the cold, unforgiving floor.

Familiar snow-white hair. Blue-grey eyes.

My boy from the woods.

Sarek’s gaze snapped to mine, eyebrows shooting up in question as he stopped before me, fingers brushing my forearm. Something to share with the class?

I met his eyes, warning clear. Not the time, Sarek.

I stepped back, breaking his grip on my wrist to sever our mental connection. Often, I was glad his Cerescript magic required skin to skin contact. Giving anyone that kind of access to my mind was risky, but he generally didn’t push if I chose to pull away.

I straightened, attempting to retain some measure of composure, stealing another glance at the man before me.

Same face. Same features.

But somehow… completely different.

Gone was the warmth of a shared dessert beneath the trees, or the lending of a worn mortal novel. Gone was the glint of a frozen lake in his gaze.

Now, those eyes were dull.

Cold.

Empty.

He carried himself with an air of haughtiness, expression blank and nose tilted, as if the very room displeased him.

The sense of familiarity was nonexistent. Replaced with a low, twisted ache.

No.

Not my boy from the woods at all.

Queen Genevieve strode toward him, arm outstretched.

“Iris, it seems you are the only one here who has yet to be introduced to my son. I will be in my meeting chambers when you are ready.”

The room was utterly still as the door clicked shut behind her.

The Frost Prince finally turned, gaze sweeping over Nadya and Ferrin with barely veiled disdain before landing on me.

Not a flicker of warmth. Not a shred of recognition.

We stood, silently assessing each other, realizing that neither of us had been completely honest for nearly two months.

Two months of sitting side by side, reading novels and sharing desserts. I hadn’t been senseless enough to claim camaraderie, but I had, at the very least, felt marginally less alone.

Why did I care now that he looked at me with such...disgust?

Foolish, foolish girl.

I hated that it stung. Hated even more that I cared.

He was part of the family that had held my mother’s magic captive for years .

The son of the king who’d unwaveringly supported the Stratum. Heir to the throne that had closed its borders to neighboring realms who begged for aid. Successor to those who had stripped me of the life I knew and forced me into their custody, to do their bidding.

It was the first rule.

Don’t trust Kacidon.

I didn’t even know him, but I’d relished in the solace I’d found in his company. Let myself chip away at bits and pieces of armor and distrust to just, be for once. Without the constant voice in my head telling me I wasn’t allowed that sort of peace.

I ground my teeth, ignoring the way the drop in temperature chilled my spine.

He was silent, but nothing short of hatred radiated from him. Harsher than any other Kacidonian so far.

The man before me was exactly the prince from Nadya’s stories.

Had this been some sort of game to ascertain my motives?

Even if not, I had a sinking feeling the person he had been mere hours ago was the farce, a game he had played out of boredom or depravity. The pompous prince, sitting above the kingdom, toying with his pawns.

The sense of false security shattered around me. The spark of joy that had grown a bit more every time I trekked through the snow towards the forest extinguished.

I wasn’t sure where the delusional idea had begun that I was any more than their captive. That I had any choice in my fate here.

There was no choice.

It was stay here and help them or damn my family. Looking at him now, brought it all back to stark reality.

Sarek cleared his throat. It dawned on me how strange the entire encounter must’ve seemed to the rest of the room.

“Aspen, is it?” I asked, voice sharp.

His gaze darkened at my tone, lips curling slightly.

“Indeed,” he uttered, and strode into the adjacent hall.