Page 61 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Nyzaia

N yzaia had never seen her father so happy.

She wondered when in his life he had lost the smile that was now clear in the scene before her as he ran hand in hand with Vespera, Elisara’s mother.

His eyes gave him away, matching the amber glow of Nyzaia’s as he threw a flame alongside them for lighting, enriching the royal red and orange of his attire.

Joy bloomed in those eyes whenever Razik looked at Vespera, and they laughed in a way only children did.

Nyzaia glanced at Elisara, who had the same dark locks, thick eyebrows above wide brown eyes as her mother.

Razik and Vespera were simply two carefree children, no older than eight or nine, running along the edge of the Ashun Desert.

The image floating before them swirled, twisting and changing until Nyzaia saw an older image of her father, not much younger than Nyzaia was now.

Razik stood in the palace gardens, yet the shrubbery hid whoever he spoke to.

“I cannot keep having this conversation!” Razik shouted.

His voice was far less daunting than when he shouted in Nyzaia’s presence.

“You know my parents will ensure you are wed off to someone else if they discover we were together!” Razik ran his hands through his hair and glanced up at the sky.

Vespera stepped into view, her long dark hair identical to Elisara’s.

She flipped it over her shoulder and shouted back at him.

“Why would attending the same celebrations as you mean we are together?” she shouted. “I am a lord’s daughter, albeit not your father’s favourite one, but my presence there would still be customary!” Vespera crossed her arms in front of her blush-coloured lehenga, and Razik groaned.

“I cannot be in a room where every eligible man is watching and attempting to court you. It pains me to be apart from you, but it would pain me even more to cause this ending and to push my father’s hand. Because if you are there, Vespera, I cannot keep myself from you!”

The pair paused, their chests rising and falling in tandem. In one stride, Razik reached for Vespera and crushed his lips to hers, a kiss that spoke of urgency and passion.

The scene changed. Razik stood, staring through giant glass windows at the view of the Vala mountains in the distance. A knock sounded at the door, and he turned with the king’s crown glinting on his head.

“Iahabi,” he breathed, reaching for Vespera when she entered his study.

“What is this?” she demanded, pressing her lips into a tight line as she surveyed the room decorated to match that of Vala. Razik reached for her hand, but she shrugged him off.

“This is what it will be like, marrying him.” Razik said, gesturing around the room.

“The cold, the colour, the furniture. You will lose all the possessions you love—the home you love.” He stepped towards Vespera as tears welled in her eyes.

“The man you love.” When his voice cracked, Vespera turned her eyes up to meet his, resting her hand on his cheek.

“I do not have a choice, Razik. They have signed the agreement.” He gripped her wrist and rested his forehead against hers.

“I cannot lose you,” he murmured.

Nyzaia swallowed, thrown by the emotion she had never witnessed in her father, only accustomed to the anger he showed towards her and her brothers, or the indifference towards her mother.

The image changed, and Razik stood in a pew with tear-filled eyes, applauding the marriage of Vespera and Arion, as they crowned her the new queen of Vala .

Nyzaia glanced at Elisara. Tears rolled down her cheeks at watching her parents marry.

The image changed again, yet this time, Razik knelt as he married Nyzaia’s mother, Nesrin.

He smiled, but it was not the smile he shared with Vespera.

A flurry of memories played out, short snippets of time: moments of laughter between Razik and Nesrin and the same between Vespera and Arion.

Despite losing one another, they had found happiness, a happiness she had never seen between her father and mother before. When had her father become so cold

The recollection slowed to focus on a baby in a dark blanket, crying in an open wooden box.

Kazaar. The door to the palace opened, and Nesrin stepped out to grasp the baby, shielding him against the night breeze.

Nesrin ran down the hallway towards Razik’s study but did not knock, as was custom.

She opened the door in a hurry, and Nyzaia watched the moment her mother finally realised.

Razik was not in the study that so clearly belonged in Vala.

The baby stopped crying as she wandered to the desk, moving the many letters strewn across it, all addressed to or from Vespera. Her face crumpled.

“What are you doing in here?” Razik roared, slamming the door behind him.

Nesrin backed against the wall as he approached, yet Razik composed himself, withdrawing from her as his eyes locked on the baby.

“Where did you get that ?” He clenched his fists and glared down at the bundle in her arms. Fury rose in her mother’s eyes as they narrowed on Razik.

She clutched the baby closer to her chest.

“ He was on the front steps of the palace,” Nesrin said. She glanced away for a moment and then back at him, raising her chin. “Is he yours?”

Nyzaia shook her head in disbelief as her father jerked his head back. She could not believe he had the audacity to appear offended.

“Of course it isn’t mine!” he spat, his anger returning.

“Well, given the state of these rooms, and how little we lie together, is it wrong to ask such a question?” Nesrin fired back.

Razik strode away from her towards the windows.

“You know how much I have wanted a child, but with how little we are together, it is no surprise I have not yet conceived.” Nesrin continued.

“This could be my blessing, I could keep—”

“Absolutely not.” Razik cut her off, not bothering to look at her. Nesrin’s expression changed, her fury returning as she scanned the room before looking back at the baby. With a clenched jaw, she looked up at Razik.

“It is her,” Nesrin whispered. “It has always been her.”

“Of course it is her!” Razik yelled.

“Do not shout at me!” she screamed back, rocking the baby.

“I will shout at whomever I please when they enter my rooms.”

“Your rooms?” she spat. “This is a shrine to a queen of another realm.”

“It is a grave!” he shouted, blinking back tears.

Nesrin paused as he paced before the window, his fists clenched by his sides.

“It is a permanent reminder of losing the love of my life to that realm—to him.” Razik pointed towards the mountains in the distance, and Nesrin’s lip quivered only for a moment before she bit her lip to keep the tears at bay.

She pulled her arms tighter around the baby.

While Nyzaia never had a good relationship with her mother, she admired her strength in this moment.

“So, it will always be Vespera.”

“It will always be her.” Razik said. “She is the air that feeds my flame; she is the pounding in my heart. She is my everything and nothing all at once,” Razik panted, tears streaming down his face. Nesrin gave Razik a final once over before walking towards the door.

“I am keeping the child,” she declared fiercely. Tears continued down Razik’s cheeks as he opened his mouth to protest again. “It is the least you can do.” Nesrin bit out. When she glanced around the room for a final time, Razik closed his mouth, his jaw firm. Nesrin slammed the door behind her.

Nyzaia blinked rapidly as the image changed to the father she remembered.

It was the day he left her outside a brothel to be collected by the Red Stones, the day she began training with them.

A younger version of Nyzaia glanced back at her father before they hauled her around a corner.

Razik hung his head and sighed before entering the brothel.

Nyzaia stiffened when Isha approached, swaying her hips as she guided the king to a quiet alcove. Nyzaia looked at Soren, desperate to wipe the smirk off her face. To this day, she still did not know what was truly shared between Isha and her father.

Nyzaia was surprised to see Vespera again in commoner’s clothing, sneaking through the palace grounds. She entered a side door and stood outside her father’s study. She knocked in a specific rhythm.

“Come in,” Razik called, and his smile was one of remembered heartbreak as Vespera entered.

They both stood awkwardly on opposite sides of the study.

Neither spoke as Vespera assessed the room, trailing her eyes over each item resembling Vala.

Razik rocked back and forth on his heels, framed by the light from the windows.

“You kept it like this,” she said plainly, her eyes finally meeting his.

“I did,” he whispered. Vespera walked towards one of the blue chairs and trailed her hand over the back.

“I had my study overlooking the mountains designed like this,” Vespera murmured, pulling a loose thread from the chair. Razik tilted his head. “Exactly like this.” She cleared her throat and looked away to hide the tears. Razik stepped towards her with urgency.

“Why?” He reached to touch her but withdrew when Vespera turned to face him.

“So I could pretend I was with you,” she trailed off, peering out the windows where her study sat on the other side of the mountains.

“To remind myself of our last moments together on the day you showed me this room.” Vespera glanced down at her hand on the armchair as Razik rested his hand beside it.

She took a deep breath before stepping away from him.

“I received your letter,” she finally said. “Do you believe this prophecy the courtesan told you?” Razik nodded, and the memory warped again.

Nyzaia wanted to scream at the gods to stop and slow the memories, allowing them to see and hear every detail—every piece of information.

“We cannot give you everything on a platter. ” Nyzaia’s head turned to Keres, his voice ringing in her mind. He sounded like her father.

“You are certain no one saw you?” Razik’s voice sounded again, returning her attention to the past.

“Positive,” said Adrianus, the king of Nerida. He stared in disgust at the large, dead creature at his feet. “It was dead when we found it.”

King Wren and his wife Hestia shared a look before frowning at the creature.

“Return of the darkness,” Vespera murmured opposite Razik. King Arion gripped her hand, and Nyzaia listened as Vespera and Razik explained the prophecy to the rulers for the first time.

“The last of the lines,” said Arion. “Does that mean what I believe it does? Only one remaining of each lineage should remain?”

Razik and Vespera nodded solemnly.

“Sacrifice?” asked King Wren of Garridon, rubbing his face. Nobody spoke, all looking to Razik and Vespera for answers. Vespera gently nodded.

“Us,” Razik said. “All of us.”

“How can we be certain of following through with this?” asked King Wren, clasping his hands together. He rested them in front of his mouth and leaned forward on the table, watching Razik with eyes that did not hold the anger he was famed for.

“Too much of it is linked. This creature confirms the return of what took Ithyion. We cannot choose our lives over the risk of losing the entire kingdom.”

“The last of my line isn’t even born yet,” said Wren. “Hestia is only three months gone.” He swallowed hard, and the other rulers shared a look.

“You are not the true Garridon line,” said Vespera. “We are working on the assumption any of your children could remain.”

Wren nodded and said, “Caellum. He will stand the best chance.”

Nyzaia raised her eyebrows, matching Caellum’s surprise as Sadira reached for his hand.

“The gods. You said the gods could help us,” Adrianus said, grasping his wife’s hand. “We must try that first.”

A flood of memories flashed quickly then: Razik and Vespera huddled over books, writing and researching, the seasons changing outside the king’s study windows.

At least five years passed until finally an image of Vespera on the Unsanctioned Isle appeared, attempting to withdraw a sword before her frustrated cry changed to loud chatter in the temple.

Their parents sat around the stone table, no crack on show, crowded by the rest of their families.

“The corridors need checking to be certain if the reports are correct,” said Razik to the Historian, who shuffled towards the door and closed it behind him to check the corridor. Nyzaia knew what happened next. They had failed to contact the gods.

“Ready?” asked Vespera. Arion patted her hand as Razik sprinkled black dust around the room and on the table.

“Papa, what is happening?” whispered a quiet voice from the side of the room. One of Caellum’s sisters sat on the eldest’s lap, and Nyzaia wished she could look away at what she knew was coming. Wren scrunched his face and avoided looking at his daughter.

“Nothing, Eve. Sit still with Edlen and Aurelia.”

“Father, what is happening?” Dalton asked. Vespera narrowed her eyes at King Wren.

“You did not prepare any of them?” she sneered .

Nyzaia’s brothers braced their arms around one another, with Elisara’s sisters following suit and bowing their heads. Larelle’s brother and his wife bounced their son on their knees as they huddled close and cried together. They knew. They all knew, except—

“How was I supposed to tell them?” Wren snapped. Caellum’s brothers shared panicked looks, and Aurelia shifted in her chair, pulling Eve closer.

“The same way we all did!” Razik yelled. Eve began to cry and covered her ears while Aurelia hummed into her neck.

“They are my children!” Wren shouted. “I cannot do this; we cannot do this.” He tried to rise, yet Razik held his shoulders down.

“Perhaps you should have treated them as such while you were all still alive!”

“We cannot—I cannot!” Wren struggled against Razik. Edlen cried now, too, and then Nile, their sobs muffled in the clothing of the person holding them.

Razik struck a match, his power inhibited in the city.

He reached to the table where dust lay before them all and dropped the match.

It burned brighter as Wren shouted expletives, and when Razik pulled away, the last of the dust ignited.

He took the seat to his right, the chair where Nyzaia now sat.

“Papa!” Eve cried, and it was the last word Nyzaia heard before the image in front of them exploded.