Page 63 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Soren

S oren was not a patient person, but as she listened to the jumbled snippets of information falling from the gods’ lips, the limits of her patience were pushed to a new extreme.

The only saving grace throughout the torture was her god’s confirmation that she was the rightful heir to the throne.

Garridon had immediately sought Soren and Sadira when he arrived, ignoring Caellum altogether.

Soren saw it even in his physical appearance: the same blonde hair and green eyes, the air of determination; she had noticed every pointed stare and sideways glance when he thought she was not looking.

She wondered what the Lord of Night would say if he knew she had met the gods, or his thoughts as to why Vala had called Kazaar a ‘night child.’ It sparked something in Soren.

She had much to tell him while silently picking apart her thoughts on the sidelines while staring at Caellum’s back.

His hand was permanently intertwined with her sister’s.

Refocusing on the group, she caught Garridon staring at her, frowning.

Each of the other gods stood in front of their descendants, assessing them.

Caellum’s head remained bowed while Sadira stared up at Garridon, who only had eyes for Soren.

He was quieter than the others, revealing less of his personality.

Vala appeared to be the angriest of the group, and Keres the most mischievous.

Nerida, much like Larelle, was the most level-headed, yet Garridon was thoughtful and assessing.

What if I am a disappointment to him, too?

Soren thought. Looking away, Garridon glanced between his siblings to check they were not watching, igniting Soren’s panic.

What if he doubts my strength as heir? What if I have not proved myself?

Her conversations with the Lord of Night flitted through her memory and the urgency with which he commanded Soren to take the throne, the same urgency pressed on her by Lord Ryon when she feigned being in control of the situation.

Her hand twitched, moving to the dagger at her side.

She could prove herself here before the gods—prove she was worthy of her blood, her title, and her realm.

The other rulers would not challenge Soren if she had Garridon’s approval.

She slid the dagger from its holster, the wooden handle unusually cold against her skin.

Her fingers were stiff as she wrapped them around the hilt.

Soren’s hand trembled, and she frowned at her body’s betrayal.

Scanning the room, Soren ensured each ruler was focused elsewhere as she stepped forward.

It could all be mine. Another step. I could make them both proud.

She drew back her arm. I could take what he has guided me towards all these years.

On the final step, Soren paused as she felt the weight of Garridon’s gaze.

She smiled as though already victorious.

She went to strike but could not move an inch.

Soren frowned, and Garridon gave the slightest shake of his head as the murmuring in the room faded.

“No.”

Soren remained frozen with her hand around the dagger, angled low towards Caellum’s back, as Garridon’s voice entered her mind.

Her eyes widened a fraction at the glow in Garridon’s gaze as he paced the room with the other gods once more.

She followed him, watching as he inclined his head and narrowed his eyes.

Caellum’s head remained bowed, but Sadira moved slowly, glancing from the corner of her eye to where Soren stood.

“Why?” she returned, but he did not answer.

Soren winced as she felt claws invade her mind, reaching for the parts kept sacred for the Lord of Night.

She tried to resist, yet the hand was demanding, grabbing at every thought she had and clutching her deepest wishes and desires before releasing them and looking for something else. Her head pounded.

“Someone else has been here,” he said. He released her mind from his grasp as he walked past her, forcing her to step back from Caellum.

Her back met the stone wall, and she released the grip on her dagger as Garridon turned his back on Soren and stood directly behind Caellum and Sadira, shielding him.

Soren frowned and pondered why Garridon would not approve of her reclaiming her rightful place as queen.

She was torn between the will of two men: her god, and the man who had guided her for so long.

Regardless, she could not risk attacking now, not with the god’s power between her and her target.

“ Time —”

“ Is —”

“ Nearly —”

“ Up .”

The gods spoke quickly as light filtered back into the room, highlighting the crack on the table.

Their images flickered and ebbed, like they had before they cemented themselves into this world.

Soren looked up at the moon slowly creeping from the sun, bringing the sky to life once again.

She peered around Garridon’s back at the faces of the rulers, a mixture of frustration and confusion.

Soren was indifferent to the prophecy’s outcome, knowing the dark creatures it referenced were controlled by a man who would ensure no harm came to her.

“What more can you tell us?” asked Larelle.

“Anything.” she pleaded. Soren looked to where Nerida stood, peering down at her descendant with sympathy.

The relationships between each god and ruler were so different.

While Keres appeared to approve of Nyzaia, Vala refused to acknowledge Elisara at all.

The light in the room radiated, piercing through the gods’ forms, whose eyes widened as they shared a panicked look. Soren was not the only one to notice.

“What’s wrong?” Caellum asked. The image of the gods flickered .

“Prepare—”

“For—”

“War—”

“Death.”

Soren approached the table, trying to get a better look at Garridon as he began to fade.

“Outer—”

“Border—”

“Breached—”

“Beyond the Unsanctioned Isle.” The rulers pushed from their seats, desperate for more information. Sadira shared a panicked look with Caellum, and he rubbed her arm. Soren looked up at the reappearing sun.

“Fourteen days—”

“Fourteen nights—”

“They come to fight—”

“Prepare yourselves.”

A full beam of light streamed into the room as the gods faded, but not before Soren locked eyes a final time with Garridon, who stared intently at her before vanishing completely.

Stunned silence fell across the group. Fourteen days.

Soren hoped the Lord of Night would return to her dreams before then to prepare her for this time.

Perhaps this was her chance to take the throne amid the chaos of war, a war the rulers would not win.

Yet when she surveyed the room, there was no denying the unity between the rulers and their closest confidants, as Kazaar comforted Elisara, and Alvan and Larelle spoke in hushed, hurried voices.

Farid and Nyzaia stood opposite one another, deep in conversation, and Caellum and Sadira remained seated, holding hands.

Soren frowned at the small voice in her mind, reminding her she was alone.

“So, what are we going to do?” Soren asked, breaking the groups from their intimate discussions. They turned to look at her.

“We?” Nyzaia narrowed her eyes.

“The entire realm is at risk, is it not?” asked Soren.

“That includes Garridon, my primary focus.” She was not lying, though she cared more about learning their next strategy to reveal it to the Lord of Night when he returned.

Perhaps offering him such information would please him and he would allow her to keep her realm.

“They said the outer border beyond the Unsanctioned Isle, which means an attack is coming to Vala or Keres,” Elisara said to the room.

“Keres makes the most sense. The mountain ranges along Vala would delay an attack and offer the realm more safety,” said Nyzaia, and Farid nodded beside her.

“The land where the port of Myara sits is flat compared to Vala and offers easy access,” he added.

“What does that matter when the creatures can fly? They could easily infiltrate either realm,” Caellum said, and annoyingly, Soren agreed. Larelle and Alvan glanced at one another, and Larelle bit her lip.

“You two,” Soren said, pointing at them. “You know something.”

Alvan reached for Larelle’s hand and nodded reassuringly at her.

“When I was taken…” Larelle hesitated, twisting her hands in the skirts of her gown. “There is much I learned from being with the creature, a lot of which can be discussed in the coming days. But most importantly, they are not simply creatures .”

“What do you mean?” asked Sadira in her frustratingly gentle tone. Larelle exchanged a look with Alvan before turning back to the rulers with a sad smile.

“They can transform. They turned into humans like us—spoke, thought, and planned like us. We are not simply dealing with winged creatures.”

Chaos ensued as the rulers yelled multiple questions, drowning each other out. Sadira squeezed Caellum’s hand and rose; she made her way to Larelle. Alvan stepped back as Sadira embraced her. Soren tilted her head, watching as Sadira released Larelle and held her hands.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Larelle’s eyes watered before she swallowed and nodded, her smile strained. The queen of Nerida reminded Soren of her sister: the innate kindness, the adoration from others, yet Larelle commanded a room in a way Soren both respected and envied.

“I do not know if it is all of them,” Larelle continued. “But my point is, they could have some creatures on land in human form and others in the sky—a two-pronged attack.”

“Making Keres the likely location,” Farid confirmed, glancing at Nyzaia like a soldier waiting for command. Nyzaia looked at Kazaar, the only military commander in the room.

“It would be wise to move forces to Keres yet leave enough in each realm to guard entry points if needed,” Kazaar said. “If you will host us all?”

Nyzaia nodded, and Soren sighed inwardly. She did not think she could take fourteen days with them all in one place.

“We must leave immediately so we can plan our arrival,” Kazaar said.

“I will send Vlad to Vala to bring the forces and return the talisman,” Elisara said, and Alvan nodded.

“I will return to Nerida to alert the forces and collect Zarya,” said Alvan, and Soren scoffed. She did not think war was an appropriate place for a child, but then she did not understand the draw of motherhood or the need to be close to family.

“I trust you with the talisman,” Larelle said, passing it to Alvan to return it.

“I can return to Garridon,” Soren said, an opportunity to get the soldiers on her side as they travelled to Keres. Caellum turned in his seat to look at her with narrowed, surveying eyes. He did not speak.

“Thank you, Soren,” Sadira said, still standing beside Larelle.

Her tone was clipped, and her lips tight.

She does not trust my intentions . “Sir Cain will take the talisman for now.” Soren stepped forward, hand on the pommel of her sword as she opened her mouth to protest. Sadira had learned nothing when it came to commanding Soren.

“But you can accompany him,” Sadira added, and Soren had no chance to protest further because Elisara’s voice cut across the room.

“So, it is agreed?” Elisara asked, and the group nodded.

Soren surveyed their expressions and wondered if any of them were truly prepared.

While Soren had not been physically involved in a large-scale war, she had been at war with Caellum’s family for as long as she could remember.

The rulers all glanced at one another, the air heavy as the realisation settled upon them all.

Each reached for the hand of the person with them: Nyzaia with her captain, Elisara and her commander, Larelle and her lord, and Caellum and his betrothed.

Soren crossed her arms, her blood running cold.

“We head to Keres and prepare for war,” Larelle confirmed.