Page 9 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Nyzaia

U pon opening the door of her chambers, Nyzaia stumbled and collided with Tajana, who reached out to keep her from tripping over the skirts of her lehenga.

“When you guard a room, I don’t expect you to be standing quite so close to the door,” grumbled Nyzaia, straightening.

“I told her it was too close,” Farid said. He stood on the opposite side of the door, his back pressed against the wall. Tajana glared at him.

“Seeing as there is an unconscious queen in the room upstairs, and we have no idea what happened”—Tajana stroked Nyzaia’s arm— “I thought it important to stay close while you sleep, in case anything went wrong.” Nyzaia refrained from repeating their argument the night prior when Nyzaia had left Kazaar’s rooms. Tajana had insisted on spending the night with her, as she did on most occasions when she was off duty, but Nyzaia wished to be alone, desperate for some time to think. Tajana had not taken it well.

“I feel like you’re pushing me away.”

Nyzaia ignored the pang of guilt and focused on the task ahead. She had already wasted time after sleeping longer than intended.

“You cannot honestly believe Kazaar did something to Elisara.” Tajana kept pace on her left, and Farid positioned himself to her right, constantly scanning their surroundings.

“I don’t want to believe he would, but…” Tajana hesitated, glancing cautiously at Farid, who remained expressionless.

“Farid is a member of the Queen’s Guard as much as you or the others, Tajana.

You can speak in front of him.” Nyzaia continued toward her father’s office, shivering again at the coldness haunting the corridor as she approached the dark doors.

Nyzaia understood Tajana’s apprehension; after all, Farid was simply a guard who won his position; he was not a part of the syndicate or even a Red Stone, yet they could not keep everything from him if he was to remain a part of her closest guards.

Tajana would have to adjust to his presence like Jabir, Issam, and Rafik had.

“ Anything ?” Tajana emphasised. Nyzaia considered the implications. Something terrible had happened to one of Novisia’s rulers; perhaps divulging her knowledge to her closest companions could be beneficial and keep them on alert. Farid had proved himself loyal so far.

“Anything,” Nyzaia decided, opening the doors to her father’s office. Tajana huffed and halted behind Nyzaia, who stopped in her tracks, her eyes immediately falling on the open door at the other end of the room. It had never been there before. Tajana made to walk toward it with Farid on her heels.

“No,” Nyzaia commanded. Farid stopped instantly, but Tajana hesitated.

While Nyzaia was clueless about what lay within that room, Kazaar was a brother to her.

She needed to protect him, too, regardless of what he had hidden.

Farid backed away, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword while his eyes roamed over the clear view of the Vala mountains in the distance. Tajana stepped forward.

“You don’t know what could be in there, love,” she said. Nyzaia blinked, and flames crawled up her arms.

“I am sure I can handle it.”

Farid failed to hide his smirk as Nyzaia strode into the room and pulled the door behind her, leaving it slightly ajar.

She slipped and gripped the wall for purchase, shivering as her body adjusted to the plummeting temperature; it was colder here than in the office itself.

Why did her father have a hidden room? And what within it caused trouble between Kazaar and Elisara ?

Finding her footing, Nyzaia carefully stepped forward and slowly turned to take in the glistening room of ice.

Elisara’s power had escalated, but why? With a wave of her hand, Nyzaia’s flames made quick work of melting the ice-encased room, yet she cursed when glancing down at the pool of water surrounding her feet.

A piece of parchment lay within it, the ink darkening.

She grabbed it, squinting at the blurred lines. Only one was clear.

“The Gods may whisper and help them on,” Nyzaia read aloud. The prophecy. Why would my father have the prophecy?

Nyzaia knelt, the hem of her skirts darkening in the water as she examined the statues on the table.

Were they the Gods? Waves rushed at the feet of one, while flames, vines, and mountains marked the others.

Her eye paused at the base of the pair in the centre, embracing in a way that spoke of desperation.

A sun and a moon. Nyzaia’s mind returned to the raised moon faintly etched on Elisara’s collarbone.

Was whatever happened in this room linked to those on the table before her?

The parchment in her hand peeled into pieces, the water having won the war.

Nyzaia placed it carefully on the table before more pieces crumbled away, and she let her flames dry the parchment and the floor.

Nyzaia’s sodden skirts dragged behind her as she circled the room, trailing her hands along the cool glass of the gold-framed mirror propped against the wall in the corner.

The engravings marking the glass felt harsh under her fingertips, as though someone had hastily etched the words.

She did not recognise the symbols, but the mirror’s words were forever ingrained in her mind. She read them again.

‘The door to the soul bears all to hear,

Multiple generations is the rule of the seer.

With those of white and those of black,

The spirit of the first makes their way back.

When the darkness returns, sacrifice is made,

In the wake of disaster, the return of the blade.

When light meets dark in the rarest of times ,

When all that is left is the last of the lines.

The power to awaken that of old lore,

Lies in the soul of those with all four.

From fire and ice, the King and Queen must hide,

Secrets from the past, the heirs must find.

Only together can they defeat and restore,

Only together can they gain so much more.

The Gods may whisper and help them on,

Only if all possess that from Ithyion.’

Nyzaia cursed. That was why Kazaar and Elisara had been in her father’s office.

They were searching for her father’s secrets.

Flames roared up Nyzaia’s arms, her fury punctuated by the pain in her chest. Perhaps Kazaar was now more loyal to his new queen than her, his sister .

Nyzaia would not have questioned him if he had requested to search the rooms alone.

They were here as her guests to investigate what Nyzaia’s father and Vespera had kept hidden.

They had no right to do this without me.

“Everything okay, love?” Tajana called from the other side of the door. Nyzaia rolled her eyes.

“Hmmm,” Nyzaia said through pursed lips.

When she reached the desk, she frowned and glanced around the room.

It was the only other piece of furniture present.

Instinctively, she reached for the small, framed portrait lying on its surface.

The woman staring back at her reflected many of Elisara’s traits: thick brows and dark hair framing her face.

Nyzaia had only met Vespera on a few occasions.

“You did not respond,” called Tajana; the door creaked as she pushed it open.

In an annoyed fury, Nyzaia summoned a tower of flames to block the opening, an evident signal to leave her be.

Farid mumbled something to Tajana, likely along the lines of I told you so .

Soon, the mumbling turned to shouts. Nyzaia sighed, dropped the portrait, and exited the room.

She slammed the door behind her, blowing strands of hair across her face as she glared at her captain and guard.

Tajana pointed a knife at Farid, who stood unfazed in the same place Nyzaia had left him.

“How am I to get anything done if I must constantly monitor you two bickering?” Nyzaia snapped.

Farid had the sense to avert his eyes while Tajana opened her mouth to protest, stopping at Nyzaia’s pointed look.

Finally relenting, Tajana sheathed her knife and leaned against the worn blue armchair, flicking her dark braid over her shoulder.

Nyzaia glided toward the bookshelf where Farid stood and scanned the titles on the hundreds of dust-covered, leather-bound books, searching for the one she had seen before—one without a speck of dust.

Farid broke the silence as Nyzaia scoured the shelves on the left. “This room is odd. The King always struck me as someone incredibly proud of his realm, who would want to survey his city, not the mountains of another realm.”

Nyzaia wondered what had suddenly made Farid so chatty.

“Well, the canyons house the Abis Forge, which is arguably the biggest source of funding for the realm.” Nyzaia explained, stretching her back as she straightened.

She did not miss the darkening of Farid’s expression at the mention of the forge.

She peered over her shoulder at the unobstructed view of the canyon and mountains.

She had not thought about the oddness plaguing this room, but having been in the secret room beside it, she knew there was more to it.

Nyzaia narrowed her eyes as she surveyed the room’s contents again: the pale blue, the two wine glasses, the stark snow on the distant Vala mountains, and Vespera’s portrait in the adjoining room.

“They were together,” she breathed. Tajana tilted her head. “My father and Vespera were lovers.”

“Could that be the secret that the…” Tajana paused and glanced at Farid.

“That the prophecy refers to,” Nyzaia continued. “Perhaps.” Farid barely batted an eye at the mention of a prophecy, his stark blue eyes still fixed on the view of the canyon and mountains. She shared a look with Tajana, both seemingly confused by his behaviour.

“Should I look for more evidence that links them together?” asked Tajana, pushing herself off the armchair. Nyzaia shook her head and turned back to face the bookshelves, her jewellery clinking with her movements.