Page 34 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams (Fated to the Sun and Stars #3)
The sweet smell of decay is overtaken by the bitterness of burning wood.
I cough and splutter on the smoke as I rip my palm away from the stone.
The force that burned through me fades, and my sunlight sputters out, but I’m still left feeling like every inch of me is more alive than I’ve ever been before, fizzing with the unexpected infusion of magic.
And pain—I feel that too. From my injury and from the raw magic ripping through me. Enough pain to make my head spin and my breaths come shallow and short. Without fear or adrenaline driving me forward, the pain swallows everything for a minute.
Sure that the mortifus is no more, I collapse onto the cool stone, counting my heartbeats until they start to slow.
Not long after, footsteps reverberate across the floor, sprinting toward me.
“Ana!” Leon shouts my name like an invocation, his voice echoing across the chamber.
I sense, rather than see, him approach. The thudding of his heartbeat is like a comforting melody to my battered body and soul, even if it comes mingled with an abruptly sharp sense of fear.
He doesn’t have any reason to be afraid , I think hazily, and the fear subsides a little.
I’m not sure I understand what that means, but then Leon is beside me, reaching for me, and I don’t care about anything else.
LEON
I barrel into the chamber, heart pounding, searching for her. I sense she’s here somewhere, the pull acting like a beacon—clear as day, to the point where I don’t even need that useless fucking council giving me directions.
Please be alright, please .
The images of her lying cold and lifeless cut through me, sharp as steel, but I know they’re not real. I’d feel it if she was?—
I stop the thought short, only to find a new thought lighting up my awareness.
You have no reason to be afraid.
It calms me, allowing me to spot the shape of her outlined by a silvery glow at the center of the chamber. I run toward her, flooded with giddy relief when she turns her head and smiles at me.
“My love,” I say as I kneel beside her. She sheds a few tears that I wipe gently away with my thumb. “It’s okay,” I say. “Whatever it is, we’ll make it better.”
It’s then I see how she’s holding her leg strangely, the angle of it off.
“Where’s the mortifus?” I ask, brushing her hair back, trying to soothe her pain.
“There.” She points to a pile of ashes on the floor.
“Your Highness!” Diomi calls before I can ask her anything else. He strides across the chamber, bringing the rest of the council trailing behind him.
Now that I’m no longer filled with worry for Ana’s safety, I have room for the dark, jagged rage that blooms inside me. Perhaps killing every single one of them now would secure my reputation as a monster for the rest of history, perhaps it would start a war, but at least justice would be done.
Someone let that animal in .
I study their expressions, looking past the alarm and shock to spot the glint of hate beneath. Ana puts a hand to my chest, trying to calm whatever fury is rolling off me. But that just reminds me how close I came to losing her, and there’s steel in my voice with my next words as I stand up.
“Which one of you did this?” I snarl. “Which of you decided to murder us in the council’s own headquarters?”
Most of the council look genuinely sick at the thought. The woman with dreadlocks makes a choking noise.
“You don’t really think we’re responsible for this?” she gasps .
“One of you drew that thing here. Or do you expect me to believe you have mortifus roaming your corridors every day?”
Silence from the council as I kick at the pile of ash at our feet.
“I heard Etusca say you can commune with the Miravow. My guess is one of you called it here. You won’t commit violence, but it seems you’re quite happy to let the forest do your dirty work for you.”
If I wasn’t holding Ana up, I’d draw my sword now, let them see the flash of my blade.
“Or maybe it wasn’t just one of you,” I lower my voice. “Maybe all of you voted to execute the foreign royals you wish hadn’t crossed your borders.”
“No!” Diomi cries, appalled at the thought. “Whoever did this acted alone.”
“So you admit that it was one of you then?” I demand.
“We were the only ones who knew where you were in the building,” Diomi says miserably. “We received no reports of the mortifus crossing paths with anyone else on its way in—it came straight for you. Therefore, it must’ve been one of our number who let it in.”
I nod in agreement with his logic, then crouch back down beside Ana, checking her face for signs of pain.
“We need to get you somewhere you can heal and rest,” I say, noting the paleness of her complexion.
“No,” she says. “It’s alright. I want to hear this.” She leans up on her elbows, wincing with pain as she addresses Diomi. “Who do you think it could be? Who’s the most likely candidate?”
Several of them instantly turn to the short dryad who had so much attitude before.
He takes a step back, eyes wide. “Me? I’d never! It’s against our vows!”
“There’s a loophole, Letrium, and you know it. There’s nothing stopping you from knowingly letting harm befall a person as long as you don’t commit the act of violence yourself. You have also been the most vocal against the presence of our guests,” says the woman with dreadlocks .
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’d do something like this,” he says. “It’s an abomination!”
“Stop.”
The voice rings through the chamber, and a cluster of council members draw back to look at the person who spoke. A white-haired dryad, one of the oldest among them, steps forward.
“I called the mortifus. I let it in.” The dryad’s expression is calm, though his words send a shockwave of distressed noises through his peers. “I can’t allow another to suffer for my actions, standing by as I watch you punish an innocent party. My vow won’t allow it.”
“But your vow allowed this , Haldim?” Diomi asks, disgust dripping from his words. “What about these innocent parties?”
He gestures toward us, and the old dryad shakes his head in reproach, like Diomi’s being a fool.
“Innocent? Are you really using that word to describe Leonidas Claerwyn, the man they call the Nightmare Prince? And her,” he glares at Ana.
“We know about the man she burned alive. You can bet there have been more since then. These people have murder seared into their very bones, and then they had the arrogance to step foot onto our land, and threaten us ?”
“That’s enough, Haldim,” Diomi snaps, but the old dryad keeps going, looking around at his fellow council members as if he expects them to agree.
“I was only setting things right—letting the forest protect us from being tainted by their evil. Even before they arrived, we knew these people wouldn’t leave without taking whatever they want from us.
They are brutes who would hold us hostage until we give them all our secrets.
They needed to be destroyed—and the Miravow must agree, as it sent the mortifus here. Who are we to ignore its wisdom?”
“The Miravow reacts badly to anyone who isn’t dryad,” Diomi says furiously.
“Haldim.” The other older council member—the woman with silvery hair—says his name with such sorrow that even he seems surprised. “How could you think this was the right thing to do? How could you twist our values so much that you feel there’s any way to justify this?”
Haldim opens his mouth, but another dryad says something in Agathyrian, and he freezes. For the first time, the old dryad looks frightened.
“No, I was doing what was best for us all. See sense, I beg of you.” It finally dawns on him that they’re not agreeing with him. In fact, they’re closing in on him with a look on their faces that spells judgment.
“ Sangquise ,” Letrium spits, and Ana inhales sharply.
“What is it?” I ask her, worried she has some injury I didn’t spot before.
“They’re going to banish him,” she says. Diomi is intoning something in Agathyrian as Haldim’s shouts rise.
“You can’t do this! Please!” His voice cracks, sobs interrupting his words.
I know I won’t ever be able to truly imagine the pain of this for a dryad. Their very souls are linked to the Miravow. To be exiled from it forever is to condemn him to suffering for the rest of his life. Despite my rage at what he’s done, I feel a shred of pity.
“ Esque nor algarin. Algarin ,” he babbles in Agathyrian.
“He’s saying he’ll do anything, if they could just forgive him,” Ana murmurs as we watch the dryads slowly close in around him.
It’s strange to see his desperation even as he allows himself to be herded out of the chamber. Even now, there’s no tussle or fight. They don’t lay hands on him and drag him away. He goes peacefully, even as his wails of horror reverberate off the chamber’s walls.