Page 7 of Realms of Shadow and Sun (A World of Sun and Shadow #3)

It was hard to even look at her. Every time she spoke, Renya wanted to flinch and look away. The very sight of Cressida, with her piercing purple eyes and cruel smirk, sent shivers down Renya's spine. The oppressive atmosphere of the throne room, with its looming shadows and cold stone floors, only amplified her discomfort. How had she pledged herself to this monster? The weight of her decision pressed down on her, making each breath a struggle.

"Pay attention. Our magic works on impulse. None of that 'quieting the mind.' You have to want it. You need a reason to bring it forth."

Cressida's voice cut through the air like a whip, each word laced with impatience and barely contained anger. Renya could feel the power radiating off the Shadow Queen, a dark, suffocating aura that seemed to suck the very life from the room.

Renya wanted to protest. Her mind screamed in defiance, urging her to fight back, to resist. But every time she tried to resist Cressida, her body burned and she lost control of herself. It felt as if liquid fire coursed through her veins, setting every nerve ending ablaze. Whatever magic was woven into the blood promise was strong, an invisible chain binding her will to Cressida's commands. Renya forced herself not to comply, to disobey, but she couldn't manage more than a few seconds of hesitation before her body snapped to attention. The internal struggle was exhausting, draining her both mentally and physically. Even now, she tried to hold off, but the sweat started at her hairline and she felt sick for the three seconds she managed to force herself still. Her vision swam, and her legs trembled with the effort of resisting.

"Now!"

Cressida bellowed, her voice echoing off the cavernous walls of the throne room. The command reverberated through Renya's very being.

Renya acted on instinct, the bright golden strands of her magic bursting forth and rocketing towards Cressida. The magic felt warm and alive, pulsing with her own life force as it streamed from her fingertips. For a brief moment, the golden light illuminated the dark corners of the room, pushing back the oppressive shadows.

The Shadow Queen blocked the rays with a lazy flick of her wrist, and a shield of black mist deflected the heat of Renya's magic. The collision of light and dark created a brief, dazzling display of power before Renya's magic dissipated into nothingness. The air crackled with residual energy, leaving a metallic taste in Renya's mouth.

"See? Instinct,"

she spat, her tone dripping with disdain. A cruel smile played at the corners of her lips, clearly relishing Renya's struggle and discomfort.

Renya glanced at the clock suspended between the two ivory pillars, its ornate hands seeming to move at an agonizingly slow pace. She'd been working with Cressida for an hour already. Her body was tight and exhausted, both from using her magic and trying to defy Cressida at every chance she got. Every muscle ached, and a dull throb had settled behind her eyes. But at this point, she was starting to realize it was useless. The futility of her resistance weighed heavily on her, threatening to crush what little hope she had left.

Just as she was about to ask to be dismissed and go back to her chamber, her jaw dropped. The heavy doors of the throne room swung open with a resounding creak.

Sion strolled into the throne room, with a piece of parchment in his hand. His presence was like a breath of fresh air in the stifling atmosphere. Renya wished she could meet his eye, beg him to help her out of this horrid predicament, but she knew she couldn't blow his cover. The risk was too great, the consequences unthinkable. Instead, she watched him walk gracefully over to the Shadow Queen's side, speaking in a low tone and handing her the paper he carried. His movements were fluid and practiced, betraying nothing of his true allegiance.

Cressida grabbed the paper and read it, her eyes darting over the script. While she was reading, Sion gave Renya a meaningful look. His eyes, usually guarded and neutral, held a flicker of something—concern? hope?—that made Renya's heart skip a beat. Renya attempted to figure out what he was trying to tell her, her mind racing through possibilities. But the second Cressida balled up the parchment in her hands, crushing it with unnecessary force, Sion dropped his eyes, his face once again an emotionless mask.

"Well, princess. It seems your mate survived. I was hoping he'd perish from his wounds, but it seems like I'll have to separate you two another way."

Cressida's words were like ice, each syllable dripping with malice. The casual cruelty in her voice made Renya's stomach churn.

Renya's heart raced faster, pounding so hard she was sure Cressida must be able to hear it. Surely, there wasn't a way to separate them? Fated matings were sacred and eternal, woven into the very fabric of their beings. Could she do such a thing? The mere thought sent a wave of panic through Renya, threatening to overwhelm her.

Without glancing at Renya, Cressida swept out of the room, her dark robes billowing behind her like a storm cloud. She called over her shoulder, her voice echoing in the vast space. "You're dismissed. Head back to your room, immediately. Sion, go back to my chambers. I'll be with you shortly. I have business to attend to."

The underlying threat in her words was unmistakable, and Renya felt a pang of sympathy for Sion. She watched as Cressida's figure disappeared down the sky bridge, her silhouette a dark blot against the fading daylight.

Sion crossed in front of Renya, and in a split second, Renya's eye caught a tiny scrap of parchment floating to the floor in front of her. Time seemed to slow as she watched it drift down. Her heart leapt into her throat. Could this be a message? Hope, fragile but persistent, bloomed in her chest. She placed her slippered foot on top of it and slowly pulled it towards her, eyes darting to ensure Cressida didn't see the movement. Her pulse raced, and she held her breath, terrified of discovery. Thankfully, the Shadow Queen's back was turned, and she was already halfway across the sky bridge, her attention focused elsewhere.

Sion left the throne room in a flash, no doubt heading to his own personal hell that was Cressida's room. Renya's heart ached for him, knowing the ordeal that awaited him.

Alone, Renya bent and quickly grasped the paper, her fingers trembling slightly. She knew that if she strayed too long, she'd be forced to comply by the blood promise. The magical binding tugged at her, an insistent pressure urging her towards her room. She thrust the paper into the bodice of her gown, the rough texture of the parchment scratching against her skin, and quickly walked to her room. Each step felt like an eternity, her mind racing with possibilities of what the note might contain.

The second she burst through the door, she pulled out the sliver of paper and unfolded it, her fingers clumsy with anticipation. The words, hastily scrawled but unmistakably Sion's handwriting, leapt out at her:

Tonight at dusk. Leave your window unlocked.

Renya's heart leapt and gratitude washed over her, bringing unexpected tears to her eyes. Sion was going to help her. She was so thankful to have an ally here, even if she couldn't speak directly to him in anyone's presence. The tiny scrap of paper felt like a lifeline, a connection to hope in this dark place.

Perhaps Sion had a plan to get her back to Grayden or had uncovered a way to break her promise to Cressida. Perhaps he would come bearing news of Grayden. She knew he was alive, Cressida's revelation was no surprise to Renya. She could still feel him at times. It wasn't like before, when she could feel him the same way she felt her own pulse, but whenever his emotions were strong she could sense them. She felt him the second he woke up and processed her loss every morning. It was equally as painful for her, and it sometimes woke her up from her own sleep. The phantom ache in her chest, a constant reminder of their separation, throbbed dully.

She sat on the bed and tried to reach for him again. She would take anything, just a whisper of his voice or a flash of his face. Renya sat there, unmoving as the minutes flew by. The room grew darker as the sun set, shadows creeping across the floor. She strained with all her might, reaching out with her mind and heart, desperate for even the faintest connection. But the silence in her mind was deafening, the absence of Grayden's presence a wound that refused to heal.

Before long, Margot arrived and brought her evening meal. The old servant's face was lined with sympathy, but she said nothing as she set down the tray. Renya wasn't exactly being starved, but it was a far cry from the luxury she experienced in the other kingdoms. It felt like she was back traveling again, with just a few protein-packed items to sustain her. The simple fare—a hunk of bread, some cheese, and a small portion of dried meat—seemed to mock her. After the spread she saw at her breakfast with Cressida, she knew it was a statement. If Renya could be civil to Cressida, she would be allowed to take her meals in the dining room with a magnificent buffet.

Renya would sooner starve. The thought of sharing a meal with Cressida, of pretending civility while her captor gloated, made her stomach turn.

She untied the front of her gown and took a quick bath, eager to be rid of the sweat clinging to her scalp and back. The cool water was a relief against her skin, washing away the physical remnants of the day's ordeal. But it could do nothing to cleanse the fear and uncertainty that clung to her like a second skin. She dried off, her movements mechanical, lost in thought.

Renya braided her hair, the familiar motions bringing a small measure of comfort. Her fingers worked swiftly, muscle memory taking over where conscious thought failed. She then slipped on the simple nightgown Margot left. The fabric was soft against her skin, a small luxury in this place of hardship.

Renya unlocked the window, the latch cool beneath her fingers. The night air seeped in, carrying with it the scent of distant forests and the promise of freedom. She then pushed a large chest in front of the door to her room, blocking the entrance. The wood scraped against the stone floor, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room. If anyone tried to enter the room with Sion present, there would be some warning. It wasn't much, but it was all she could do to ensure their safety.

A soft bird call startled her, breaking the silence. Her heart leapt to her throat as she glanced at the window just in time to see Sion climb through. He moved with the grace of a shadow, barely disturbing the air around him. He was wearing his usual golden robes, but his dark skin was marred with several scratches along his cheek and temple. The injuries, stark against his complexion, made Renya's breath catch. His robes were wrinkled and he was barefoot, and with a sinking pit in her stomach, Renya realized he came straight from Cressida's bed. The implications of his disheveled state hit her like a physical blow. Her face fell and she hung her head low, shame and guilt washing over her. She might be Cressida's prisoner, but it was nothing like the evil hold she had over Sion's soul. She ached for him, but had no idea how to possibly console him. What words could possibly ease the burden he carried?

Sion stood there for a second, awkwardly looking at Renya. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and shared pain. Then, unable to bear it any longer, Renya rushed over and threw her arms around him. He stumbled a bit, surprised by the affection, but then patted her on the back. His touch was hesitant at first, as if he had forgotten what genuine human contact felt like.

"Renya...how are you?"

His voice was soft, laced with concern and a weariness that seemed soul-deep.

Renya stepped out of the embrace and sat on the bed. The mattress creaked slightly under her weight. She motioned to the chair at the vanity and Sion pulled it out quietly and sat, before sighing heavily. The sigh seemed to carry the weight of all his burdens, filling the room with an almost tangible sorrow.

"I'm okay...a bit shook up. And hurting—every minute I'm away from Grayden is painful."

Her eyes watered, but she kept her tears back, knowing that Sion was no doubt suffering as well. She blinked rapidly, determined not to break down. Her voice wavered slightly as she continued, "It feels like a part of me is missing. Like I'm not whole anymore."

"I'll try to get you back to him, however I can. But unfortunately, the queen has severely limited the freedom granted to me since your arrival. It's almost as though she senses where my true loyalties lie. But if she did, I can't imagine she'd let me live. Perhaps she just wants to keep your existence a secret."

Sion's words were carefully measured, each syllable weighted with the gravity of their situation.

"Is it true?"

Renya asked, her voice small and wavering with dread. The question that had been gnawing at her since her arrival finally found voice. "Is she...my mother?"

Sion's brow wrinkled and he shifted uncomfortably on the stool. The wood creaked beneath him, breaking the tense silence. "While I don't know for certain, it's...very plausible. It makes sense that someone would hide you from her in the human world if she was after your power, but to go after her own daughter? Yet...her depravity knows no limits..."

His voice trailed off, leaving the horrifying implications hanging in the air between them.

"Sion, I'm so sorry. To act in the capacity you must—"

Renya's voice cracked, the full weight of Sion's sacrifice hitting her anew.

"Don't fret over me, Renya. I serve both you and Grayden faithfully, and it is my sworn duty to do what I must."

His tone was firm, but Renya could see the pain lurking in the depths of his eyes.

"Still—"

she began, but Sion cut her off.

"I'm happy to serve my future queen. At least, I am assuming...?"

A hint of hope colored his words, a reminder of the future they were all fighting for.

Renya rubbed the spot where her ring previously sat. The absence of the familiar weight was a constant reminder of all she had lost. Sion watched her and met her face, confused by her motion.

"Yes. Grayden asked me to marry him. But my ring—Cressida took it and threw it out over the valley."

The memory of that moment, of Cressida's casual cruelty, made Renya's heart clench.

"I'm so sorry, Renya. I imagine finding out her daughter is fated to someone whom she once desired has unhinged her. Even more than normal."

Sion's words were gentle, but they opened up a new realm of horrifying possibilities in Renya's mind.

Renya hadn't thought about that perspective before and blanched. The color drained from her face as the implications sank in. The idea that Cressida might harbor feelings for Grayden added a new, sickening dimension to their predicament.

Sion gave her a sad smile. "That's what I live with everyday."

The simple statement carried the weight of months of suffering, of countless indignities endured in silence.

Renya walked over to him and gave his shoulder a squeeze in acknowledgment. It felt inadequate in the face of his sacrifice, but it was all she could offer. The warmth of human contact, however brief, seemed to bring a flicker of life back to Sion's eyes.

"So...any idea on how to get us out of this mess?"

Renya asked, trying to inject a note of hope into her voice.

"You need to learn all you can, Renya. I know you're bound to her, so you can't leave. But you can learn and conquer your magic. Grayden will find someway to break the magic holding you here...but once that's done, you need to be able to survive. You're going to need to do what I do—make yourself useful to her."

He grimaced before continuing, the words seeming to pain him. "Make her believe you are the daughter she's always wanted. Be her heir—at least on the outside and then fight her with everything you have on the inside."

Renya sat back down and smoothed her nightgown, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the harshness of their reality. Her fingers trembled slightly as she considered Sion's words. The thought of pretending to be Cressida's dutiful daughter made her stomach churn, but she understood the necessity of it. "How do I do that?"

"You'll find a way. You're clever and quick-thinking. Maybe once you've earned her trust, you'll find some kind of weakness. But seriously, take advantage of anything she's willing to teach you."

Sion's voice was low and urgent, his eyes darting to the window as if expecting Cressida to materialize at any moment.

Renya nodded, her mind already racing with possibilities. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on her shoulders, but with it came a spark of determination. "Thanks, Sion. Do you think you could get a message to Grayden?"

Sion's face softened at the mention of Grayden, a flicker of hope passing across his features. "I'll try the best I can—Cressida is asleep and drank heavily before bed so I'm hoping she won't notice my absence. I'll try to get a hawk out. What do you want me to tell him?"

Renya hesitated for a second. What could she possibly say to him? How could she encapsulate all her love, fear, and hope in a brief message? The words seemed to stick in her throat, inadequate in the face of their separation. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tell him...tell him to trust me. To wait. And that I'm okay. And...that I love him."

She flushed a bit, the declaration feeling both deeply personal and woefully insufficient.

But Sion didn't seem embarrassed about her declaration. Instead, his eyes held a mixture of understanding and sadness. "I will, Renya. Hopefully we'll talk again soon. Leave your window unlocked in the evenings and I'll try to visit when I can. Good luck."

Sion gave her a quick embrace, the gesture conveying more than words ever could. Then, with the agility of a cat, he pushed himself through the window, his golden robes blowing gently in the night air before he disappeared into the darkness.

Renya stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty window. The cool night breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the scent of freedom that now seemed so far away. She closed her eyes, trying to commit every detail of this encounter to memory –the sound of Sion's voice, the warmth of his embrace, the glimmer of hope he had brought with him.

With a heavy sigh, she moved to close the window, leaving it unlocked as instructed. Her fingers lingered on the latch, a part of her wishing she could follow Sion into the night. But she knew her place was here, for now. She had a role to play, a battle to fight from within enemy territory.

Renya turned back to her room, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The enormity of the task ahead of her was daunting. To deceive Cressida, to learn from her while secretly plotting against her – it seemed almost impossible. And yet, what choice did she have?

As she crawled into bed, exhaustion finally overtaking her, Renya's last thoughts were of Grayden. She reached out with her mind, sending her love across the distance that separated them. And just before sleep claimed her, she could have sworn she felt a faint warmth in response, a ghostly touch that whispered of hope and reunion.