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CHAPTER

TWO

Oralia

How odd it was to smell the blossoms of the orchard, to walk through the rows and rows of trees, and feel as though nothing had changed. It was as if my time in Infernis had merely been a dream and I had woken to find myself right back where I started. The only reminder that everything was different was the bond connecting me to Ren, the subtle shift of his magic within my own, and the memory of his lips on mine.

“Did you miss this?” Drystan asked as we walked, gray eyes assessing.

Can a bird miss its cage?

I frowned, gazing up at the bare branches of the tree withering in my absence. Ilyana had been beside themselves with joy when I had hesitantly ventured from the castle and onto the grounds this morning. The crops had not given forth what they’d hoped during the winter months, and my return meant all would surely be well—or so they said. It was why we were pacing the orchards now. Ilyana and the other gardeners observed from a respectful distance, waiting for my magic to fix what my absence had wrought.

“Yes,” I answered, drawing a small smile to my lips. “Though I missed you most of all.”

That was the truth at least. I’d missed Drystan each moment I was gone. I missed his paternal love and care, the quiet questions he cast my way, and how he pushed me to think outside of myself.

“Have you ever met the Under King?” I asked, chancing a glance in his direction.

It was Drystan’s turn to frown. Would this gulf between us always be so wide? He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword—so similar to another soldier I knew who served within Infernis—and settled his attention on a particularly sad-looking tree.

“I have not met him, no,” Drystan murmured, placing a gloved hand on the bark. He opened his mouth to say more before he cleared his throat and dropped his hand.

The loss of the Under King’s wings. Do you not contemplate the cruelty of it?

I wanted to press him on it, to ask him why he always wanted me to consider Ren’s suffering. Because, stars , had Ren suffered. Even now, Ren bore the scars of the torment and yet he continued to hold on to the hope that one day he might be reunited with that severed part of him—his wings. But I knew it was not fair for me to force Drystan to speak of things he could not bear to, especially when I refused to lay my own truth at his feet. The truth was dangerous within the wards of Aethera, and there were ears everywhere.

“Best not keep them waiting,” he said after a moment, looking over my shoulder to the crowd gathered at the edge of the orchards.

I pressed my lips into a thin line, and a soft smile tugged at his cheeks, a reminder of who we’d been before I’d left. And so, I nodded, taking a deep breath and rolling my shoulders back. It was easy now to call forth the power, to allow the hum of my song to brighten until the entire orchard was swimming in the song of life. Magic danced across my skin, reaching out to touch the trees with a sigh with relief, leaves shuddering and branches spreading wider with blossoms.

There, within the light, was the dark. But unlike the last time I was here, I did not fear it. Now, I understood its purpose. My shadows observed with a careful eye as the life swept through my body. There was a danger that lay within. If I was not cautious, I could be reduced to nothing but light and life to begin again in something new. Therefore, I stoked the power carefully, pushing it through the trees.

“Great Mothers,” Drystan murmured, his exclamation mixing with the riotous sound of joy from those observing beyond.

I grimaced. I’d left this kingdom with a brittle hold on both my powers, one feeding into the other. Gritting my teeth, I came to a stop before one of the large trees with the heaviest fruits. This would get back to Typhon if he was not already observing out of sight. A small twang echoed through my chest as I gazed at one tree, forcing my breaths into faster pants.

Wings rustled, and a bird landed on a nearby bush within my line of sight. I stared at the raven for a long moment, magic humming through my veins.

“Oralia…” Drystan’s voice was a quiet warning which echoed of a time long ago.

I called the shadows, invited them to twine around my shoulders, to push the gloves from my hands, exposing the deadly power living within my palms. The raven stared back with all the awareness of a god, understanding in its black eyes. With the slowness of dreams, my arms outstretched and I placed a bare hand on the trunk.

It crumbled to ash beneath my touch.

Someone screamed. Before I could have blamed it on my lack of control, but now, I could only stare upon the tree with a strange sort of satisfaction, mixing with the shame that my power had brought those behind me distress.

I wondered if it would be enough—if my charade could continue for another day. The last few nights, Typhon had called me into the throne room, asking the same sort of questions he had the first day. Each time, I gave the same answer as before. Each night, I swore my allegiance to Aethera and its ruler. Each night, I forsook in words my people and my mate.

The wind swirled the ashes of the apple tree up into the sky. Through the dust, I could barely make out the raven as it took flight, its soft feathery wings brushing over the top of my head in a caress before it disappeared, reminding me of my true purpose here.

I was not here to bring prosperity to this kingdom.

I was here to make sure it burned to ash.