Page 9

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Oralia

“Queen…” Drystan breathed.

I nodded, sagging with the weight of the night, but Sidero stood before I could stumble, placing a hand on my elbow. Their kind face was tense with worry before they turned to catch Thorne’s eye. Everyone rose to their feet as Thorne cut through the crowd with his large shoulders. His bright red beard twitched with his frown. Morana, the God of Night, followed close behind. Her ice-blue eyes were intent upon my face, and my stomach churned to realize she did not appear surprised.

The night had told her this day would come.

“May I?” Thorne asked, raising his hands to gesture at the gashes along my throat.

A muscle twitched in my jaw. “Later.” I turned, leaning heavier on Sidero than I wanted to take the few steps up the dais so I could look upon Ren’s people.

My people.

Our people.

“Typhon has slain our king.” The words were hollow, an echo of the grief slinking through my chest. A murmur slithered through the crowd. “Now he keeps Ren locked within Aethera to be held prisoner upon his resurrection.”

I took a deep breath, steadying my shaking hands. This was all too soon—too much. Ren should be here. Ren would know what to say, how to rally his people, and how to strengthen Infernis’s borders. I was an impostor in his place, merely a placeholder for the god who truly ruled this kingdom.

“I do not expect you to fight…or for those of you who can leave these lands to infiltrate Aethera.” My gaze flickered from Horace to Thorne to Morana, to the other gods I barely knew within the room. A tall, willowy god with golden skin and eyes like citrine gems I’d seen only a few times gazed back at me with something like approval in his gaze and flames dancing over his fingertips. “I only prepare you that soon Typhon will be at our door, and we must do what we can to fight and retrieve our king.”

Dimitri stepped to the edge of the dais, withdrawing his sword and balancing it in both hands. Morana was the next to follow, the blackness of night curling between her palms, sharpening into a star-tipped spear. Thorne was next with his short dagger and Horace with his scythe I rarely saw. One by one, until Drystan was the last standing, his face struck with horror-laced confusion.

“I will not ask you to fight or pick a side,” I murmured only for him.

Sadness crumpled Drystan’s face, light catching on the glass of his eyes. He shook his head slowly, taking a step forward. “There is no side but yours.”

Dimitri shifted, allowing Drystan space to kneel. The sight of it sent strange empty chord thrumming through my chest as he raised his empty hands.

“You are my sovereign as you are my child, my queen as you are my daughter,” he whispered, emotion thick in his voice. “I do not understand how this has happened, and I will need answers. But regardless of how this came about, I will follow you to the ends of this world and beyond. Merely place a sword within my grasp.”

His face blurred as I blinked back tears. I wanted to rush into his arms, to have him hold me as he had when I had been merely a child terrified of a storm. Drystan was right—he was the only father I had ever known. I swallowed and nodded once before gesturing with an open palm for all to rise. The sight of so many powerful beings on their knees before me was… wrong . I might have been their queen, but I was no match for their power.

The doors swung wide, heavy footsteps rang through the room before Mecrucio and Aelestor skittered around the corner. They were breathless, hair wild and cheeks ruddy. Aelestor’s cloak streamed behind him with his speed. Mecrucio’s eyes were glassy as both gods closed the distance between us, falling to their knees and pressing their foreheads to my bloody feet.

Mecrucio gasped. Beside him, Aelestor was silent, but his shoulders shook with grief. Slowly, I tugged back on my gloves and crouched, placing one hand on Mecrucio’s shoulders, and the other on the back of Aelestor’s head, shushing them even as my throat burned. Horace appeared at Mecrucio’s side, running a gentle hand through his curls.

“I offer you my life, Your Grace, for you to exact your vengeance upon,” Mecrucio murmured, pressing a kiss to my ankle. “I have failed you both.”

“I have no need for vengeance against my own,” I answered, gripping his shoulder until he looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, face pale. “Why do you say such things?”

The God of Travelers licked his cracked lips, glittering tears pooling at the corners of his eyes before spilling down his cheeks. “Because our king is gone.”

“For now,” Horace said gently. “He will—”

“ No ,” Aelestor cut across him, fingers gripping the bloodied hem of my gown while Mecrucio fumbled for something in his cloak. “You do not understand.”

I blinked, a buzz filling my ears as Mecrucio withdrew a familiar black box and the air thinned. His hands shook as he proffered it toward me. It was the same as the one Typhon had received in the throne room. My power shied away from it even as my heart beat in my chest, the thrumming of the absent soul bond moving me closer.

“Tell me what you know,” I commanded, the words coming out in a rasp.

Aelestor sobbed. The sound was so pure in its grief, fresh tears dripped down my face.

Mecrucio’s throat clicked with a swallow. He held the box higher, but I did not touch it. “Typhon is not keeping Ren within the castle. He…he has—” He cleared his throat.

It was Aelestor who finished for him in halting tones. “Ren was ripped apart, piece by piece, and scattered across this world.”

A moan slipped through my lips, and I fell back onto the step, horror creeping around my throat. My magic pulsed, shadows flared in time with the beating of my heart. I shook my head, a negation on my tongue before Mecrucio’s eyes caught mine.

“He will not return. His magic requires a complete vessel to resurrect.”

Dimitri’s face paled. “But his wings—”

The last time Ren had died, his wings had been stripped from him and he had returned.

“His wings are a mark of our kind,” Horace explained. “A mark of a timeless god. They were made before this world truly began, and once removed, they cannot be regrown. He can resurrect without them, but he cannot reanimate from them. They are outside of our realm and all that grows.”

Mecrucio nodded, pushing the box forward, but I did not take it, and after a second he slid it over my knee.

“What is it?” I asked.

The god closed a hand over my forearm, lifting my wrist to place my palm upon the box. There was old magic imbued within this box. It danced across my skin the moment it made contact, calling out to me as kindred. All was silent in the room save for the beating of my heart and the rushing of blood in my ears. With trembling fingertips, I pulled back the lid, bile rising thick in my throat.

Nestled within the black silk lay a heart, perfect in its form, pulsing with a soft and imperceptible rhythm. I made some sort of noise, one I thought only daemoni made, before I closed the lid, shaking so violently Horace reached forward to take it from me.

“How did you get this?” My voice was hoarse.

Aelestor ran a hand over his tear-stained face. “Typhon wanted it sent to you so you might feel some sort of…hope.”

Hope . The word curdled in my chest. Aelestor’s bloodshot eyes were fixed on my face as he reached out to grip my gloved hands.

“Typhon knew I would want to return to Josette, and he ordered me to bring the box to you. I am sorry, Oralia, so deeply sorry.”

His shoulders shook with his renewed grief, fingers falling from mine to the floor. I could only stare at him in mute horror. This was a game to Typhon. He had sent me my mate’s heart as a taunt.

My breaths came quicker, magic flaring deep within my chest. Rising to my feet, I took one step away, then another, and another. I could not be here. I could not bear witness to the grief at my feet and comfort this god when I was dying inside. Shadows flared around my shoulders and my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, taking another stumbling step back, only to find myself beneath the wide yew tree Ren and I would travel to so I could learn my power. My throat gurgled as acid sliced through my chest, the shadows around my shoulders thickening until they were as dark as night, as endless as oblivion.

Ren was gone, scattered across the world like leaves in autumn.

He would not resurrect. He would not stride from beneath this tree with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his lips.

I lay my heart in your hands .

My scream echoed off the glittering mountains as if there were hundreds locked within this grief. It was sticky, like tar, devouring me inch by inch until I could not breathe. I clawed at my chest, my hair. My knees cracked against the stones beneath my feet. I was blind within the dark. Icy fire skittered across my arms, threaded through my fingers, churned through my ribs. My power yawned, flooding my senses, and I found I could not find fear.

The darkness nourishes.

The darkness protects.

The darkness wipes the slate clean.

I spread my arms wide and allowed my power to consume me in the hopes that perhaps I would find my mate on the other side.