Page 49 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)
Larelle
S tanding at the ship’s bow, the ocean spray coated Larelle’s hair as she gracefully swayed her hand to hurry the ships through the waters.
Larelle had left at first light, along with Alvan, Zarya, Olden, and Lillian.
While Zarya had slept peacefully in an armchair amongst the books at the church, Alvan had kept watch of the shadowed soldiers in the pews and insisted Larelle should sleep too.
While she had occasionally dosed on and off at the table, leaning her head in her hands, her mind was still distracted as Vivian scribbled away in her book.
The soldiers had not attempted the door leading to their hiding place.
In fact, they did not stay long in the church at all.
Though Larelle soon realised, from the distant screams throughout the night, that the shadows had encountered some of her people.
Far fewer citizens graced the streets when they left Mera that morning.
Larelle looked right, noticing a blonde head of hair on the neighbouring ship.
Sadira stood with her arm around Caellum, who bowed his head over the side.
Clearly, he was not one for boats. The green sails of Garridon’s ship billowed with the wind as Larelle urged the ocean under them.
She had spotted their approach not long after leaving The Bay.
Larelle hoped her letter had reached Nyzaia and she, too, was headed for the Unsanctioned Isle.
Larelle smiled when Alvan wrapped an arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You seem very at ease up here,” he said, and Larelle sighed, leaning into him as she continued motioning with her hands.
“I rarely use my powers on a daily basis.” Larelle tried to recall the last time she had done so outside of the battlefield, but her only recollection was the meeting with her lords, where she forced a man to choke on water.
He appeared to have forgotten it, though, when Larelle gathered with the lords again before leaving for the church.
If he—or anyone—tried to question her crown again, she would have no qualms about reminding them of her power.
“You should practise something every day,” Alvan said.
“While you need little practice, given the extent of your power, it might be a good habit to form, especially as you enjoy it so much.” Larelle hummed in agreement as they banked the final corner of Vala’s borders to where the Unsanctioned Isle appeared in the distance, appearing as a blur of red trees this far away.
Larelle squinted at what appeared to be the sails of a Keres boat, but they were too far to be certain.
“I’m going to check on Olden,” Larelle said, kissing Alvan gently before walking to the other end of the ship, intending to spend some time with him now they had reunited after the day at the church.
His tiredness worried her. She wanted to ensure there was nothing else wrong in case they required a healer, but when Larelle reached the end of the ship, she found Olden asleep on a wooden bench with a blanket draped over his legs.
The wind whipped at his grey hair, and a small smile graced his lips as he slept atop the waves.
Larelle stooped and kissed his forehead before sitting beside him in silence, savouring the moment of peace before their journey continued.
***
It did not take much longer for the boats to sail closer to the shores of the Unsanctioned Isle and for Larelle to confirm the ship ahead was indeed from Keres and hurry it along.
Wielding the waves, Larelle guided the three ships along the sandbank, alongside one that bore Vala’s vigil.
Vlad already stood on the shore, waiting for them to disembark.
“Vlad, it’s good to see you,” greeted Alvan, gripping the commander’s arm.
Vlad smiled and bowed as Larelle approached.
His blonde hair had grown so much it nearly reached his shoulders; his beard was much fuller compared to their last encounter, and the circles beneath his eyes darker.
Etchings of a constant frown appeared on his brow.
The new commander was evidently exhausted in his queen’s absence.
“How are things in Vala?” Larelle asked as Alvan gently lowered her from the ship’s ladder onto the sparkling black sands, a reminder of the night sky. Vlad’s smile wavered at the question.
“With Eli gone, the lords are trying to force their hands to rule. I’m trying to hold them off, but I’m outnumbered if she doesn’t return soon or at least contact them.”
“And the shadows?” asked Alvan. “Have you had any of her soldiers arrive on your shores?” Vlad nodded grimly, just as Sadira and Caellum reached them.
“There was one instance where they tore apart a tavern—just the same as a few drunkards might—but enough to show they didn’t intend to be pleasant guests in the city.
” Sadira wore a worried frown as she listened, gripping Caellum’s hand while holding her pink gown in the other as the strong winds threatened to uproot her skirts.
“They were worse in Tabheri,” Nyzaia said, donning black leathers.
She had added a few extras to her attire: a red sash secured with a gold pin and her crown.
Farid and Jabir dropped from the ship and approached, with Soren sandwiched between them.
Larelle widened her eyes and glanced at Sadira and Caellum.
Sadira’s eyes watered as she made to move forward but seemed to think better of it, clenching her jaw.
Caellum’s attention was fixed on Soren’s movements and unchained hands.
She was not being treated like a prisoner.
Although Larelle would have kept a prisoner under closer guard, it was not her place to decide another ruler’s actions, though she worried about what Elisara might do if she saw Soren walking so freely.
“It’s why Soren is here. They heightened the…
temperamental state of her mind. I couldn’t risk leaving her in Tabheri. ”
Soren glanced away from the group. What must have occurred for Nyzaia to have beaten the fallen queen to the brink of death to where she now walked freely, unchained, while suggesting there was something wrong with her mind?
The fallen queen's clothes were loose around her figure, and Larelle easily recognised the signs of malnourishment visible in the hollows of her cheeks and eyes. There was no scowl on Soren’s face.
She simply glanced between everyone and the dark, sandy floor.
Still, Sadira and Caellum did not speak.
“Is there anything else we should all know before we look for Elisara?” Larelle asked.
“I’ll scout ahead,” Vlad said, motioning for all the guards from each realm to follow. Farid and Jabir stayed on either side of Soren, who continued staring at Nyzaia.
“I found people whose memories had resurfaced since our crowning,” Nyzaia said.
“So did we,” said Sadira. Larelle and Alvan exchanged a look and nodded, recalling Father Zoro.
“There’s a cult operating in Keres; they worship other gods and act as though they may not be from Ithyion,” Nyzaia explained, holding the pommel of her sword at her waist.
“Were they all old enough to have hailed from Ithyion?” Larelle asked, and Nyzaia nodded.
“They were old enough to have travelled from Ithyion and remember it, but what if they weren’t from Ithyion at all?
They mentioned a deity, not our god, Keres.
What if our realm comprises of people from many places, but we’ve just been fed some made-up story about our homeland?
” The other rulers frowned. Ithyion’s history seemed so certain.
No logical reason seemed to exist as to why a made-up kingdom would hide those hailing from different lands.
“We cannot trust anything the Historian ever told us or our families.”
“But my grandmother was still alive, and she remembered Ithyion,” Sadira explained.
“How are we to know her memories weren’t altered too when she arrived in Novisia? Or the memories of the two Wiccans as well?” Nyzaia pushed. Larelle considered it.
“We saw a priest,” said Larelle. “I can’t be certain if he was remembering things, as he was far from sane, but everything he said was linked to Osiris’s words.
He spoke of curses and wore a clear symbol of Garridon, a realm that existed on Ithyion.
” Alvan pulled the priest’s amulet from his pocket and handed it to Caellum and Sadira, who shared a look.
“These symbols reside on three pins in my father’s belongings,” Caellum said, tracing a thumb over the images on the back of the gold emblem.
“It still proves nothing about Ithyion,” Nyzaia pushed. “I stand by what I said. Ithyion might have never existed. All our ancestors could have hailed from completely different lands, perhaps four separate lands.”
“But why?” Larelle asked. “What reason would there be to lie about where we came from or why they settled here in Novisia?” Nobody had an answer. The rulers all looked at one another as the wind whipped around them.
“We should head into the trees to find shelter from the wind before making our way in land,” Larelle suggested. “We can continue talking on route.”
“Mumma!” shouted a small voice from Nerida’s ship. “I need to come with you,” Zarya called as Lillian tried to tug her back. Larelle frowned at her daughter's wild eyes and frantic jumping. “I need to come with you!” Zarya emphasised.
“You don’t think she’d start using what Osiris said as an excuse to stay close, do you?” Alvan asked. At the mention of Osiris, all eyes fell on the pair.
“I don’t think so,” Larelle murmured, waving at Lillian to bring Zarya down.
“When did Osiris speak with her?” Nyzaia asked.
“It’s a long story,” Larelle sighed. “I’ll tell you on the way.”