Page 53 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)

Nyzaia

“ A re you okay?” Soren asked. Nyzaia hunched over, resting her hands on her thighs as she took deep breaths, mirroring Sadira and Larelle’s exhaustion.

They slumped against the large rectangular rock holding up the mirror, identical to the replica in her father’s office.

Nyzaia nodded, pushing the loose strands of hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead as she stood up, wobbling.

Soren shot out her hands to steady her waist. Flinching, Nyzaia cleared her throat.

They had spoken little since Soren had saved her and Farid in the tavern, other than hushed instructions and ensuring her mind was stable.

Nyzaia didn’t particularly have the energy to talk now.

She knew Kazaar and Elisara had merged powers, but did not realise it was possible for others.

A jolt of shock ran through her when she unleashed flames from her hands, colliding with Larelle’s water, and the other with a twisting vine so similar to Soren’s creations in the tavern.

Moments later, the points of connection flared with bright light that crawled back along the lines of power until Nyzaia, Larelle, and Sadira were encompassed in a glow.

Fighting Elisara’s shadows had felt wrong.

Nyzaia recognised they were a part of her now but they appeared to be self-aware, trying to protect her.

The three queens had not even succeeded.

No matter the energy they put into the essence of their merging powers, it had only pulled the shadows apart, but not enough to banish them permanently.

Something in Elisara’s mind brought back her focus and control.

Nyzaia looked up at the hole in the mountain, where the dusky sky turned deep blue, and prayed Kazaar was watching over her and his queen.

He would be heartbroken to see Elisara now, yet proud of her strength.

“You do not look okay,” Soren said, scanning Nyzaia’s body.

“I am fine, Soren,” Nyzaia snapped. Kazaar was still at the forefront of her mind.

The fallen queen did not respond. She tilted her head, watching Nyzaia with a moment of clarity.

Nyzaia was beginning to learn when she was present and when her mind wandered, allowing the dark remnants to scratch and pull at her memories, toying and pushing her in the wrong directions.

Her eyes gave it away—vacant, angry, or fearful.

Now, brightness replaced them. Sadira and Caellum had relayed everything they had found in the deceased Kings of Garridon’s journals, and it immediately resonated with what Nyzaia had witnessed in Soren’s behaviour since Caligh’s departure.

Nyzaia had told them as much yet struggled to interpret Sadira’s emotions.

Had she blinked back tears of relief or frustration, as though she was unsure how to move forward?

Soren looked away from Nyzaia to scan the shadowed soldiers standing to attention around the room.

Some filtered in and out to survey the isle, moving like humans, unlike Caligh’s shadows.

With a closer look, she noticed a silvery tinge to them, perhaps reflecting their souls flowing throughout.

Soren lowered her brow, the brightness dimming in her eyes.

“Hey!” Nyzaia snapped, clicking her fingers in Soren’s face. She should have realised the darkness could trigger those in her mind. Soren spun her head and sneered. “Cut it out,” Nyzaia said in a low, threatening tone.

“Or what?” she spat.

Nyzaia smirked and prowled closer. “Do you want a second round with our fists?” Soren stepped forward until the two women stood toe-to-toe.

“You’ve seen what I can do with a knife. Maybe that would be more fun,” Soren whispered, staring Nyzaia down before peering over the Queen of Keres’s shoulder to where Sadira rose from her slumped position beside Larelle .

“Do you want to talk to her?” Nyzaia asked. “To tell her the truth about the past?” Soren’s eyes met Nyzaia’s.

“Who?”

“Sadira,” said Nyzaia. Soren’s brow furrowed, and the light in her eyes returned, glazed with fear.

“Sadira,” Soren murmured. Her face seemed to relax before she clenched her jaw. “I don’t want to hurt Sadira. Sadira, I—don’t take Sadira.” Nyzaia swore and tugged Soren closer.

“I see you,” Nyzaia said, hoping it pulled her focus back the way it had before. Soren narrowed her eyes on Nyzaia but continued to fidget, rocking on the balls of her feet and tapping her thighs. “Farid, put the chains back on, just in case.”

Soren frantically looked around the room and stumbled towards the staircase, away from the soldiers before Farid clicked the cuffs around her wrists.

“Do you think it will make much difference? We’ve seen she can use her power just fine,” said Farid, descending the staircase with Alvan and Zarya.

Wide-eyed, the young princess struggled to focus, flitting between the shadowed soldiers, Farid’s flamed wings, and the magnificence of the throne room.

“I believe she can only control it properly when her mind is more present—when she is herself,” Nyzaia said.

“When the darkness takes over, it seems to alter her ability, hence the dying plants whenever she wields. It’s like she is poisoned.

” Soren winced at Nyzaia’s words. Perhaps poisoned wasn’t the right term, even if it was true.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Still, Farid kept his wings out as a deterrent. Like Nyzaia, he did not trust the shadowed soldiers. Given how easily he incited fear in them, Nyzaia wondered if Farid was a descendant of a god after all.

“No, I don’t want to overwhelm Elisara. You and Jabir stay out here.”

Jabir grinned at Farid.

“Fantastic,” Farid mumbled .

“Don’t worry. I offered to escort Helena and Vigor to the ship with Vlad, so you won’t have to suffer through my jokes.

” Jabir grinned. They had all been resting for a few hours, allowing Elisara time to heal from Vigor’s work.

Nyzaia had kept Soren as far from everyone as possible, hoping to avoid discussions of her past allegiance with Caligh.

Given Elisara’s quick departure from Keres, she was clueless about Soren’s part in separating her and Kazaar during the battle.

Larelle parted the waterfall Elisara’s protector had shown them, and Nyzaia followed the Queen of Nerida through the narrow walkway, igniting a flame to light their path. Sadira followed closely behind.

A soft glow from the fireplace met the three queens, who were forced to graze against one another as they walked through the room, filled by furniture and the presence of Elisara’s self-appointed protector.

It would have felt claustrophobic if not for the fireplace, although the shadowed soldier leaning on the desk did pull down the warmth of the room.

“Look who’s awake,” Nyzaia chirped, entering the room.

Elisara was propped against a mountain of pillows on the four-poster bed while Caellum poured her a fresh glass of water.

Nyzaia moved towards the stool and sat down, propping her forearms on her knees as she leaned towards her friend.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again, do you understand?

” Nyzaia said, the smile gone from her face.

Her eyes were serious yet glassy as she surveyed the frail queen.

Elisara nodded and gave a small smile. Addressing the shadow, she said, “Sallos, can you leave us?”

“He has a name?” Larelle asked, moving as far from the man as possible to perch on the bed at Elisara’s other side. Nyzaia studied the shadowed man. His rigid posture seemed practiced, like he was used to standing to attention in a room of royals.

“That’s all I know about him,” Elisara said. “And he’s stubborn,” she emphasised as the soldier hesitated at the door before conceding.

“He moves like someone well accustomed to fighting and war,” Sadira said, sitting at the end of the bed. Four queens, reunited.

“He doesn’t look like one,” Elisara said.

“You mean you can see past the shadows?” Caellum asked from his seat at the desk. Elisara shook her head.

“Only when I sleep. When I am sleeping, he appears without the shadows. Apparently, they all do, though I have only seen him. He looks rather… normal.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Nyzaia scoffed. “Most men would be offended by such a remark.” Nyzaia noted Elisara’s arms, furrowing her brow at the raised scars on her skin, images she had seen before.

“They match Kazaar’s,” Elisara murmured, stroking a thumb over the raised vines on her forearm. “Do you know how he inked his?” Nyzaia nodded with an understanding smile.

“Would you like me to ink yours?”

Elisara smiled. “I think it would be nice to have a permanent reminder of him, even if he is always here,” she replied, resting a hand on her heart.

“Caellum,” Nyzaia called, feeling odd at the civility in her tone. “Could you see if Vigor left any needles in his healing bag?” Caellum nodded and left the four queens together as Nyzaia rose to retrieve a pot of ink from the desk.

Sadira frowned. “Should you be leaning on your back like that?”

“Vigor wrapped it and said I should be okay for now, as long as I rest.” Elisara smiled at the princess’s hands. Sadira shifted, clasping one hand over the other.

“We have a lot to discuss.” Larelle leaned beside Elisara and hummed, keeping her eyes on Sadira. “You noticed as well, then?”

“Noticed what?” Nyzaia asked, sitting back on the stool.

“I saw it on Caellum’s finger.” Elisara smiled at Sadira. “Congratulations.”

Nyzaia glanced between the women. “Am I missing something?” As Sadira blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the glinting gold band captured Nyzaia’s attention. “Wow, I’m losing my touch!”

Larelle chuckled. “Does that mean we would make better assassins than you?”

“Absolutely not,” Nyzaia scoffed. “You and Sadira could perhaps be Alchemists as you’re both smart enough—or Courtesans. Plenty of men and women would hand information over to you.” Nyzaia smirked when the two women blushed. “Elisara would perhaps make it in the Blades.”

“You know damn well I would,” Elisara exclaimed, though her smile faltered.

“Where was the wedding?” Larelle asked. Sadira glanced at Elisara, but her face was welcoming.

“We married on a field of irises at the edge of Albyn. It was just us, Sir Cain, and Taryn.”

“Did Sir Cain cry? I always thought he was rather a sentimental man,” said Elisara, earning a laugh from Sadira.

“He did. Taryn and Caellum did too. Come to think of it, I was the only one who didn’t.”

Larelle laughed.

“What was your dress like?” asked Elisara.

“Oh gods! Are we really going to sit and talk about dresses?” groaned Nyzaia. Elisara elbowed her friend.

“Just because you don’t favour them doesn’t mean you cannot appreciate them.”

“I would rather sit and listen to how good the sex was afterward than talk about dresses.”

“Nyzaia!” Larelle chastised.

“What! Does that not make my feelings on dresses clear enough?” Nyzaia rolled her eyes, and Sadira stifled a laugh, forcing Nyzaia to smile.

She looked at each of the three women in turn: a tired Elisara in a fresh white shirt, Larelle in her regal navy gown, her head held high even when relaxed, and Sadira in pink florals, highlighting the kindness in her face.

And there Nyzaia sat in her leathers. Four queens, acting as though they were just friends at a tavern.

“Do you remember when we were getting ready for the welcome ball at my palace?” Nyzaia asked.

“That seems like an age ago now.” Elisara glanced at the cup of water in her hands, her smile gone.

“We were talking and laughing while getting ready.” Nyzaia smiled and squeezed Elisara’s hand, knowing she thought of that night with Kazaar. “We wondered if we would ever get to sit together like that again.”

“I remember,” Larelle nodded. “I said we would. I knew we would have a day in the future where we would sit like this, laughing or crying. We would be together.” Larelle reached for Sadira and Elisara’s hands and squeezed them both.

The three queens stared at Nyzaia, who rolled her eyes before joining hands with them, a calm energy flowing between them all.

Nyzaia looked at the three queens, her heart warming.

Despite her worries and Tajana’s absence, she felt safe with these women and realised then that they were her friends, not her fellow rulers.

“And there will be another day, another moment like this.” Nyzaia smiled, hope filling her veins. “In the future.”