Page 70 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)

Larelle

T he tension floating in the temple's air was rife with unspoken questions and words as Larelle glanced between Nyzaia and Sadira. The Queen of Garridon’s expression hardened, her eyes growing dark.

Why would Nyzaia claim Soren as a citizen of her realm?

Though perhaps it was better she was monitored, instead of being left to roam aimlessly around Novisia.

Sadira and Caellum had explained the journals they found, and the state of his father and grandfather’s minds, yet Larelle was still sceptical as she watched Soren now.

Garridon said it would worsen before it got better, seemingly referencing the dark corners in her mind—but was she truly sane?

Even if the remnants of Caligh’s power had vanished, Soren had endless trauma to resolve.

“I accept,” Sadira finally said, her words clipped. Nyzaia nodded.

“Wait outside with Jabir,” Nyzaia commanded Soren. “Explain everything to him.” Soren bowed to the Queen of Keres before turning and leaving the room, wiping her sleeve across her face.

“Sir Cain, are you able to explain more—” Sadira was cut off as the ground shook again, but it was far more violent, prompting screams from the people outside.

Zarya cried into her mother’s shoulder, who held tightly to her daughter.

The four cracked pieces of the stone table began to separate, and Alvan was quick to tug Larelle’s hand, pulling her away before the pieces fell as they once had when crushing the rulers’ families.

“Shit,” Nyzaia murmured as the stones fell inward. The ground in the temple’s centre sank away into darkness .

“Out!” Sir Cain commanded, lifting Caellum’s limp body over his shoulder, and guiding his queen forward. “I’ve got him! Go!”

Before Larelle waited to ensure everyone followed, Alvan dragged her from the temple while Zarya screamed.

Like on the Isle of Gods, Larelle heard falling rubble, but she did not know when it landed or if it continued falling inward.

She glanced one last time at the ancient mirror, not only trapping Farid but Olden’s body too.

She could not give him a proper farewell. He was gone.

Dust filled the square as they ran from the temple.

In the square, the Neridian guards ran forward as the crowds fled, likely recalling the day of the explosion.

Her guards stepped around Larelle to form a line as they backed up and away from the temple.

Larelle’s eyes counted every individual running from the temple—everyone was out.

Everyone was safe. Yet as the temple ruins collapsed, Larelle wondered how long that would last. The place that had started it all now crumbled, falling into the ground.

As a pit of darkness yawned open to swallow the temple, they backed away, terrified.

The kingdom will fall. Find your reflection in the ancient and say goodbye.

The gods had known. They had known using Elisara’s power to break the tie between Novisia and the Isle of Gods would destroy their kingdom.

Listen to the land and understand you are bound— and now, they were no longer connected.

The Isle of Gods existed first, created for a reason they were yet to discover, but without the link, there was nothing keeping their kingdom bound with this existence.

The shaking stopped as the dark chasm finished consuming everything in its path, including the entire temple and half the square.

Larelle’s eyes widened in realisation, and she gasped, pressing her fingertips to her mouth.

Sir Cain had said the ground shook daily.

Every day, the ground would shake and wreak havoc, taking more of the kingdom with it.

Every day, until nothing remained of Novisia.

The gods had sentenced their people to death.

“We need to evacuate the city,” Larelle informed her guards as the other rulers edged around the square toward her, as if one wrong step would trigger the chasm to open further.

The guards turned to relay the information to the others but paused when they saw Garridon’s guards kneeling, their fists on their chests.

Sir Cain shifted Caellum from his shoulder to lay him gently on the ground.

Sadira bowed her head to her guards, murmuring something Larelle could not hear.

“We don’t have time,” Alvan told the Neridian guards, who hurried off to knock on doors.

“My guards are sending word to the military to help with the evacuation,” Sadira said, her voice devoid of emotion as she bravely put aside her grief to be queen.

“What are we going to do?” Elisara asked, leaning against Vlad. “If this happens every day, we will end up restricted at the edges of the realms.”

“Even in Nerida, we would not have enough boats for everyone, and where would we even go?” Larelle asked.

Zarya sniffed and lifted her head off her mother’s shoulder, wiping her eyes.

Larelle was unsure if her tears were from exhaustion or sadness about Olden—perhaps both.

Larelle brushed back her hair with her hand.

“Ossie said you would need to get a message to him,” Zarya sniffed. Larelle watched her for a moment, trying to understand. How would he be able to help them?

“He’s a prince,” Larelle mumbled before raising her voice and looking at the others. “He is a prince! He is now free of Caligh’s control. He must have plenty of ships to help sail our people off Novisia.”

“Perhaps he is the Prince of Xyliar,” Nyzaia suggested, crossing her arms. “The gods mentioned the Prince of Xyliar must follow his path correctly to help break the curse on other lands once the link between Novisia and the Isle of Gods was broken.” Larelle frowned.

Maybe the gods had not sentenced their people to death, but freedom.

“Is there a way to contact him?” Elisara asked, glancing at the Princess of Nerida .

“He said Zarya would find him when we were ready,” Larelle murmured, thinking of the copper floral pin in the vanity of her chambers. Alvan wrapped an arm around them as everyone looked at the five-year-old in her arms. The Princess of Nerida was the only one who could save their people.

***

The ocean waves lapped against the walls of Mera castle.

The salt breeze was one of the few things managing to calm Larelle as she gripped the terrace wall, staring up at the moon.

It was different. She wondered if it had changed every night since her absence, or if there was something significant about tonight.

The moon hovered over the ocean’s horizon, five times larger than usual, with a red-tinged glow.

The same glow lit the ocean, and suddenly, Larelle was reminded of all the blood spilled in battle and the lives that continued to be taken as the kingdom fell.

Now would be the perfect time for Caligh to strike while their kingdom crumbled.

Their focus now was moving people towards the coasts.

A part of her was glad Olden was at peace and had not experienced this fear.

She closed her eyes. Was that selfish of her?

He had seemed prepared, as though Nerida had shown him what he needed to pass on.

“She’s asleep,” Alvan whispered. The glass doors to the terrace clicked shut as he strode up behind Larelle and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’ll catch a chill if you aren’t careful,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder.

Her curls were still damp from bathing, and the silk of her navy robe was the only thing shielding her body.

She was not exactly designed to keep someone warm.

She slid her hands over his arms, pulling him tighter.

“I’m warm now,” she whispered. He rested his chin on her head, staring up at the red moon with her.

“What are you thinking about? ”

“That there may come a day where I do not see tomorrow,” she whispered. “That Zarya may not find Osiris, and nobody will save us.”

“If that happens, we will take as many people as we can and leave.” It was a rational option, but one she could not follow.

She would not abandon her people. A week had passed since leaving the Neutral City, which was now on the brink of extinction as the dark crater claimed more of the kingdom each day.

How could she decide between those who would sail to new lands and those doomed to perish?

“Whatever happens, I will be by your side, your sanctuary.” Alvan moved Larelle’s hair aside to kiss her shoulder.

Perhaps Alvan is your destiny, Nerida had said.

As they faced the unknown, Larelle knew she wanted no one else by her side.

She wanted that sanctuary, someone who was her home after difficult days.

Larelle tilted her head, displaying her neck for Alvan’s lips, a silent command she wanted more—wanted him.

Alvan’s arms unwrapped from around her to grip her hips instead.

She sighed when his lips continued along her neck, his teeth ever so gently grazing her skin.

“My queen,” Alvan breathed, roaming his hand over the silk of her robe; one travelled to her chest and the other down her hip.

“My goddess,” he said between kisses. Larelle closed her eyes, a shiver running up her spine when his hand grazed her nipple.

“My Larelle,” he whispered. His fingers moved under the lace of her robe, brushing her heart.

Larelle gripped the wall of the terrace and pushed back, rubbing against him, knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Alvan groaned and gripped Larelle’s hips, holding her still as he rested his forehead on her shoulder, as though uncertain if she wished to continue.

“Please,” Larelle whispered, and Alvan’s head lifted.

“Be my sanctuary.” Alvan’s hands were quick and demanding as he spun Larelle and gripped her face, pressing his lips to hers with hunger.

Larelle met him at the same pace, starving as she parted her lips and allowed him to take control.

Alvan’s scent of ocean-drowned trees enveloped Larelle as she pulled back to find the buttons on his shirt.

When his lips claimed hers again, Larelle’s fingers were hurried and certain as she worked her way through the buttons before pushing the fabric over his shoulders to run her hands over his muscles.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you,” Alvan murmured, pulling away from her lips to kiss a trail down her neck until reaching her chest. Her robe slipped off her shoulders, allowing him to graze his teeth over her nipple before slowly lowering to his knees.

“Do you remember what I told you on the steps of the Tabheri Palace?” he murmured, planting delicate kisses on her thighs. Larelle tried to gather her thoughts to focus on his question.

“That you would worship me,” she whispered, sucking in a breath as his hand slid between her thighs.

“I meant every word,” he whispered. His fingers began lazy circles, inching closer and closer, testing her patience.

Larelle swallowed back a moan as her hands gripped his shoulders.

“The people think they worship you, their queen and saviour from the destruction to come.” Alvan’s chest rose and fell quickly as he watched his queen’s face the moment his fingers finally gave her what she wanted.

“What would they say, Larelle, if they knew I was the only one truly worshipping you?” Larelle opened her mouth to speak, but words escaped her as Alvan rose from his knees before she found release.

Eyes flashing open to meet his, she placed a finger under his chin.

“I want you,” she breathed. “All of you.” Larelle reached for the band of his trousers and quickly unhooked them.

His breathing was sharp as he moved closer, resting his head on Larelle’s shoulder, who slowly moved her hand up and down.

Her silk robe fell completely from her shoulders as Alvan gripped her waist and lifted her onto the low terrace wall, baring her back to the ocean.

Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths under Alvan’s gaze as he opened her legs, the silk falling on either side of them.

Pulling her to the edge of the cold stone, he moved his fingers between her legs, and her head lulled back.

Despite how good it felt, she gripped his hand.

“All of you,” she said, splaying her palms on the stone wall to keep upright.

“Are you granting the prayers of my worship?” Alvan asked, devouring her with his eyes. Larelle smiled shyly and nodded.

Alvan did not delay. He obeyed his queen as his hands gripped her hips to hold her steady at the edge of the stone as he pushed into her. He silenced Larelle’s cry with a kiss and held her still while she adjusted. Six years. Six years, and she finally felt at home again.

“My queen. My goddess. My Larelle.” Alvan kissed her gently before slowly moving.

“Alvan,” Larelle moaned. Her arms trembled as she held herself upright. He quickened his pace.

“Say my name again,” he murmured, digging his fingers into her hips. Larelle’s arms gave out, but Alvan clung to the back of Larelle’s knees, repositioning her thigh to angle deeper. She arched her back further and leant into his other hand to keep from falling.

“Alvan,” she groaned. Larelle relaxed back, her hair dangling over the edge of the wall. Beneath the red moon, as the waves crashed below them, salt-spray splashing their skin, Larelle melted into her sanctuary.