Page 73 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)

Larelle

T he fragrance of the clematis plant from the terrace drifted through the open glass doors, where a bird chirped above it. Slowly, Larelle opened her eyes to the morning sun. A weight pressed against her waist, and she glanced down at Alvan’s hand splayed across her bare stomach, holding her close.

“Good morning,” he murmured, burying his head in her hair.

“Morning,” Larelle whispered, so he could fall back to sleep.

A grin marked her face when she thought of last night.

Before she reached for the discarded silk robe on the floor beside her bed, she covered her mouth as a laugh escaped.

This was how it felt to be falling in love—giddy, childlike, and floating on air. Complete surrender.

“Where are you going?” Alvan groaned as she slowly lifted his hand from her stomach and slid from the bed. He rubbed her back while she sat on the edge of the bed before pulling her into his arms.

“I have to meet with the lords to discuss the plans for the Amoro evacuation.”

“I should be there,” Alvan sighed, shifting behind her. Larelle turned to plant a hand on his chest, her robe lowering further as she rose to kiss his lips.

“I’m sure I can let you off. I am the queen, after all,” she whispered.

Alvan’s hand brushed her back until he wove his fingers into her hair, holding her close and kissing her harder.

He groaned at her absence as she pulled away and padded over to the mirror on her vanity.

Alvan shuffled up against the headboard, rustling the sheets.

He watched as she sat down at the vanity and pulled the robe over her shoulder where it had slipped.

Larelle’s hands paused as she stared at a mark on her chest. Frowning, she traced her fingers over the scar—a symbol she did not recognise.

It was like the one on Nyzaia’s palm. It held a different series of shapes, more circular than triangular.

Larelle’s eyes widened, and she turned to look at Alvan.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Larelle stared at his bare chest, which was absent of a scar. No sign of a celestial tie existed between them. Larelle fastened her robe.

“Nothing.” She smiled. “When you’re ready, would you mind checking on Zarya?

She’ll probably be asleep for at least another few hours.

This is rather early for her.” Alvan nodded and slid back into the sheets.

Larelle felt sick to her stomach with the weight of the unknown.

She ran a hand under her robe again, over the small mark covering her heart.

It didn’t make sense. The passage Nyzaia read on celestial ties detailed it was anointed when two beings finally acknowledged their connection and allowed their essences to merge.

Larelle acknowledged her connection with Alvan, but he had no power, no essence for it to derive from.

He had no mark, either. What do celestial ties really signify?

Larelle opened the drawer of her vanity to pull out hair clips.

Her eyes caught on the copper floral pin Osiris gave her when he handed it over with the promise Zarya would know how to contact him.

Perhaps the princess should wear it while trying.

Larelle turned it over in her fingers, staring back at her reflection and the scar on her chest. She thought celestial ties were formed when two people shared a destiny.

Perhaps Alvan is your destiny, Nerida had said .

But if Larelle was not tied to Alvan, who was she tied to?

***

She is the prophesied of Th-- Larelle read the neatly inked calligraphy again.

My observations make it clear she is the child that will one day cause the return of– Larelle slammed the book shut.

Larelle had been trying to read the book Alvan had taken from Vivian for at least an hour but the combination of incredibly slanted calligraphy and the variations between Larelle’s language and another made for an infuriating task.

The first few pages she deciphered read like a children’s story about great beasts and saviours.

Larelle could not place its importance, aside from the occasional scribble of Zarya’s name in the margins.

How did Vivian know another language? Was she perhaps someone who hailed from another land too?

It only seemed to prove Nyzaia’s theory that Ithyion never existed.

“Mumma!” Zarya’s call interrupted her reading.

Larelle could tell by the strain in Zarya’s voice that something had happened, but she relaxed at the accompanying footsteps.

Alvan was with her. A moment later, Zarya bound round the corner of the open door, her eyes aglow.

Osiris’ copper pin on her dress caught the light.

Thank Nerida the lords had left five minutes before, Larelle thought.

She not yet explained Zarya’s ability to them.

Zarya’s grin told Larelle she had good news. The queen remained patient as Zarya hugged her and pulled back, bouncing on her feet.

“What is it, Zarya?” Larelle asked, holding her daughter's hands to keep her still. She buzzed with energy until the glow in her eyes slowly faded.

“Ossie is coming!” She giggled, attempting to pull her hands free to clap them. Larelle looked over her head at Alvan’s wary expression; they needed more information.

“When, Zarya? I need you to tell me what happened when he spoke to you. It’s important, sweetheart.” Zarya stopped bouncing and twirled a curl in her hair.

“I was in a different place than last time! It was so much prettier, mumma! All the buildings were white and sparkly, and there were purple banners everywhere—you know I love purple!”

“You do! It’s your favourite colour,” Larelle exaggerated, trying to match her daughter’s enthusiasm. Zarya grinned.

“I could hear the sea, so I walked down all these pretty white streets until I found sand, which was nearly as white as the buildings! But no one was there.”

“Except Osiris?” Larelle asked. Zarya nodded, playing with the bracelet on her wrist.

“I was sitting on the sand collecting new shells for my bracelet when he came and sat beside me. He said he was coming to rescue us, but he needed time to secure the boats.” Larelle frowned at Alvan. They did not have time.

“Did he say how much time, Zarya?”

“The next full moon.” She beamed. Larelle remembered the large red moon last night. A month. They had to wait one month. “Do you think he’ll like me in person?”

“Of course he will! Who wouldn’t like you? Did he say anything else?”

“Mhmm, not really! Just that he was going to bring his friends and save us.”

“Do you believe him?” Larelle asked. Zarya tilted her head, and her eyes glowed again when she nodded.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “He’s going to bring four hundred ships! I can’t even count that high!” Larelle held her still again as she resumed her jumping.

“Did Osiris tell you that, Zarya? Or did you see it?”

“I saw it! Four hundred ships approaching Nerida.” Zarya tapped a finger to the side of her head.

Sighing, Larelle bowed her head. If she saw it, then it was likely true.

In one month, Osiris, the Prince of Xyliar, would arrive on their shores to save their kingdom, so they could work to find and defeat Caligh together, wherever he was hiding.

“You’ve done so well, sweetheart,” Larelle said, pulling her into a hug.

She rested her chin on her daughter’s head, squeezing her tight as she stroked a hand over her curls.

Larelle frowned and wound her finger around a curl.

A white curl, no wider than a child’s thumbnail.

The queen frowned, would there be consequences to her daughter’s abilities?

“He also said he hopes your heart is happy,” Zarya whispered. Larelle let go of her and frowned at her daughter’s smile. Her heart? Zarya tapped a small finger on her mother’s chest, exactly where the raised scar of a celestial tie had been.

“What is it?” Alvan asked, sensing the shift in Larelle’s mood.

“Someone just wants focaccia for lunch.” Larelle smiled.

“I can take her to see Lillian and have that arranged.” Alvan offered Zarya his hand, but she ignored it and sprinted past him.

“You have to catch me first!” she laughed.

Alvan chuckled. “I guess this is my daily exercise. He planted a kiss on Larelle’s cheek and left the room.

She drifted her hand over her heart. How does Osiris know?

Flustered, Larelle ignored Vivian’s book and resumed her previous task, attempting to display the maps on the wall for a better view.

They had not yet read through any of the other books from the church; she had been too focused on planning evacuations and updating the lords and representatives upon her return.

She had been determined to start today but now needed to urgently write to the other rulers, ensuring they were in Nerida in one month’s time to greet Osiris.

Perhaps it would be best if they started moving all the people to the coast of the realms now; a month may be cutting it fine.

There might be no land left. She would allow the rulers to stay here in Mera, so they were together when Osiris arrived.

“Ouch,” Larelle mumbled as she pricked her thumb with the final nail, trying to position it on the wall. It was a far more arduous task than she expected, seeing as the maps were longer and wider than her body. Mostly, the lands were central, surrounded by the ocean.

“That’s much easier to see,” Alvan said, re-entering.

Larelle stepped back, examining the six maps on the wall.

She had left the two of Novisia on the table, already understanding them to be the Isle of Gods and Novisia as she knew it.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. Larelle gulped, afraid to look him in the eye in case she gave away what she was hiding.

“No. I have no idea what to look for. Maybe having the other queens here as fresh sets of eyes will help.” Larelle sighed. It felt odd knowing they were now all queens, with Novisia’s only king dead.

“Is everything okay? After last night?” Alvan asked. Larelle avoided looking at him, but her feelings were clear. Alvan tilted her chin up to look at him. “If I’ve done something wrong…”

“No, no, you haven’t,” Larelle insisted, placing her hands on his chest. Alvan’s frown deepened.

“Then, what is it?” he asked, scanning her eyes.

Larelle met his gaze. She could not build a sanctuary with him upon lies.

With trembling hands, she pushed aside the fabric of her dress to reveal the scar over her heart.

Alvan traced it with his thumb. “When did you get it?” No fear or worry laced his voice; his eyes were merely curious.

“I woke up with it, and–”

“And what?”

“Osiris knew about it when he spoke with Zarya.” Alvan tensed for a moment before nodding slowly in understanding.

“You could be tied to Osiris,” Alvan murmured, inspecting the mark.

“It simply means you share a destiny. It makes sense, doesn’t it?

Given he is to arrive on the shores of your realm?

” Alvan asked with a reassuring smile. Larelle nodded, trying to convince herself the same, but something nagged at her within—something wrong.

Alvan’s embrace enveloped her with comfort as she tried to forget about it.

“Remember not to keep it all to yourself,” he murmured, stroking her back.

Outside, the waves crashed against the wall as she took a moment to breathe.

“Two of the maps line up,” Alvan said, moving away from Larelle to run a finger along the edges. Larelle read the names on the maps. Xyliar and Carvyre. Alvan was right. Where the map edges met, the curves showing the waves in the water matched. The lands were beside one another.

“Perhaps some others match up too?” Alvan suggested.

They were quick to pull the pins from the other four maps, turning them in different directions and repositioning them on the wall.

Finally, Thassena sat in the top left corner and matched with another map on its right, separated by the ocean.

Alvan turned another and slotted it beneath Thassena, above Xyliar.

The final map sat above Carvyre. Alvan reached for Larelle’s hand as they stepped back to assess the maps filling the entire wall.

Six pieces of land, yet only two connected: the two places above Carvyre. The rest were surrounded by the ocean.

“All the other kingdoms,” Larelle breathed.

“Then where does Novisia fit?” Alvan asked.

The map was less delicate than the others as Larelle picked up Novisia’s map and placed it against the wall.

It fit perfectly in the centre of all six lands, surrounded by enough water that the outer border were still miles and miles from any of the other six kingdoms. It was perfectly centred in the middle.

“How did we never know?” Alvan asked. “How?”

“The curse hid memories,” Larelle breathed.

“But if this is Novisia, and there are six other kingdoms, where is Ithyion?” Alvan asked. Larelle placed a pin in the final corner of Novisia and backed away again.

“What if Ithyion never existed?” Larelle whispered. “We can’t trust anything Caligh ever said to us or our ancestors.”

Eyes wide, Alvan rubbed his face and took it all in. “Or what if this is Ithyion, and the entire kingdom never truly fell?”