Page 75 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)

Sadira

U nclenching and clenching her hand, Sadira slowed the growth of the flower in her palm in time with her breathing.

The sea breeze blew through the white iris before she hid it away again.

Her body was restless, and she had given up on sleep hours ago, resorting to sitting out on the terrace of her chambers in Nerida.

There were a number of reasons she was resistant to sleep; she was sick with anticipation, wondering whether Osiris would indeed land on the shores tomorrow, nauseous from the children growing in her womb, and suffocated from nature’s absence replaced with brick and ocean.

Backing onto the beach, the castle of Mera had no gardens and so the iris in the queen’s palm would have to suffice.

Sadira looked to the left of her terrace, to where she could see her realm in the distance beneath the moonlight.

Larelle had been sweet to offer her chambers in this direction, but Sadira’s heart ached at the thought of her husband, left alone in a crumbling kingdom.

Her hand crept to the chain around her neck to turn Caellum’s wedding ring round and round. She still wore hers.

“I miss you,” she whispered to the sky. A breeze brushed her skin in response at the same moment the sound of birds chirped somewhere above.

Sighing, Sadira reached for the steaming cup on the nearest table.

She glanced at the box beside it and lifted the cup to her lips, relishing the sweet floral taste.

It reminded her of the tea Arabella had offered in her small home in Albyn.

At the thought of the Wiccan, Sadira lifted the lid of the box.

It was filled with sentimental items, things she could not bear to leave behind.

The family tree Caellum had found in his father’s study, a small rattle from Edlen and Eve’s old nursery, embroidery from Aurelia’s collection, a necklace from the late queen, and a dagger from the one of the prince’s belongings.

The jacket Caellum wore on their wedding day sat beneath it all with the strips they had tied around their hands—it still smelt like him.

She rummaged beneath it for the smaller trinket box hidden away.

Setting down her tea, Sadira unlocked the clasp.

Four pins now sat within. The wolf head, the Wiccan symbol, and the other unknown were all a dull metal.

The fourth stood out beside it. It was a golden pin of the Garridon sigil etched with a raised hawk.

Sadira held it up to the moonlight and grazed her thumb over the ridges of its wings and the small emerald in its eye.

Sadira thought of the redheaded Wiccan who forced it into her hand.

A promise that I will be by your side one day.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, knocking over the teacup and spilling the loose leaves across the table.

Sadira cursed and moved her robes to keep from getting wet in the tea’s puddle spilling onto the stone floor.

“I wondered when you might finally look at the pin again,” a soft voice whispered. Sadira lunged for the dagger in the box and rose from her seat, spinning towards the voice in the darkness of her rooms.

“Show yourself,” Sadira commanded, taking a cautious step back on the terrace.

“I mean no harm, I only answer your call,” the female said, stepping through the open glass doors and onto the moonlit terrace.

“Arabella,” Sadira said. The queen kept the dagger in front of her. The woman raised her hands.

“I am sworn to protect you, your Majesty. I mean you and your babes no harm.” Sadira’s hand wavered.

Nobody knew about the babies. Nobody except Sir Cain and Athena.

Sadira had not even told Elisara yet. Sadira pointed the dagger towards the bench, gesturing for Arabella to sit.

She stepped towards it but stayed standing .

“It would be improper to sit while my queen remains standing,” she said.

Arabella lowered her hands and clasped them in front of her woollen cloak, hiding her clothing, but also any concealed weapons.

“You can call for the captain of your guard, if you wish. I will not be offended if you desire his presence.” Sadira lowered her hand at the offer but did not call Taryn from where he stood outside her door.

“Please,” Arabella said, gesturing to the chair that was a safe distance from the bench.

Sadira lowered slowly, tightening her hold on the dagger.

Only when Sadira was sat and facing Arabella did the woman finally sit too.

“Tell me where you entered, so I can prevent others from trying the same,” Sadira said, her voice was level and commanding. The voice of a queen. Arabella watched the queen, her blue eyes sparkling as though excited.

“I did not enter by conventional means,” Arabella said.

“If this is going to be a repeat of veiled information, I have no interest.” Sadira glared, dimming the brightness in Arabella’s eyes.

“I have been granted to speak freely, your Majesty.” Granted.

Sadira was the queen, so who above her could grant Arabella permission to talk?

Sadira recalled the conversation in the small cottage.

Darragh’s warnings. He said she could not tell Sadira and Caellum too much as their deity prevented it.

“You have spoken with your deity,” Sadira said, raising her chin.

Arabella nodded. “How lucky I am, that now, after I have lost my husband on the hunt for further information, that your deity deems it acceptable to offer answers through you.” Sadira glared, abandoning all attempts at maintaining the neutral and civil face of a queen.

“Your Majesty—”

“Speak,” Sadira snapped. Neither woman said anything. Arabella had the decency to glance down at the frustration on Sadira’s face. The queen did not apologise for her harsh tone. She merely waited.

“What do you wish to know first?” Arabella asked, despite the fact Sadira had just demanded to know how she appeared in her chambers. Arabella glanced at the open trinket box containing the three pins from Wren’s possessions. Did she want the queen to ask about them?

“You will tell me everything you were prevented from telling me the day Caellum and I last visited you,” Sadira commanded, determining such an ask would earn her as many answers as possible as opposed to thinking of specifics.

Arabella extended her palm out and looked at the trinket box.

Still clutching her dagger, Sadira slowly reached in to drop them into Arabella’s palm.

She smiled softly as she looked at them.

“Before I begin, please understand… I did not know everything I was fated to reveal this evening. Some, I knew from the memories my father began recalling, others I knew from my deity when she appeared in dreams. I only know the rest now she has confirmed the link to the Isle of Gods is broken. The curse preventing her and others from telling us all they know is gone.” Sadira could not help the sigh of relief that escaped her lips.

They had succeeded in one task. Learning all Arabella and Osiris knew would help them to understand Novisia’s history and Caligh’s role.

They could gather armies to locate and end him.

Sadira’s heart stuttered. It still did not confirm where she would call home in the months to come. Arabella held up each pin in the light.

“Shapeshifters, Sorcerers and Wiccan,” Arabella said. Sadira tilted her head. “Three races stemming from three deities. Three deities stemming from one god.” Arabella looked up from the pins to meet Sadira’s eye. “Your god, Garridon.” Sadira clenched her jaw to keep from reacting.

“What is the importance of the three races?” Sadira asked.

“A reverse, a reflection, a sister, a mirror. Find the truth beneath you and all will be clearer. Healing and prophecies, curses and spells. One abides, one rebels. For the cost of a curse, there must be a price. Find your reflection in the ancient and say goodbye.” Arabella recited the prophecy as clearly as Athena had.

“The Wiccan lived in harmony for so long until Caligh infiltrated our clans—until he divided two sisters. His dark magic twisted her mind from healing and prophecies to curses and spells, instead, creating the Sorcerers. While the Wiccan abide by the laws of nature, the Sorcerers rebel.” Arabella sighed, as though pained at the information related to this prophecy.

“You spoke of a divide among the Wiccan people—a war. Is that what you reference?” Sadira asked.

“Yes. The War of Hearts. The pure, and the tainted. Wiccan and Sorcerers. Light and dark.”

“You’re bordering on convoluted again, Arabella,” Sadira warned. “What does this have to do with Novisia?”

“It was a Sorcerer that aided Caligh in entrapping Sonos. It was a Sorcerer that placed the curse on all lands, including the one that altered memories, and prevented anyone from finding you or revealing the truth.” Arabella was speaking quickly now, as though a weight lifted from her with every breath.

“But every curse has a price. The curse to lock away the gods, linked it to Novisia. With the link broken, the gods are free. Free to...” Arabella trailed off, her eyes watering.

“Free to what?” Sadira pushed.

“Free to take revenge against those who aided Caligh and his Sorcerer in entrapping them and taking their father.” Sadira released the grip on her dagger. That had been the gods’ motive. They had knowingly forced Elisara to break the link to free themselves.

“Who aided Caligh, Arabella?” Sadira asked. The woman wiped a tear from her face and looked at her queen.

“The deities,” she said. “All eighteen of them.” Sadira placed the dagger down and rubbed her forehead.

“This is a lot to take in,” Sadira sighed.

Eighteen deities, and if what she said about the three stemming from Garridon were true, Sadira could only assume the others descended from the other Novisian Gods.

Sadira recalled Elisara’s account from Sallos.

Three races on both Xyliar and Carvyre. Three races stemming from Sonos and Sitara.

Larelle had shared the joined maps with them all, Thassena, Asynthos, Eresydon, Q’Ohar. Three deities for each land.

“My deity has told me little else. She said it was not your responsibility to uncover the rest.”

“Whose responsibility is it, then?” Sadira asked. Arabella looked out over the ocean.

“The Prince of Xyliar will answer that question tomorrow,” she said firmly, certain that Osiris would arrive in Novisia in the morning.

“There is so much more I know she is not telling me, your Majesty, and more I know you will need Osiris for. She only grants me the knowledge she has because I am sworn to your family and our lineages are pure. She grants me this knowledge because war is coming, your Majesty.”

“War?” Sadira’s hand drifted to her stomach.

“The War of Gods is upon us,” Arabella said, her voice foreboding.

“To answer your earlier question, I did not enter through conventional means. I entered because you called upon me through the pin clutched in your left hand,” Arabella said.

Sadira did not respond, distracted by the worry of war.

“Do you remember the first time we met in the tavern? I told you Wiccans were the first to learn to imbue things. We are powerful in it.” Sadira gave the smallest nod and recalled a passage on magical imbuement she had read that very day in the dim light of the tavern.

Other items can be imbued with power, too: goblets with the ability to kill its drinker, clothing that allows the person to mimic their original owner, and books reciting to the reader what they wish to hear or transporting them to the places within.

“The pin you clutch was imbued long ago by the Brodie Clan with the ability to summon a protector to the Mordane ruler’s side. To transport them.”

“Your family was close to the Brodie Clan, to the Mordanes?” Sadira finally asked. Arabelle inclined her head.

“They were, your Majesty. We have been designated protectors of the Mordane family from the earliest days. It is my duty to serve at your side and protect you. My family were bred to oversee the three races, gifted with immense strength to aid us in our missions.” Arabella rose from her bench and stepped towards the queen.

Slowly, she pulled a dagger from beneath her cloak and Sadira reached for her own in defence.

Arabella lowered to her knees before her queen.

“I once told you there is power in a name and I would not share mine completely.” Sadira looked down at the woman, at the innocence in her face now as she raised a dagger to her hand and sliced across it, letting blood drop at her queen’s feet.

“I share it now as I make this oath. I, Arabella Balfour, swear allegiance to the Mordane Family from this day until the day I die, protecting your life.”