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Chapter Eight

M y life is going to change today.

The idea had been running through my mind since the second I woke, on an endless repeat, no matter what I did to ignore it.

I shook my head as if to shake it out of my thoughts while I smoothed my thumb over the parchment before me. The slate pencil rested between my teeth as I shaded the delicate edges of a rose petal. My sketches were clumsy, uneven at best, but that was part of why I enjoyed the task.

It seemed like everything else in my life came too easily.

My status as a Descendant of Hyrax bestowed upon me riches, jewels, and high social standing.

It had initially taken some time for me to gain control over my magic, but now it flowed through me easily.

Power that others could only dream of commanding.

Even fighting had come naturally, as if I’d been born knowing how to wield my body as a weapon.

But drawing was different.

I was absolutely terrible at it.

I’d been practicing every day, determined to develop a skill that was earned. And while I was still a long way off from painting any murals on the palace wall, the practice brought me a good bit of peace.

Peace that I desperately needed. Especially today.

Today, I would ascend to the Council .

Months of endless preparation had all led to this single day. What had at first been forced upon me had become something I wanted to embrace. Yet, as I sat here waiting for the ceremony, I felt strangely uneasy.

Something about this all felt… wrong.

It made little sense. I belonged on the Council. I was the last Descendant of Hyrax, the only one who could claim my family’s seat. I had trained, studied, and sacrificed to be here. I was ready.

So why didn’t I feel that way?

My emotions were all over the place. Desperate for Clay one day and rejecting him the next. Wanting to share all my secrets with Iris and my friends in one moment and being entirely unable to share my dreams of Hyrax the next. And all the while, I hated myself more and more.

“It’s time,” Nessira called, pulling me from my thoughts.

Worry pinched her lips, an expression she wore more often than not these days.

“Samsa, go prepare the bath for Lady Moore,” Nessira instructed the young girl she had hired as my second Lady-in-Waiting.

When the girl’s thin frame and pale blonde hair retreated to the bathing chamber, Nessira slowly approached me, crossing her arms unhappily across her chest as she eyed the remains of my breakfast from where it sat on a tray at the edge of my bed.

“You ate little,” she noted.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

She nodded with a thoughtful expression. “You haven’t eaten much at all recently.”

“I’m fine, Nessira.” I stood abruptly, brushing my hands together to rid them of pencil dust, and moved to walk past her, desperate to avoid this conversation. It was bad enough to deal with Dimitri, Rankor, and Clay constantly fretting over my health. I didn’t need her piling on.

“My Lady!” Nessira’s voice was sharp as she stepped in the way of my path.

With anyone else, her tone would have gotten her removed from her post.

“I’m worried,” she said simply.

I sighed, running tired hands through the ends of my tangled curls. After spending days in bed with the fever, it had been too long since I’d brushed through it. It probably looked as hopeless as I felt.

“Don’t be,” I muttered.

“You’re not eating or sleeping, my lady,” she pressed, her voice softening. “It’s plain to anyone with eyes you’re still carrying the weight of Lorelai Pelland’s death. Your sadness is unending, it seems.”

“You speak as if I deserve to feel anything else,” I snapped, the bitterness in my voice cutting through the air.

She looked away for a moment, and when she looked towards me again, the change was obvious. Her expression was no longer worried or angry.

She pitied me.

“Lady Moore,” she said gently. “Lorelai’s death was not your fault. You deserve to feel more. You deserve to feel all manner of happiness.”

I laughed darkly. “Even if I were to excuse myself with the weight of her death, you assume I’m not capable of causing even greater destruction.”

She frowned. “Why would you think that?”

The words hovered on the tip of my tongue, the truth begging to be set free. But the confession died on my tongue.

I couldn’t share the prophecy with anyone. Not even Nessira.

After a long moment, I simply told her I was ready for my bath and strode into the bathing chamber.

She let the conversation fall away, thankfully, and left me to soak in the lavender scented water for longer than necessary while she and Samsa gathered everything they would need to prepare me for the ascension ceremony.

When they returned, long after my skin had pruned, they helped slide on my dress.

It was unlike anything I’d ever worn before.

The deep violet fabric rippled with sparkling embroidery.

The sweetheart neckline showed my chest, where Nessira had carefully painted the Mark of Hyrax.

Diamond pins adorned my elegantly twisted hair, their weight unfamiliar but regal.

A massive fur-lined golden cape draped over my shoulders, its clasp heavy against my collarbone.

“You’re ready,” Nessira said, adjusting a stray curl.

Was I though?

Her eyes searched mine, and something in my face must have given her pause. She dismissed Samsa with a glance and disappeared into my closet, returning moments later with my dagger and thigh sheath.

“You know?” I gasped.

Nessira said nothing. She only helped me to lift my skirt and secure the blade into place.

I grasped onto her hand as she stood. “Thank you, Nessira. I appreciate your friendship.”

With a small smile, she squeezed my hand in return. “And I appreciate yours.”

T he organ music was supposed to be uplifting.

Traditionally played for ascensions, weddings, and coronations, it was meant to inspire awe and hope.

Yet, as the heavy chords cascaded over me, I couldn’t help but to find it all a bit ominous.

From my place in the carriage, I could hear it faintly beneath the murmur of voices as the people of Athenia filed into the Temple of the Gods.

“Is it odd that the first time I’ve been to the Temple is for my ascension?” I mused aloud, almost to myself.

Across from me, Emeryn’s head snapped up. She’d been silent for most of the ride, scanning her notes on the day’s itinerary.

“You haven’t?” she hissed. “Oh, that’s no good. The optics are terrible. Try not to mention that to anyone. And don’t gawk when you go inside.”

Her words made me chuckle softly. The things Emeryn worried about always seemed so… trivial. Although, I supposed that’s why they assigned her to manage my affairs. She cared about the details I couldn’t bring myself to consider.

These days, that list was only growing longer.

If Hyrax and the Underworld didn’t consume my mind, Lorelai and Iris preoccupied it. My mind constantly bounced from one dark thought to the next, only allowing me the briefest of moments to consider the Council or my ascension.

The air outside the carriage stilled, and a sharp tension settled over me.

It was time.

Emeryn tapped on the carriage door, signaling Dimitri.

He opened it swiftly and helped her down before turning to me.

His hand was firm as I stepped onto the cobblestone street, and after he was sure I found my footing, he released me, falling to one knee with his head bowed and one hand over his heart.

“It has been my honor to serve you, my Lady. I will be with you today and always.”

My heart stuttered as my jaw fell slightly open. Instinctively, I wanted to tell him to stand, to insist there was no need for such a display, but Emeryn’s sharp glare pinned me in place. Of course, he was bowing. This was my ascension, and that was the respect the ceremony required .

“Thank you, Dimitri,” I murmured, my voice soft but steady.

He rose and followed as I climbed the marble steps toward the temple’s grand wooden doors. They loomed before me, twice my height, with intricate stained-glass windows that told stories of Gods and legends. The wind stirred gently, brushing against my neck as I took in the towering structure.

Hyrax wasn’t on the windows.

Of course he wasn’t. There were no depictions of him.

“Are you nervous?” A familiar, melodic voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to see Kent standing to my right, dressed in his finest military regalia. His orange jacket caught the sunlight, giving his tawny skin a warm glow, and medals gleamed across his chest.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, pulling him into a quick hug despite Emeryn’s protests about my dress.

“Typically, a husband or relative would escort you.”

“And I have neither of those.”

“You don’t,” he agreed, offering his arm to me as we ascended the final steps. “But I have a great-great-aunt descended from Hyrax, so I volunteered.”

“I didn’t know that!” I squeezed his arm, grateful for his presence. “Thank you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I raised a brow, pretending not to understand.

“Are you nervous?”

For a moment, my stomach churned, and my thoughts flashed to my first appearance in Athenia. That day, I’d been terrified, a scared girl thrust into a world she didn’t understand.

But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

“No,” I lied, fixing my gaze on the temple doors. “I just want to get this over with. ”

Kent’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter, but he didn’t acknowledge the untruth. “Very well. Let’s go, then.”

The heavy wooden doors creaked open and inside, an aisle lined with rose petals stretched before us, flanked by hundreds of Athenians standing shoulder to shoulder.

For a heartbeat, the room froze, every gaze fixed on me.

Then, in unison, they fell to their knees, arms crossed over their hearts in a gesture of reverence.