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W hen Aurora woke next, it was dark outside. She drank in the sound of Theron’s steady breathing, the scent of his soap and skin, the comforting warmth of his presence. Would that she could spend every day like this, her greatest challenge deciding which dress she wanted him to divest her of and in what way he would make love to her.

“Oh goddess…” she groaned, remembering all the things they’d done, shame scalding her.

Aurora couldn’t sit still. The memories of asking him to play out her deepest fantasies raced through her mind. She removed herself from his side and began pacing.

What if he’d only humoured her, and he didn’t truly enjoy what they’d done? What if he thought her strange, unnatural? It was a common-enough reaction to her peculiar tastes. Few people were interested in such things. What if he regretted their bond, now that he’d glimpsed inside the part of her she’d kept hidden away? She should have approached it slowly, tactfully, sounding him out first. What if she spent the rest of her days wishing she’d kept it all buried deep, where no one would know of her shame or use it to hurt her? What a mess she’d mired herself in.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor, Aurora. Come back to bed.” Theron beckoned her sleepily.

She walked mechanically to his side, her gut churning. Theron took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, looking up at her from the comfort of his pillow.

“What troubles you?”

“It’s just…I’ve never…never done that before. P-play, I mean.”

“Did you dislike it?”

“No! No, I…liked it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, amused.

“You’re not…put off by me, are you?”

He raised a brow. Oh goddess, it was just as she’d feared.

“W-we don’t have to do it again!” she reassured him, her heart in her throat. “If it’s not to your liking, I don’t want to force you to do anything that repels you. I didn’t mean to—”

He pressed a finger to her lips.

“Hush. That’s enough of that. Rest assured, I very much enjoyed what we shared, and I intend to indulge in our every fantasy—repeatedly, and at great length.”

Aurora released a shaky breath and a quiet, relieved laugh as he cupped her cheek and stroked her face with his thumb.

“Thank you,” she said, kissing his palm. “For everything.”

“It’s no easy thing to trust another with our most cherished desires. I’m grateful you proved worthy of that trust,” he said solemnly.

“And I you, Theron.”

“Now, are you coming back to bed? I want a few more hours of rest before we leave this thrice-damned city.”

Aurora shook her head. There was no going back to sleep now that her anxiety had woken her.

“I slept for a whole day already.”

“You ran yourself ragged, physically and emotionally, and that was before I brought you to the temple. You needed the rest. But if you can’t sleep, feel free to wander the temple halls. The paladins and my people are on guard for any of Flora’s minions. There’s a dress for you there, in the wardrobe. It was all that could be crafted on such short notice. I’ll have finer ones made as soon as possible.”

Aurora smiled and kissed him on his forehead, changing into the dress and slipping from the room, Theron already asleep once more. She found her way to the courtyard and decided to enjoy the pre-dawn cool, wiping away the morning dew from the bench. Where the courtyards of Knowledge’s temples were dedicated to rare and unusual plants meant for study, and Justice’s were utilitarian, minimalist spaces meant to help clear the mind, Passion’s were explosions of colour, scent and lush beauty.

Spices and florals mixed in the air. Even throughout millennia, some things remained the same. Though she couldn’t identify all the different plant species, the blend reminded her of home. She alone amongst her family had chosen Knowledge as her patroness, despite being born under Passion’s stars. Like most merchants, her family prayed most fervently to Passion. Her early childhood was filled with memories of incense and prayers in the ruby temple. Of racing through the halls and courtyard laughing and shrieking as she was chased by cheerful acolytes, and doted on by priestesses who pinched her chubby cheeks. Aspiring cooks would slip her confections when her parent’s gazes were turned while complimenting her on her long ears.

Home felt so very close in that moment, here in the same temple where she would one day spend her childhood. And yet, she may never return. The cycle of calamity, Drakon, kept her here by necessity, but she had more than one destiny. The thread that bound her to Theron was as unexpected as it was precious. Already she felt herself pulled in two—the desire to go home, and the desire to stay. With Theron, a part of her was already home.

Aurora rested her head on the bark of the tree at her side.

She needn’t think of such things. Those were decisions she didn’t yet have the luxury of making. Drakon still needed to be destroyed. Theron’s fate needed to be altered. After all, according to the histories, he was the first monarch to perish in the initial cycle of calamity. If she stayed, would she be able to alter his doomed course? She’d managed to alter it already, marrying him in place of the princess he was supposed to wed. But what if the histories had simply been incorrect all along and she’d changed nothing? What if, like her visions, she’d be forced to watch his death play out, no matter how hard she struggled against it?

Perhaps it was time to tell him everything. About who she really was, where—and when—she’d come from. About his ultimate fate, about the course of history. After all, the kind of love she wanted to share with him had no place for secrets. Aurora didn’t know if what she felt for him was love yet, but it was achingly close. Even now, Passion’s bond was like a tether between them. In this lifetime and in all her others, she was meant to find him. It was a comforting thought that though there was great evil meant for her, there was goodness too. She could only hope he would take the news of her origins half as well as Hyllus had. If he didn’t… she didn’t want to contemplate what her married life would look like.

Aurora chuckled softly to herself.

It would have been better to go back to bed, if staying awake was only going to make her morose. Just as she decided to seek her husband’s warmth, the sound of a cane clicking on the mosaic floors of the temple caught her attention. There, in the gloom, Orithyia appeared like a wraith, draped in the deepest black of her high priestess’ robes.

“I’d hoped I might find you here,” she said, pulling back her veil to hang behind her, attached to the silver and black tiara atop her white, braided hair.

Aurora stood, squaring her shoulders and bracing for a fight. She was no longer the scared, lost girl who had come to her for aid. She was the queen of Aureum now, and she would not let this woman harm her again.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“If you’re going to be a queen in more than name, you’ll need to learn to lie better than that.” Orithyia chuckled.

“What do you want?” Aurora seethed.

“I see his temper has rubbed off on you. But you have nothing to be cross about,” Orithyia chided her.

“You left me to rot in the vivarium!”

“After you broke into my private chamber, raving like a madwoman.” Orithyia raised a brow.

“Then what was your excuse to maim me?” She motioned to her eye.

Even now, Aurora feared the woman’s switch. Her flesh had been fully healed and yet Aurora still remembered the panic, the agony. Invisible scars that would linger for a lifetime. She hated the fear this woman inspired in her, how now every crack of thunder brought her back to that horrid day.

“During the outbreak of plague? You dawdled while people died. Your reticence was costing lives I could have been saving. And in any case, you were seducing the Aurean king. I had every confidence you would be healed within the hour.”

Aurora heart hammered with anger. She was so blasé about the suffering she’d caused.

“And what of your cruelties in Flora’s throne room?”

At every juncture, Orithyia had chosen to harm her. Never once had she chosen kindness or compassion. Always she chose pain.

“You’d made it impossible to conceal your magic, screaming for days before the monstrosities had appeared what would occur. I held that demonstration to save your life. What would have been more believable—a worshipper of the sinister Triad receiving messages from their goddesses, or a true oracle? That demonstration proved what you are—and what you were not. Are you complaining because it hurt?”

Aurora swallowed her angry tears. It was quite rich for someone protected by a goddess from ever suffering more than a papercut to chide her for despising pain.

“And the princess? What excuse did you have to separate her from Hyllus?”

Orithyia laughed. Aurora reviled her in that moment. Aurora’s hurts were but drops in an ocean of pain that Epicasta had suffered. Three unwanted marriages, her body used like a bargaining chip as the life of the man she loved was used as a cudgel to force her obedience. Years of agonizing heartbreak and horror. And for what?

“You mean the only other woman capable of keeping her mother in line? That princess? The same Epicasta who was wise beyond her years and intelligent enough to win the title of crown princess in spite of being the youngest of four? Why do you think, Aurora? Was it because I’m a cruel old bitch, or because the well-being of the queendom was more important than the heart of a single woman?”

She raised her brow, triumphant.

“So you don’t deny it?”

“Did I help Flora imprison Hyllus far away from Epicasta? Yes. A prison he escaped soon after, never to darken the doors of the royal palace again—until recently. I allowed her to believe he was still in custody rather than let her know he’d abandoned her, because only one of those outcomes ensured she would stay in the palace. I did what had to be done to keep Epicasta where she was needed most.”

Aurora glared at the high priestess.

“I don’t believe that.”

“You lived in the vivarium, Aurora. Yes, I know what it is called. I didn’t realise how dreadful it was until after the attack. That is something I deeply regret.” Orithyia sighed. “Flora is…unwell. She has always been unwell. I’ve spent a lifetime doing my utmost to keep her darkest impulses at bay, or at least mitigate them. I thought, with a strict and steady hand, I could help her overcome her character flaws—give Viridis the monarch it needed. Alas, her flaws ran so deep and were so destructive that all I could do was race from one fire to the next, putting them out as best I was able.”

“None of that excuses the horrors you allowed Epicasta to suffer! That you allowed so many to suffer! You could have saved Epicasta from the harms done to her and Hyllus!”

Aurora stood her ground, her shouting no doubt rousing some of the sleeping clerics.

“If I had, it would have been at the expense of Viridis! When Epicasta demonstrated the ability to manage her mother, I knew she had to be encouraged to become the next queen—through any means necessary. Now Viridis’ only hope has run away with a handsome nobody made avatar. You think you set her free? You allowed her to shirk the only duty she was born to, all so she can galivant across Trisia with a man whose divine mission puts him in harm’s way. She’s in constant jeopardy as long as she remains by his side. You were a fool, blinded by your na?ve heart.”

She felt the sting of guilt then. Had she actually done the wrong thing? How could causing suffering ever be the right thing to do?

“Is this what you came here for? To make excuses and insult me for having a heart at all?”

Orithyia stamped her cane on the floor in a fit of pique.

“I came here to give you the truth, and the chance to seize power. I’m giving you the opportunity to do the first intelligent thing you’ll do since you were sent here. I’m offering you the chance to be more than just an ornamental queen bound to a lying king.”

So now she sought to sow divisions between her and Theron? Aurora ground her teeth.

“I’m not interested in your slander. Theron is a good man who sacrificed his life for me! While you and Flora have thrown your worst at me, he was there to protect me! I won’t stand here and listen to you insult his character!”

Aurora marched passed Orithyia, reining in the urge to throw the punch she so richly deserved. When Aurora was a few steps from the edge of the courtyard, Orithyia spoke.

“I found your beast, this bringer of calamity. Your Drakon.”

Aurora stopped in her tracks, her breath hitching.

“Where?” Aurora spun around. “Where is he?” she asked, grabbing Orithyia’s slender, bony wrists.

“In Aureum,” she answered, pushing Aurora’s hands off her. “And there is more than one.” Orithyia dipped a hand into the pocket of her robe and withdrew a scroll, sealed with the insignia of Knowledge’s temple. She pressed it into Aurora’s greedy hands.

Aurora tore the seal and opened the scroll. Inside, detailed images of great serpents, each with a unique set of horns atop their scaly heads. The images were painted with colour, naming a few, notes on their size scribbled in the margins. Other details, like what they ate and how often, where they’d been spotted and more littered the pages. Except Drakon’s image was not among them. Her heart sank as a cold sweat ran down her neck. Merciful Triad, there were so many of them. Was Drakon simply the last one of these beasts left standing at the end of the first cycle of calamity? Would she and Hyllus be forced to fight them all? One great serpent was bad enough. There were dozens detailed here.

“They’re in Aureum. None of them can fly yet, as far as my informants are aware, but Batea is rumoured to be altering them for that purpose. Batea is your husband’s cousin, by the way, and his most trusted general and acting queen of Aureum in his absence. Her magic allows her to create chimeras. She would not have been creating these creatures without the king’s knowledge or express permission. He has lied to you, Aurora.”

Aurora’s knees gave out and she slumped to the ground, crumpling the scroll in her hand. Hot tears ran down her cheeks. Her heart threatened to shatter.

“No,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

It wasn’t possible. This must be some ruse, some trick.

“You can ask any of the Aurean soldiers staying here in the temple. They would have been selected from the ranks of your husband’s most trusted. They will confirm that Batea’s kennels contain these very same beasts.”

Aurora spotted an acolyte wandering the halls.

“You!” she called.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Bring one of the Aurean soldiers here, as quickly as you can.”

The acolyte’s eyes widened with alarm at her state. She bowed and raced off. Aurora held herself as still as she could. Theron wouldn’t lie to her. Not about this. They were fated—meant to walk the path of life together. To find love in each other’s arms. He knew how vital her mission was. He had some inkling of what Drakon had taken from her. And he’d promised to help her slay the beast. To put every resource of his kingdom at her disposal. This must be some mistake, some clever lie on Orithyia’s part.

Aurora didn’t even notice the soldier marching up towards her, so lost in her thoughts as she was. He knelt before her.

“Your Majesty? What’s happened? Please, allow me to—”

Aurora pushed the scroll at the soldier.

“Do you recognise any of these beasts?” she asked, her voice brittle.

The soldier took the scroll from her and eyed it.

“Your Majesty, where did you get this?”

Aurora grabbed his tunic, her heart a moment from shattering and her voice hollow.

“Answer the question.”

He looked from Orithyia to Aurora, his lips pursing.

“Yes, Your Majesty. These are some of Batea’s beasts.”

Her heart pounded in her ears.

“And Theron, he knows about these?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“How long?”

“Your Majesty?” the soldier asked, confused.

“How long has he known?” she asked, feeling ill.

“Since they were created, Your Majesty. Over a year now.”

Whatever else the soldier said, Aurora couldn’t hear it. She was mired in her mind, her thoughts coming slowly and too fast all at once. She’d been betrayed.

“Leave the scroll and go,” she hissed, releasing him.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the soldier bowed and left, concern swimming in his eyes.

It was a lie.

All of it.

He’d known this whole time. From the very first, Theron had been sheltering Drakon. All his promises to slay the beast, to give her an army to see the task through… How he must have laughed at her na?veté. What an easy mark she’d been! He’d never intended to help her. All this time, his only interest had been in using her—first for her knowledge, then for her magic, and finally as a way to escape marriage to a Viridian princess. Now she was irrevocably bound to the person who had used her in the cruellest way. In this lifetime and the next. A man she’d trusted with her heart, her body, her desires—her future. And not just her future, but the fate of Trisia itself.

If he was willing to create a multitude of great serpents to keep at his disposal, there was no telling what else he was capable of. And if Drakon was his creation, which seemed more and more likely, there could be no doubt—he was an agent of chaos at worst, and a monster at best.

Aurora wept, her tears staining the paper of the scroll, muddying the ink. Myrina had been wrong. Her dreadful fate would never be balanced with goodness—all that awaited her was death and suffering. All she was meant for was tragedy. All that had been good in her life had been obliterated by Drakon—and Theron.

“ Get up .” Orithyia’s whip-like command was punctuated by the crack of her cane against the ground.

Aurora gasped and looked up as disgust contorted the old woman’s features.

“This is your first lesson as queen, Aurora. Remember it well. A queen does not have the luxury of tears. You do not have the luxury of falling into despair. Now, get up .”

Aurora struggled to her feet, wiping her red-rimmed eyes.

“As I said, I came to you with an opportunity. As you are, you’ll become an ornamental queen. Without a noble lineage, allies, wealth or real power, your only recourse would have been to appeal to your husband’s affections. I hope I don’t have to remind you how fickle a man’s heart is,” she said, pulling another scroll from her pocket, this one sealed with the insignia of the Viridian throne. “I understand how you feel about Queen Flora, but I hope you’ll see this for what it is—your only chance to be a queen in truth.”

Aurora took the scroll from Orithyia, swallowing down bile as she tore the seal. But as many times as she read the words inscribed on the paper, her mind refused to encompass their meaning.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am quite serious.”

Aurora read it again. It must be a trick. Another trap. Queen Flora was offering to adopt her as a daughter, give her the status of a princess of Viridis, and send along a contingent of soldiers, servants, nobles and bureaucrats with her to Aureum to secure her position and help her destroy all of Batea’s beasts.

But nothing the queen or high priestess ever did came without some cost.

“What’s the catch?”

“Well, I doubt your husband will be too pleased,” Orithyia laughed. “And I’ll be coming along. I’ve not set foot in Aureum in some time. With the threat of Drakon looming over Trisia, you’ll need every advantage,” she said. When she saw the suspicion in Aurora’s eyes, she sighed. “You don’t have to accept this olive branch, but it was the best I could do on such short notice.”

But would she be a queen, or just a puppet, beholden to the Viridian throne and Orithyia? Did she have a better option, given the circumstances? She’d allowed herself to be manipulated by Theron. Had bound herself to him to free him from his sacred vow. Reckless passion had doomed her now-shattered heart. All that was left—all that mattered—was destroying Drakon.

She laughed bitterly. At least she was no longer torn in two—her path was clear. Destroy Drakon by any means necessary. And if she survived, she would return home, leaving Theron to his loveless, lonely fate and his vicious battles with Viridis. She didn’t need to remain here once her task was done, a pawn of two monarchs. Unlike him, she had people worthy of her love. What did it matter if she was broken? Once this was done, they could piece her back together. Phaedra. Silvanus. Her family. Her Orithyia. She could hold on a little longer, clutch the jagged shards of her heart close just long enough to see this through.

For them.

“I accept your offer,” Aurora said.

Orithyia smiled.

“I thought you might.”