Page 1 of The Sins of Silas (The Otacian Chronicles #2)

Chapter One

SILAS - FIVE YEARS AGO

I awoke to swollen eyes, just as I had the past few nights, and cursed myself when I peered at the clock resting on my nightstand.

6:50 a.m. The council meeting begins in just ten minutes.

Flinging off the comforter cocooning me, I hurried to the bathroom sink, soaking a rag with cold water and wringing it out. I held it to my eyes in an attempt to lessen the puffiness.

It was no surprise I looked this way; I had cried myself to sleep the past couple of nights…ever since my mother was murdered. Last night, I had woken from my sleep in a cold sweat, chest heaving, heart pounding.

Something had felt off. Strange. I didn't know what, but the uneasy sensation made it difficult to fall back asleep.

I pressed the rag to my other swollen eye. The King would not be pleased to witness such weakness. I could only hope he wouldn’t be able to tell I had been crying.

I often wondered if the man had a soul. I hadn’t seen him shed a single tear since Mother’s passing. Though that wasn’t entirely alarming…I had never seen my father cry my entire life.

My thoughts drifted to Lena, how it felt holding her last night. Her body against mine, how it felt to kiss her.

I wanted her to be at my side in this castle. I wanted to sleep beside her every night, holding her close. But I hated the thought of her risking her life to see me. It was still unclear if the danger had entirely been eliminated, and I found myself wishing for her to stay away for a while—just until we knew it was secure again. I couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to her.

I scrubbed at my face in frustration. How was I going to ensure our future together? Mother had completely supported our relationship, but now she was gone. The King would never accept Lena as Otacia’s princess and future queen.

I placed the cloth down, my eyes looking only slightly less swollen, and was startled by a knock on the door.

“The meeting has begun, Your Highness,” Daerin, one of our guards, informed through the door. “The King is not pleased.”

“I’ll be out momentarily,” I called out.

Strange. Usually, it was Torrin who would fetch me.

I chucked off my lounge pants as I heard the steps retreating from my door, then dressed in my fine clothes: a tunic adorned with silver embroidery, trousers that fit tightly against the muscles in my legs, and boots. All were black—the color I wore most days .

Lastly, I placed my silver crown atop my head and studied myself in the mirror beside my bed. The sapphires set in it sparkled from the morning sun filtering into my room.

My hair isn’t neat enough, and my damn eyes…

I raked my hands down my face.

I didn’t recognize myself most days anymore. Aside from these swollen eyes, wearing these clothes…this crown…it all felt heavy. Too heavy.

I wished I could be an ordinary man…wished I didn’t have these responsibilities. All I desired was to be with Lena, to live , not just go through the motions as I had every day before meeting the fiery, red-headed beauty.

The corner of my mouth went up at the thought of her. It would be her birthday in just five days. Though I had recently given her my mother’s necklace, I still wished to surprise her with something else. I’d pondered various ideas last night, but nothing had stuck out. I’d gifted her several gowns already, and I had just given her jewelry, so earrings seemed uninspired.

Perhaps I could purchase a new weapon for her, or I could write her a poem…though I am not very talented in that regard.

I’d actually written her a handful of poems and letters since I met her, but I still hadn’t found the courage to give them to her. I had no problem professing my love in person…but I found myself feeling nervous at the thought of her reading such vulnerable words. I kept them tucked safely under my mattress. I'd give them to her eventually.

So, what else could I gift her?

Lena would always protest whenever I spoiled her, but regardless, her pleas would not sway me. She deserved more than what life had given her thus far .

If only I could turn back the clock and enjoy just one more day outside these castle walls, I would take her to a nice restaurant or even spend another afternoon in the forest lying together, watching the clouds pass through the tree branches. I just wanted one more day of going unnoticed, one more day of experiencing what others perceived as ordinary moments. They were anything but ordinary to me.

I sighed as I exited my quarters, navigating the various white hallways. Had it always been so prosaic and dull in this place? Had it always lacked color and vibrancy?

I was approaching the war room when I saw Finnan with his ear pressed to the black, wooden door.

I suppressed a chuckle, but it came out anyway when I placed a hand on the ten-year-old’s shoulder, causing him to jump higher than I knew possible for a human.

He clutched his chest, respiring heavily. “You startled me, Your Highness!”

I raised a brow at him, a smile still on my face. “Are you supposed to be eavesdropping?”

Finnan gave a half-grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably not.”

Finnan was the son of Emerson, one of my father’s generals. He also happened to be a part of the dreadful meeting being held behind this door.

I ruffled the kid’s brown hair, then finally entered the war room, shutting the door behind me and walking toward the group gathered of Otacia’s most elite.

Father was sitting at the head of the massive wooden table, stroking his short, black beard as he glowered at the map laid out before him. This room was as gloomy as they come, a stark contrast to the all-white walls just outside. The stone in here was unpainted, and nothing but the large window behind my father provided natural light. The Otacian flag, in our colors navy, black, and silver, was flowing due to the morning breeze blowing in.

“It is a terrible tragedy,” Rurik expressed blandly. “But do you think it is connected, Your Majesty?”

Just as Daerin had said, the meeting had already begun. I was to receive a slap for that, I’m sure. I quickly seated myself further down the table. I may be the Prince, but to my father, I had not earned the right to sit beside him.

These meetings had been going on daily since Mother’s assassination. Usually for hours at a time. Going over possible threats and connections—brainstorming ways to lure Mages without harming our soldiers.

I hated all of it.

I hated witches, too. Hated that the guilt I felt for setting Amatta on fire was but a speck in the back of my mind.

Did that make me just as much a monster as she? That I could end her life and feel nothing at all?

“How would killing two Outer Ring women be connected?” Emerson asked with lowered brows.

To that, my eyes shot up, my heartbeat quickening. “What did you say?” I asked, sitting straighter in my seat. “What happened?”

The King slowly lifted his glare to me. “You would know if you had been here on time, Silas.”

His flat tone sent chills down my spine. Just as I was about to press on the matter, Emerson spoke.

“Arson in the Outer Ring. A cottage was set on fire in the middle of the night while a woman and her daughter were inside. ”

My stomach sank so hard that I felt I’d be sick. I attempted to school my expression, lowering my trembling hands to my lap.

No.

It was just a coincidence. It had to be. The Outer Ring had thousands of residents. It could’ve been anyone.

“Also, Brighthell is nowhere to be found.”

Torrin is missing?

“Has the place been investigated yet?” I pushed. As much as I cared for Torrin, Lena’s well-being was my main concern. “Are the citizens alive?"

“We had a handful of soldiers go down to confirm the fire itself, but the investigative crew is about to head out as we speak.”

Instantly, I stood, my chair’s legs dragging against the floor, making an unpleasant screech.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the King demanded through his teeth.

I took in a shaky breath as my father narrowed his eyes at me. “I wish to investigate, Your Majesty,” I responded calmly. “If a Mage truly did this…”

If a witch hurt Lena…

“The experience could be good for him, Your Majesty,” Emerson interposed. He was perhaps the only person in this room that I liked.

My father studied me for a moment more before ultimately conceding. “Very well. See what you can discover, Silas.”

I gave him a grateful nod, then rushed to meet with the soldiers about to head out. After questioning a handful of men if there were any casualties and being provided no answer, I decided to remain silent .

Arming myself with my sword, I mounted Sable, my ebony horse, and made my way toward the Outer Ring.

A pit was in my chest the entire time.

It is some other house. It has to be.

I took slow and steady breaths, preparing myself as we turned the corner before Lena’s home.

And I nearly collapsed at the sight of her house.

No.

It was charred…burnt. Although citizens had successfully extinguished the fire, the smoke from the aftermath was still swirling toward the sky.

Instantly, I pulled the reins, squeezing my legs and pushing my hips forward to race my horse toward the house.

“Your Highness!” one of the soldiers called, but I ignored him.

She is alive. She must be alive.

I quickly scrambled off Sable and dashed up to the front door.

“You shouldn’t go in, Your Highness,” a soldier insisted as he halted me, holding his palms out. “It isn’t healthy to breathe in these fumes.”

“Out of my way,” I seethed, and the soldier’s eyes went wide. I was always a kind, respectful prince. I had never ordered anyone around.

He quickly nodded as he stepped out of my path.

I loosened a breath at the state of Lena’s living room and kitchen as I entered. The soldier handed me an oil lamp—the soot covering the walls, the windows, everything, made it so there was hardly any natural light.

Hold in the emotion. Don’t let them see.

I needed to ask if they survived. The soldiers here knew the answer. But the words wouldn’t come out .

I slowly crept toward Lena’s room, my heartbeat pounding against my chest.

Please…please…

The door was just slightly cracked. I froze for a moment, hand on the knob.

Please be okay…

Finally, I forced myself to step inside…and time stilled. A muffled cry left my lips when I saw what lay in her bed.

No.

“This is a hard sight for anyone to see, Your Highness.”

No. No. No.

He cleared his throat. “I insist, these fumes—”

“Leave me,” my voice cracked. “Shut the door behind me and leave.”

The soldier’s brow furrowed. “Your Highness—”

“I wish to say a prayer in private,” I whispered. “Please.”

His eyes bounced between mine, and he gently nodded, retreating as he closed the door to give me privacy.

As I slowly turned to her, my face crumpled. I was frozen for a long while, unable to believe what was before me. Aside from the orange glow coming from my lamp, the room was nearly pitch black…and eerily silent.

When I finally brought myself to move, my steps felt heavy. I knelt at her side.

“Lena…” I cried softly, unable to restrain my body’s trembling. “No…no…”

I placed the oil lamp on the ground beside me. Her hair was gone—those beautiful copper waves disintegrated by the flames. Her face was hardly recognizable .

But it was her.

It was her.

I sobbed quietly as I brushed my fingertips on what was left of her cheek, and at the feeling of her dead body, I wept.

I couldn’t get enough air, and it had nothing to do with the smoke. In fact, I wished the fumes would suffocate me, wished they’d take me to wherever she now was.

My best friend.

The love of my life.

Lena.

My eyes trailed over her neck, then darted to her hand.

My mother’s necklace, the ring I had given her…someone fucking stole them!

I thought I had felt rage when Mother died, but this? Was this the work of witches? Did they see her climb up to the castle? See her with me?

Was this to punish me? Was it part of their plan? Or was it just some lowlifeslooking to steal?

Sweat dripped down my body as I attempted to regulate my breathing.

“You cannot let your will to live be tied to me, Silas. To anyone.”

I shook my head as I recalled her final words to me. “You cannot leave me,” I wept quietly. “I need you. My life has no meaning without you.”

“Because life is unfair, and tragedy can happen at any time.”

I cried harder. I placed a kiss on her forehead, my tears dripping onto her burnt corpse. It was morbid…but it was Lena. My Lena.

“You will not give up.”

“I can’t…Lena,” I sobbed.

“You will not break. ”

I struggled to breathe as I pictured her face. Her beautiful green eyes…her radiant smile.

“Promise me.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t accept this. I don’t accept it.” I kissed her forehead again, holding my lips on her as I attempted to pull myself together.

There was a knock on the door, and a faint voice asked, “Are you finished, Your Highness?”

I withdrew, holding what was left of her face, taking note of every horrific detail, as painful as it was.

“I will always love you.” My trembling hand lowered to hold what remained of hers as I whispered, “I will find you in the afterlife, Lena. I promise.”

Mother had taught me of the Gods, insisting I know all I could about them. At the feel of my lover's corpse, I didn’t know if I believed in such a fantasy anymore. Still, I found myself silently praying to Ravaiana, the Goddess of Life.

Please provide Lena peace. Please tell her how much I love her. Tell her how special she is. How…

I choked on a sob again as there was another knock on the door, more urgent this time.

“Just a second!” I rasped, then resumed my prayer.

Tell her that I will find out who did this to her and that I won’t rest until there is justice. I know nothing of the afterlife, nothing about prayers…but please, if you haven’t already, provide her safe passage into Elysium. Tell her I will be with her again…and that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

I didn’t know if I deserved to go to Elysium…to heaven. I had already killed four men, evil as they were. I had killed Amatta, too. But the entire universe would have to conspire against me if there was a sliver of a chance for my soul to find hers again.

“I will find you,” I murmured to her. “I will find you, Flower. I will find you.”

One last kiss, and I rose, wiping my eyes and catching my breath.

I just needed to last until I was in my room. Then I could let go.

I retrieved my lamp, then clutched the knob and turned, making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone. I ignored their expressions of concern, making my way to mount Sable and head home.

I waited for the men to conclude their search, and while I did, I went over the past couple of days, analyzing every little thing.

Lena didn’t have many belongings to warrant a theft so extreme. Aside from a few gowns, the necklace and ring were probably all they had of value.

Witches. It had to be witches.

They saw what we did—what I did to Amatta. They must’ve had a spy watching me, saw how much Lena meant to me, and killed her to make things even.

I grasped the reins in anguish. She should’ve never come to my room.

This is all my fault.

I could see now that they targeted Lena as an act of revenge, but why Mother? What was their play?

And what were they planning next?

I took in the weather, the bright blue sky, the shining sun. How could the day be so beautiful? How could the world go on like it was nothing when she had suffered so? How was the universe itself not in mourning ?

The sky should be grey, rain pouring, thundering cracking as if the Gods themselves were weeping over such a loss.

I barely managed to make it back to the castle in one piece, rushing to my bedroom the second I dismounted Sable. I was silent for a moment when I shut the door behind me. Frozen.

Lena is dead.

Lena is dead.

Lena is dead.

I made it only a few steps before I collapsed to my knees, clutching my chest.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn’t think.

All I could see was her burned, stiff body. All I could smell was the smoke. All I could hear was Amatta’s scream, imagining that Lena’s cries sounded the same as her life was taken away by flame.

I finally let go completely, wailing into my hands.

“You will not break.”

How could she ask that of me? How could she believe it was even possible?

I am broken. I am nothing without her by my side.

I jolted when my door swung open. Turning with fearful eyes, I watched as my father shut my bedroom door behind him.

“You fucking child,” he seethed, charging toward me. “Crying over some peasants like a pathetic infant.” He gripped the collar of my shirt roughly, pulling me to my feet. “I was told how you acted today. You are an embarrassment. ”

I glared at him with hatred, tears streaming down my face. “They weren’t just some peasants,” I spat.

He released my shirt, flinging me back. I stumbled but kept myself from falling.

“Be relieved it was someone from the Outer Ring and not someone of importance,” he said simply.

I was full of rage—so much rage.

How dare he.

How fucking dare he.

I didn’t think; I just acted. I reeled my arm back and swung my fist across his face.

It made a sickening sound, and pain shot through my knuckles on impact. As scared as I was for what was to come, it felt fucking good inflicting pain on him.

My father slowly curved his head back toward me, touching his now-busted lip, blood coating his fingertips. His malicious gaze met mine, and I watched as he pulled out a dagger.

His voice was dark as he growled, “That will be the last time you disrespect me.”

My limbs shook, and my eyes bulged as my father swung at me with his dagger. I dodged quickly, but he persisted. The King was a lot of things—terrible things—but a poor fighter was not one of them.

I managed to dodge his blows until his final swing was successful, and I hissed as the steel blade dragged from just above my lip and up my left cheek.

I grunted as I drew away, my fingertips skimming the blood now coursing down my face .

My father’s voice was clipped as he wiped his blade, tucking it back into his side. “See to it that you get stitches.” He clicked his tongue. “That’s going to leave a nasty scar.”

I glared at him, shaking with contempt as my blood dribbled onto the marble floor.

His black eyes scrutinized me with distaste, his lip curling. “Perhaps it shall serve as a reminder. Every time you see your imperfect flesh, I want you to remember just how much of a disappointment you really are.”

And with those final words, he left.

I loosened my exhale and gradually stepped to my vanity mirror, blinking at the split open skin, at the trail of red dripping under my chin and down my shirt. My father had slapped me, had punched me…but never had he cut me. The wound burned, I imagined, but no physical pain could outdo the mental.

I want you to remember how much of a disappointment you really are.

I had failed. I had failed my mother. I had failed Minerva. I had failed Lena.

I really was a disappointment, wasn’t I?