Page 46

Release me, Saoirse demands again.

No! I say, the pendant glowing around my neck. She’s mine.

The queen’s mouth falls open, and her eyes bulge as my pendant illuminates the space.

Despite her reaction, she isn’t deterred in her assaults.

Yelling, she lunges for me, but I throw my left hand out, allowing the starlight to twirl around her, binding her where she stands.

The warm hum of my ability thrums through me as it seeks retribution for the attack.

It coils tighter and tighter around the queen until she can no longer move her limbs.

Her lavender eyes swim with an almost water-like movement, but whatever she’s attempting to do doesn’t work as they return to their normal sheen.

There’s genuine fear across her face as she tries to wriggle out of my starlight’s grasp .

I smirk, using my ability to levitate her—pulling her mere inches from my face. The mad queen searches for an answer within my gaze that I’m sure she won’t find.

“If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll make sure that it’s your head that rolls,” I snarl.

A slow clap reverberates around the expanse, giving me pause.

“Stupendous,” the king coos. “You truly carry the starlight ability within you.” He smiles to himself, unbothered by the fact that I still hold his queen in my grasp.

“What a rare delight it is to have such a guest. You’re truly the one I’ve sought after for these ten long years. I just needed to know for sure.”

I blink rapidly. “I don’t understand,” I reply.

“Simple, my darling,” he says, pretending to remove lint from his tunic. “I gave you a test, and you passed by allowing your ability to shine through—gloriously, might I add.”

I release my hold on the queen, who shakily backs away from me before ascending the dais once more.

“You wanted me to attack her?” I inquire.

He waves a hand absentmindedly. “The queen, a servant—the Scythe, my general,” he murmurs. “It doesn’t matter who you attacked, as long as I was able to see the ability you possess. Luckily, you played your role beautifully. So much anger burns within you, my darling. Why is that?”

I clench my jaw.

I could tell him it’s because I don’t remember my life before Aurelius.

I could tell him it’s because I miss the only family I’ve ever known.

I could tell him it’s because his sick captain slaughtered them all, following his orders.

I can’t say any of that though, because once the words begin to flow, they’ll never stop. It’ll be like a tidal wave, crashing onto the shores, leaving nothing but the truth in its wake.

The truth is too heavy a price to pay.

I hate King Tiernan and his Drakhul .

I hate his reign and laws.

I hate how he creates monsters out of good citizens that he backs into a corner—like me.

Like Emyr and the Cadre.

“Why don’t you tell me why I’m here, my king,” I retort. “Surely, you aren’t interested in my ability for parlor tricks.”

“HOW DARE YOU INSINUATE—” Queen Orla interjects, but she’s cut short when King Tiernan’s shadows snake around her mouth.

“You’ll speak only when I allow it, Orla,” he sneers. “I’ve let you have your fun, and as always, you’ve proven to be a disappointment.” He angles his hand with the onyx ring closer to his wife. In this lighting, it appears iridescent. Orla shakes her head, shrinking further into the throne.

Is he attempting to control her too? I wonder.

“Now, sit down and speak no more,” he commands. Queen Orla does as she’s told, sitting demurely on her throne, the vibrancy of her eyes dimming—almost in a trance-like state.

What did he do to her?

Granted, I’m more than grateful to not hear her grating voice, but this is something different entirely.

Calling his shadows back into himself, he turns his attention to me.

I stiffen, wondering if he will do to me whatever it is he just did to her.

A wide smile spreads across his face. “You’re a clever one, Maeva,” he says, reclining into his throne.

He motions for me to move closer, but I can’t seem to move my feet from where I currently stand.

“Come now,” his voice croons. “I won’t bite.

” He’s maintaining that glistening smile that would make any other woman grovel at his feet.

When I still don’t obey, the king gives a low whistle.

Suddenly, the most terrifying creature appears in front of me.

It wears a black cloak obscuring the view of its body that I am sure is just as hideous as its face.

The creature is skeleton-like, but with rotting flesh and exposed tendons.

It’s the eyes that are the most unsettling—blood red, and they don’t blink, as there aren’t eyelids to shield them.

It reaches a clawed, skeletal hand toward my face, attempting to touch me.

Horrified, I move away from the creature’s outstretched hand.

What in all the realm of Celestae is it?!

Abomination, Saoirse snarls.

“Domhnall,” King Tiernan calls out to the creature.

The creature—Domhnall—retracts its insidious fingers, turning to the dais.

Domhnall.

I’ve heard that name before, from the Cadre.

This is the king’s right hand?

Surely this is a joke. However, considering the king just permitted his queen to attack me, I’m certain this is the Scythe of Zulgalros—the demon of the Abyss.

It’s no wonder!

His looks alone could make half the army wither and die from shock.

“Yesssssss Ssssiirreeee?” Domhnall asks.

“Would you kindly escort Miss Cale to the dais? She seems to be stuck to that spot on the floor. Perhaps she needs some extra motivation ,” the king commands.

Domhnall bows his head. “As you wisssssh,” he replies.

Then his claw-like fingers wrap around my arm, yanking me forward. I must’ve flown because, in the blink of an eye, I’m standing a few feet away from King Tiernan and Queen Orla. The king’s white-knuckled grip on his throne is unsettling as he smiles at me.

“Now, that’s better,” King Tiernan says. Turning his gaze toward his creature, he dips his head. “Thank you, Domhnall. You may join me now and kindly release Maeva’s arm. We wouldn’t want it to be bruised from your grip before the Masquerade of Shadows, now would we?”

Domhnall hisses, releasing my arm. Then, as if he were one with the mist itself, he vanishes—reappearing at the king’s side.

The pair of them are quite terrifying: a ruthless king and his bloodthirsty demon-creature.

My sweaty palms grab the sides of my beautiful gown—now worse for wear after my encounter with Orla.

“Now that I have your full attention, Maeva,” King Tiernan’s powerful voice booms across the expanse. “I require a rare artifact—a diadem—and I need you to retrieve it for me.”

I blink incredulously at the king.

He brought me here because he wants me to retrieve an artifact?

Well, if he simply desires more jewelry, perhaps I can appeal to his vanity and go back to Aurelius.

“I’ll reward you handsomely if you are successful?—”

“Forgive me, my king,” I interrupt. “But you already possess many beautiful jewels upon your crown and in your decor. Surely, you have no need for another to add your collection?”

His jaw ticks. “Are you refusing to obey?” he growls in a lower tone. The amber in his eyes glows as tendrils of shadow leak out from around him. Any kindness in his features is now gone as he glowers at me.

Siorai, save me.

“I apologize for my impertinence,” I say, bowing low. “I just can’t comprehend why I must be the one to retrieve it. Surely, you have servants that could fetch it for you, or perhaps the Cadre?”

“No,” he deadpans. “It must be you!” Then, he releases a breath, as well as his grip on the throne. His irritated features soften as the shadows retreat within him. “It must be you, my darling,” he whispers. “You’re the only one capable of finding it.”

I scoff incredulously. “The diadem?” I ask. “Is it not in a market somewhere?”

“It is not just a diadem, Maeva,” he chastises.

“It’s an artifact as old as time itself—constructed by the god, Siorai.

It’s called the Crògemma, the blood gem.

I’ve searched for years with no success…

until recently. I know of its whereabouts, but the Crógemma is protected by magic that can only be accessed by the one foreseen to awaken the Na Fìrèin. You’re my last resort, my darling.”

It must be very powerful if he desires it so badly. What power could this Crógemma possess that the king who commands the Drakhul wants it ?

“What does the Crògemma do?” I ask.

“That’ssssss none of your conccccccern, girl,” Domhnall bites out.

“Now, now, Domhnall,” King Tiernan coos. “She merely asked a question.” He returns his gaze to me before continuing. “It has endless possibilities. If you agree to this venture, I shall reward you beyond your wildest dreams.”

A dangerous quest to Celestae knows where on a hairbrained theory that I’m the only one to retrieve it?

What did the staff slip into the king’s tea today?

This request is absurd, even to my ears.

“And if I refuse your wager, my king?” I ask.

His nostrils flare. “That would be unwise,” he seethes.

Before I can open my mouth to speak, Domhnall rests a claw on the king’s shoulder.

“Perhapssss ssshe requiressss time to contemplate, Ssssssire. Let’s make it through the ball and speak of thisssss again later.

Sssssshe might be more willing to lissssten afterwardsssss,” he says, shooting a glare at me.

The king’s furrowed brow smooths instantly. “Indeed. After all, she’s the guest of honor. It would be such a pity for her to be locked in the dungeons during such a celebration.” His tone is full of warning.

Tiernan flicks a hand, and the throne room doors fly open, allowing Laisren, Riordan, and Emyr to join us. They quickly march in, taking positions around me.

“We’ll speak again the morning after the ball,” the king announces. “Until then, you’re free to roam the grounds as long as you have one of the cadre with you. Do consider what I’ve said, my darling.”

With a wave of his hand, he dismisses us. My feet can’t carry me away quickly enough.

Remember what I said, Tiernan’s voice whispers in my head.

I turn toward the dais, and the king offers a small wave.

Did he…

Did he just speak to me?

I turn quickly, descending the stairs as hastily as my feet will carry me in this gown.

Perhaps it’s just my imagination because that is yet another ability the king of Zulgalros shouldn’t be able to possess.

Yet, if he does…

What does that mean for Zulgalros and Malvoria—or worse, for Celestae?

What could the Crógemma allow him to wield or destroy?

It’s my fate to awaken the Na Fìrèin, who will usher in a new era of freedom, yet this doesn’t feel like an honor…

It feels like a prison adorned in beautiful packaging.

One thing is certain: I’ll never escape my fate.