Chapter Forty-Eight

C HAPTER F ORTY-EIGHT

Dawn has just begun to unfurl across the horizon as I pierce the cool morning air on Fernah’s back. Beside me, Darius is in his dragon form, moving at a graceful speed as his scales shimmer between silver and gold from the sunrise.

A few days ago, a letter from the Aerian palace confirmed our meeting.

Nearing Aeris, we soar over mountains and winding rivers that glisten from afar before the palace slowly emerges from the mist atop the floating land. As I glance at Darius, his mighty wings cutting through the sky, my heart begins to thrum with a mixture of trepidation and resolve. I hope that our meeting with the Aerian leaders goes well.

It’s our only chance to form an alliance against potential enemies.

As we descend towards the palace bridge, the first rays of sunlight glint off the curved windows overlooking the fields.

A few guards are in armour patrolling the open entrance as we land, and I unbuckle myself from Fernah. She growls at one of the guards as they move towards me, and I chuckle, petting the side of her body.

‘Should I be jealous you decided to ride another dragon?’ Darius appears beside me, rolling his shoulders back.

I flash him a playful smirk in response, ready to exchange our usual banter, when suddenly, a mysterious woman in a captivating burgundy dress approaches us, her hands concealed behind her back.

‘The leaders eagerly await your presence in the grand throne room.’ She turns, expecting us to follow.

Darius and I depart from Fernah, gliding through the corridors adorned with artwork that I don’t remember seeing the last time I was here. In the vivid paintings, a fierce clash unfolds between majestic red phoenixes and their grey counterparts with soulless eyes that I can only assume are the Rocs.

As Darius and I enter the throne room, both doors swing open. We pause atop the phoenix-shaped marble flooring as we make our way to the room’s core. Soldiers surround the entire chamber, and the leaders are ahead of us on their thrones, with Hira’s seat in the centre vacant.

My chest burns with uncompromising anger, but I stamp it down as much as possible by plastering on a friendly smile.

‘Nara.’ Col is the first to speak, her dark eyes already assessing me from head to toe. ‘We weren’t sure you would come.’

Her sister Ara straightens in her seat, her staff glistening bright red.

‘As I mentioned in the letter,’ I reply coolly, ‘we truly need your help.’

‘Why?’ Col says flatly. ‘Were the Elves already taken?’

Snickering and laughter erupt from Ara and the other warriors around the room.

I curl my hand into a fist at my side, blood pumping fast within my veins as I try to calm myself.

As soon as the laughs stop, I say, ‘Hedris is threatening our position on the throne.’

Col doesn’t seem to care. ‘Pity,’ she remarks dryly. ‘Perhaps he has a reason for doing that.’ Her gaze goes to Darius beside me, and I begin to lose all feeling in my hand. ‘You don’t exactly seem fit to be the new king of Emberwell.’

I glance over at Darius; his worried eyes had only been on me this whole time. When he sees my scrunched-up fist, a sudden vicious gleam flickers across his gaze. ‘You’re right,’ he tells the leaders. ‘I’m not.’ He turns to them and starts wandering around the chamber. ‘I was a criminal, and still am, if you think about it.’

The warriors are on immediate alert, eyeing him suspiciously.

‘As a matter of fact . . .’ Darius stops and slowly spins on his heel. ‘I already have my eyes on various things I could steal inside this palace.’

His admission has Col and Ara’s faces burning.

‘And what is stopping you?’ Ara says, her tone icy in comparison.

Darius offers her a smug smile. ‘Certainly not your guards.’ He then shrugs. ‘Or you.’

He’s testing them; anyone else would be foolish to, but not Darius. He’s had years of experience.

I would know.

‘Clearly you agreed to this meeting only to reject whatever we might offer you.’

Ara stirs uncomfortably at what Darius is accusing them of.

‘Your intention is to humiliate us – or, more specifically, my wife.’ He looks over his shoulder at me, then back at Ara and Col. ‘That doesn’t sit well with me . . . So , I suggest we restart this meeting – you can listen to every word she says, then reconsider your response.’

He can’t see it, but the pride and awe that courses through my veins is formidable.

‘Your wife caused a great deal of stress to our people when she stayed here,’ Col says, her cruel gaze cutting towards me. ‘Forgive us if we are not inclined to accept your suggestions.’

I take a bold step forward. ‘But you were inclined to accept Aurum’s offers when he took us back to Emberwell, weren’t you?’

‘It was you or our people.’ Ara lifts her chin. ‘What loyalty do you have to us?’

Unbelievable. ‘He killed Hira.’

‘Maybe she deserved it,’ Ara says simply, as if Hira meant nothing to her. ‘She birthed a child with a human, despite the Aerian rules stating that the warriors chosen to rule the land cannot marry, nor bear a child. She wasn’t worthy of the title that was bestowed upon her.’

‘But she was your sister, and Lorcan is your nephew—’

‘He is an abomination who is not welcome back here,’ Col interrupts, her verdict final.

I can only stare at them in horror. It’s surprising how Lorcan’s heroic act of saving us from Aurum has resulted in such extreme shunning from those who are meant to be his relatives. I knew that the leaders were mad, but not to this extent.

‘Hira would not have wanted this,’ I say quietly, but still loud enough for them to hear me.

Col leans forward in her chair, her dark eyes narrowing. ‘And how do you know what Hira would have wanted? We were her sisters, her guides. You were nothing to us.’

‘If you were her sisters, then you should know she loved Lorcan dearly and would have never wanted you both to deny him his true heritage,’ I counter, willing my voice to sound strong and firm.

‘He deserves to be here,’ Darius says with finality, but the two Aerians do not seem to accept that as their knuckles whiten against the arms of their thrones.

Ara turns to Col and they begin a heated discussion that does not reach our ears.

After a minute, Ara gets the final word and Col sits back and stares at us silently, her expression hardening.

‘We will allow Lorcan’, she starts, much to her displeasure, ‘to return to Aeris whenever he wishes, but he will never inherit Hira’s place, and we will most definitely not join your kind.’

I can sense Darius on the verge of offering a retort, but I gently touch the fabric of his sleeve. His eyes snap towards me as I shake my head. Uncertainty swirls in his gaze as if the Aerians might truly be our only shot, but he knows what I’m thinking. He can see it in my expression.

Lorcan matters more. Their connection runs deeper, whether by blood or not. And he shouldn’t be exiled from the place his real mother came from.

At that moment, a solitary clap reverberates through the hall, capturing our attention, and we all turn our heads towards the source of the sound.

Kirian steps out from the shadows, reminding me of how he first introduced himself back in Thalore. He still looks the same. That enigmatic stare in his eyes, and the pale skin tone that matches his softened tousled mane. His piercing gaze lands on the Aerians, shadowed slightly by the dark locks falling across his forehead. The only difference I can see in him now is that he does not look as relaxed as he was in the comforts of his home, wearing a simple shirt and waistcoat. This time, he wears a black coat adorned with a ruffled, cascading jabot, and black leather breeches that hug his muscled form.

Ara and Col rise from their thrones at once while the other warriors unsheathe their weapons, but Kirian doesn’t so much as blink in their direction.

‘Well, that was dramatic,’ he says. ‘I was beginning to wonder if a fight would break out. A shame it did not.’ He glances at me. ‘You must be stepping into your role as future queen, Naralía.’

I narrow my eyes, distrusting his sudden appearance.

‘One must not express such atrocious behaviour,’ he mocks. ‘Or is that a rule that applies only for the princesses of Terranos?’ He chuckles. ‘I can never keep up.’

‘How did you get in here?’ Col demands as Kirian drags his gaze to hers.

His smile is sharp enough to bite someone’s head off. ‘A little Elf told me they would be here.’

Arlayna .

‘I would have gone straight to Emberwell, but I had a feeling that you Aerians would turn down their proposal for an alliance.’

Even from a distance, I can see Col’s eye twitch. ‘We are too busy to form any alliances with them.’

Kirian narrows his eyes. ‘Yes . . . but not too busy to form alliances with the Rocs. Or so I heard.’

Silence.

He lets out a deep sigh. ‘Shame, really. Perhaps if you weren’t so closed-minded, we could find a way to help one another.’

‘ Leave .’ Col glares at each of us. ‘All of you.’

Kirian’s low, derisive chuckle does nothing to ease Col’s irritation. ‘We will, but first, why don’t you direct me to the nearest town?’ He glances our way. ‘I heard the food here is outstanding.’