Page 71 of The Queen

Lex, a step behind me, hesitated and didn’t answer.

I waited, but the silence grew tense. With my hands on my hips, I stopped, turning toward him.

He came to a halt, his face a granite mask. “When your parents died, and you were gone, the shield failed. There was no protection. Almost everything of value that was spared from the fire was sold to fund the construction of the underground city. Sacrifices had to be made. My father did the best he could.”

He acted like he thought I’d be mad that they hadn’t protected the kingdom’s material wealth, but that wasn’t it at all.

“You were just a boy, Lex. There was nothing you could have done. And even if you could’ve stopped it, I’d rather lives be saved than a few pieces of wood and canvas.” I reached out and took his hand, tugging him beside me. “This is the fault of Altaira and the Imperatrix, not you.”

With his hand in mine, and Grey on my other side, we continued to explore.

The halls were bare and walls blackened, but otherwise, much as I remembered. Rooms were either empty or filled with remnants of burned furniture and ruined debris. And everything was coated in ten years’ worth of dust.

I threaded my way through the devastation of the bottom level, on the hunt for anything of use. There were salons and morning rooms, lounges, offices, and reading areas, but there was nothing left in them, and no memories sparked other than a few scattered pleasant moments spent as a child.

The stairs to the second floor were shadowed and ominous, but I pushed through my hesitation and marched up the curving stone steps. They led to the private spaces and living quarters of the royal family. This was where our cherished personal time was spent and the memories that could haunt me.

Through the charred remains of a set of double doors at the top of the stairs was a grand balcony overlooking the ballroom. When I was young, I’d hidden behind the fancy banister to spy on my parents’ parties. There was nothing left but ash and dust. The wooden overlook was burned to blackened charcoal.

Lining the southern hall, where once beautifully appointed guest rooms had been, were doorless stone boxes. Their barren walls were stained with soot.

Opposite that was the royal wing.

My fingers slipped from Lex’s grip and off of Grey’s arm, and I stepped in front of them. This wide corridor was unlike the rest. It was thick with memories. As if on their own, my feet flew across the stone floor.

“Saphyra, wait! It’s dangerous,” Lex called out behind me.

At the end of the hall, only charred splinters remained of the doors that shuttered the tower library. The burned debris clawed at my pants, scratching my skin through the material, but I rushed through it, disregarding the warning.

Curved walls, once laden with tomes, were desolate and black. Thirty foot tall shelves had hugged the edges of the circular room, but only their charred skeletons remained.

“How dare they? This was hundreds of years of original records. Thousands maybe.” Of all the things I’d seen, this was the worst. Hand written accounts of all the Queens before me had been kept here. It was all gone. Everything. Gone. “Why? Why do this?”

Big hands cupped my shoulders, and the warmth of Lex’s body supported my back. Grey’s concern hummed through the bond, and he came to my side.

“They took the books before they set it on fire. Only the furniture and bookshelves burned. I always assumed there was something in here they were looking for, so they took it all,” Lex said in an apologetic tone.

My heart crumpled. I loved this place.

Rainbow light danced across the floor, shining through leaded panes of broken glass, casting fragmented colored squares onto the soot covered floor.

That pattern.

I walked to the far end, placing a foot into the closest burst of light. Then I stepped into the next.

My mother sat at her desk, her journal set aside and forgotten. A gold datapad was propped in front of her, next to an old, dusty tome. She looked from one to the other, then back, her brows drawn together in concentration.

She noticed me playing hopscotch on the boxes of light and shadow the suns made on the floor and smiled. “Enjoy yourself now. It won’t be long before this is your task. Every line and every image must be preserved for all the generations to follow.”

“Yes, mama,” I whispered in reply.

Grey turned his attention from the ruined room to me. “Did you say something, little one?”

My eyes dropped to my rainbow illuminated boots. “I didn’t mean to. Just a passing memory.”

“You’re remembering.” Grey’s excitement bloomed through our connection.

Despite Grey’s smile, Lex’s brows furrowed with concern. “If it’s too much, we can slow down.”

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