Page 69 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

My chest tightens at the sight of my brother—and the many memories soured. “So they’ve allied with Queen Neilina. Zander has betrayed his realm and his people and—”

“Queen Neilina is dead.”

My eyes widen with shock. That news, I was not expecting. The Ybarisan ruler has been a bane to Islor for nearly five hundred years and believed impossible to kill, thanks to her wall of Shadows and elementals, and her ability to choke the air out of one’s lungs before they ever got too close. “How?”

“According to our sources, by her daughter’s own hand. Queen Romeria now rules Ybaris, and it would seem she and the exiled king work together.” His pause is lengthy. “She is your key caster.”

“What? No, that is impossible! She is Ybarisan, elven born.” I lean on the pedestal for support as I absorb his claim. Even as I deny it out loud, in the back of my mind, I think I’d already put together the pieces. Romeria herself had told me as much, hovering over my bleeding chest outside the Goat’s Knoll.

I don’t even know how to play draughts.

Ever since the night she was brought back to life by the High Priestess, there has been something inexplicable about her. Wendeline warned me that she was not the same Romeria who arrived here from Ybaris. That blasted, conniving priestess. How long did she know?

“Impossible, and yet it is true. Tuella watched the battle on the night of your blood moon and there was no mistaking her silver eyes or the way she fought alongside your people with the elements. All four of them.”

I have no response.

Has Zander known what she was all this time? Is this why he protected her? Is this why he was willing to lose everything? Because she could bring an end to our blood curse, a dream he’d carried for too long. And look at that, he succeeded. But what will be the cost, now that the Nulling is open? Our people and our lands will be plagued by monsters for the next fifty years? A hundred? Who knows how long.

Was it worth it?

“Show me Cirilea,” I demand, adding a soft, “if you wouldn’t mind.”

The image in the pool of water goes dark as Tuella shuts her eyes.

“She is searching for another kell. We have many in your lands,” King Cheral says softly.

“What else can she connect with?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He watches his conjurer with admiring eyes. “Isn’t she a marvel? I was skeptical at first, when my men returned from Udrel with her. But she has proven herself beyond value many times over.”

“You knew of Cirilea’s plight, even while the gates were closed and messages halted, didn’t you?” Because he has Tuella and these birds at his disposal.

He hums his answer. “Of Cirilea, and of the hidden golden city in the mountains.”

“Ulysede?”

“If that is what it is called. Unfortunately, since your blood moon, our kells can no longer get too close. The creatures who live within do not allow it.”

Tuella’s eyes open again and a new vision appears in the pool, of Fortune’s Channel and the great stone wall of Cirilea ahead.

The bird sails past the docks, showing empty ports. There isn’t so much as a skiff to sail. The quiet streets beyond wear scars of a recent clash—char marks where fires erupted, peasants tossing buckets of water over the cobblestones to wash away blood, debris uncollected. Wagons brim with bodies, but I can’t be sure if those are from battle or the mortals I had executed. The odd body still dangles from a light post, here and there.

The devastation grows worse the closer we get to the castle grounds—the obvious target of this rebellion.

“What did that?” A path of destruction mutilates the royal garden, splintering trees and shattering stone fountains. A large swath of it has turned to ash. Workers attempt to clean, but it is far beyond repair.

“This happened before your blood moon, when our eyes were on the eastern lands,” King Cheral admits.

I’m unable to help myself. “You mean when your army of cowards massacred soldiers sleeping in their tents rather than meet them on the field.”

The guards behind me shift. Surely, I’ll pay for that gibe when they escort me back to my cell.

“That was the price of war, when every advantage is necessary. Whatever or whoever did this, I would not want to make them my enemy.”

The kell swerves toward the quiet castle. A figure stands on the terrace of the king’s chamber, overlooking the devastation, the sun’s rays gleaming off the crown atop his head.

My body tenses. “May we get a look at this new impostor king? Perhaps I might recognize him.”

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