Page 58 of A Sun Scorched Bloom

"I found her like this," the maid who had left to get help said, her teeth chattering so hard that Lea felt the urge to create a fire to warm her. "Her throat was slit clean open, and her body was cold. She was already gone, but the babe… It kicked me. I swear I felt it kick. Can you help it?"

There was no response for several moments as Lea felt another pair of hands join hers against Queen Emmaline’s belly. Another kick, firm and vigorous. Lea felt a fire ignite next to them, burning hot and strong despite the rain pouring around them.Magic, Lea realized.

"Gods above," the maid’s friend said, and Lea’s eyes snapped open.

This isn’t possible, Lea whispered in shock. But it had to be, because she knew that voice like she knew the sound of the rain. There, kneeling right next to her with her hands brushing against Lea’s, was her own mother.

Adelaide was younger, even more beautiful than Lea remembered her. Her mother would have had to be from a pure Fae bloodline to have survived for as long as she did, to have aged as little as she had. It didn’t seem possible, yet there was no mistaking that it was her mother’s concerned face she gazed upon. Lea’s heart somehow lept and crumbled simultaneously, a mixture of joy and searing longing pounding in her chest.

"Mom," Lea cried, allowing the power of her love for her mother to strengthen her. Death’s grip on the baby faltered, and Lea slammed a shield around the baby, refusing to let it take hold again. Her light was eclipsed, but still she forced healing energy into the baby’s body. It felt like breathing life into the child, an exhale of pure power.

"Mom," Lea cried again, praying to the goddess to let her mother see her. If she could just give her one more hug, or maybe let her know she was okay, maybe Lea could heal the wound in her heart that still bled from missing her.

Adelaide looked around, and hope warmed Lea’s heart, but her eyes quickly moved past where Lea knelt, settling on the same gardening shears that Lea had contemplated using before the maid had appeared. Except she’d have used them without hesitation had they not been so dirty. Adelaide grabbed the shears anyway, pulling them open and hooking the curved edge of the blade against the queen’s left hip bone.

"You can’t." The maid placed a hand on Adelaide’s arm, stopping her. "Infection will rise."

Adelaide’s eyes filled with tears.

It doesn’t matter,Lea realized as her mother said the same.

"The queen is dead," her mother said as a solitary tear broke free from the confines of her eyelids and rolled down her cheek. "But we can still save her daughter. Look away, if you must." The maid did look away, but Lea did not as her mother ripped the shears through the queen’s flesh, slicing through muscle and fascia. She watched as Adelaide skillfully pushed away the bladder, then much more carefully cut open Emmaline’s womb with the same blade, so very careful not to nick the baby.

Lea lifted her hands, allowing her mother to take over the burden of saving the babe. She collapsed in exhaustion as her mother pulled the baby, so very tiny, from her mother’s womb. Her skin was a perfect pink, and a wail left her mouth as Adelaide used her apron to wipe the fluid from the baby’s face. She hooked a finger into her mouth, expertly clearing her airway before ripping a piece of the moonflower vine away and tying off the umbilical cord.

"It’s not possible…" her mother whispered, bundling the baby in her apron and rocking her back and forth. "She should be dead. I should have had to revive her, at the very least."

"A miracle," the queen’s maid whispered as she bent down and kissed the queen’s hair.

"I don’t understand—" Adelaide’s thoughts were cut off by the baby's cries. She shushed her gently, placing a finger in her mouth and allowing her to suck.

"Adelaide, Delphine, why are you outside in this rain? What in the goddess’s name…" a soft, lyrical voice pierced through the night, trailing off into silence.

"Genevieve, stop. Do not look."

The baby began to wail again.

"Nonsense. What is—" A woman appeared at the edge of the garden. Lea had expected a stranger, another maid. Who else would be wandering the castle grounds at such a late hour? Instead, she watched in horror as Gray’s mother, Genevieve Nestruir, rushed toward the queen’s body, arms in front of her, with shadows spinning in her hands. Hands that were pointed straight at Lea’s mother.

"No!" Lea threw out her own power on instinct, her shadows wrapping around Queen Genevieve’s and pulling them away from her mother and the baby. Asnapresonated through the garden as the queen’s eyes widened, her hands clutching her chest as she dropped to her knees.

Unfamiliar magic mixed with Lea’s, flinging her backward with the force of it returning to her body. Lea’s head cracked against the ground, her vision blurring as she heard her mother’s voice once more.

"Genevieve! No!"

Lea’s ears rang, pain spreading through her limbs from the wound inside her chest, the crack she had widened as she’d ripped into her own being to find the power hidden there.

"Follow the darkness," Lea whispered as she closed her eyes, giving into the heaviness filling her head, praying for sleep, if only for a moment, to rest.

Chapter 39

Lea

Leawokeexactlywhereshe had fallen, the statue of the moon goddess standing next to her, her ethereal stone face staring down with blank eyes.

"Mom," Lea whispered through the lump in her throat. Her mother had been there, had somehow been at the castle when Queen Emmaline was murdered so long ago. It was too much to process, too heavy to dissect. Every fiber of Lea’s body ached to see her mother again, so deep it was physically painful. She pressed a hand against her stomach as if it could help hold her together. It was so cruel, to have had those brief moments in which she could see her, hear her, but not speak to her or touch her. Heart aching, she reached out and touched the statue, praying it would take her back, even if just for a moment.

Tentatively, her fingers met the rough, cold stone. "Please," she whispered, holding back tears as she waited. She pushed more firmly, her fingers blanching from the pressure, but the world did not spin, and her feet remained firmly on the ground.

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