Page 13 of Her King

I woke in my bed the next morning, unsure if it had even been real. But now I know it was.

Niko says I might be tethered to all three realms—Alluvium, Runic, and Quietus. But I don’t know what that makes me. A bridge? A queen? Or a weapon?

The prophecy never promised peace. That’s what scares me most. It promised balance. And balance always comes with a price. Sacrifice is always needed to achieve what we want most.

I touch the center of my chest where my magik now coils like a second heartbeat. It doesn’t hum anymore. It throbs. Like it’s growing or waiting, except I’m not sure for what.

“Cassandra.”

I flinch at the voice. It’s soft, familiar, and wholly unexpected.

Arabella.

The elder witch from my coven steps out from between two willow trees, her pale hair catching the sunlight, her expression unreadable.

“I thought you were back in Alluvium,” I whisper.

“I came through a hidden gate,” she says. “I felt the rupture the moment your soul linked to this realm. To all the realms.”

She kneels beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face like a mother would, something my own mother never did.

“You were never just a High Priestess in waiting,” she says. “You were a key.”

“A key to what?” My voice trembles.

“To unlocking the power that binds worlds,” she whispers. “But, child, you have to choose what kind of door you open.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I know.” Her face is solemn. “How does the old adage go ... something about greatness being thrust upon us.”

I chuckle. “I know what you mean. It doesn’t offer any comfort, though.”

She presses something into my palm. It’s a stone, rough around the edges and glowing faintly. There are Fae runes, coven glyphs, and something darker etched into one jagged side.

“This came from the Oracle,” she says. “It’s a trinity shard. You’ll know when to use it.”

I close my hand around it and feel all three magiks surge through me. Runic feels light, Quietus feels like twisting shadows, and Alluvium has a wild pulse of freedom. My nose starts bleeding, and I wipe at it with my sleeve.

Arabella cups my cheek. “You must learn to control it before it controls you.”

“But how?”

“You stop waiting to be given power,” she says, rising. “And you start owning it. The shard isn’t just power,” Arabella murmured as she turned to go. “It’s a key. And perhaps a promise.”

I frown. “A promise of what?”

She smiled without answering. “That remains to be seen.”

I stare at her for long, tense moments, not knowing what I am supposed to say or how she expects me to react. All I know is that she knows more than she is telling me.

“What do you know?” I ask, my gaze connecting with hers. “I don’t have all the information, do I?”

“Have you ever heard the full prophecy?” she asks softly.

“No,” I reply with a shake of my head. “I only have the bits and pieces I gathered from Niko.”

“Here,” she says, pulling an old grimoire from inside a large bag she is carrying. She flips it open and turns the old pages before she finds what she is looking for and hands the grimoire to me.

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