Page 9 of Queen of Legends and Lies
My aching legs carry me across the room, bare feet padding silently on the thick rug until I reach the balcony doors. I throw them open, craving the chill of the early morning air.
A wrought iron and stone staircase spirals upward, inviting me higher. Curiosity wins over exhaustion, and I climb.
Atop the roof, the black velvet sky stretches endlessly. A gust of wind teases my hair and whispers secrets of freedom in my ear. I lift my gaze to the stars, each one a distant flame in the cold tapestry of the heavens. Their light remains constant and unwavering, unlike the flicker of my fire magic, which seems inconsequential by comparison.
My thoughts drift back to Sterling, his stern face softened only in the moments we shared alone. He would’ve stood tall and commanding in these new rooms. Moved through them with a grace born not of etiquette studies as a prince but long hours on the training fields as a soldier.
He was born for this, not me. I was raised as a caged bird, with only Leesa as a friend.
My chest tightens. I clutch the stone parapet, the edges biting into my palms. This was supposed to be his coronation, his moment of triumph. Instead, I’m here, swimming in royal luxury I never wanted, while he’s?—
No.
I shove the thought away, refusing to spiral into despair. Still, the fear lingers, gnawing at the edges of my resolve.
I failed him.
And now, he’s lost, caught in a web of mind control that pitted him against us. Against me. My heart aches with the weight of it, with the love I still hold for a man who’s become my enemy.
How did we get here? After everything that happened to us, this was supposed to be our time together. His brother, the late King Jasper, ordered Sterling to pose as my flight instructor at Flighthaven and kidnap me away from Xenon.
Jasper intended to force me to marry him to solidify his claim to the throne his family stole from mine centuries ago. He had high hopes of producing dragoncaller heirs before the drachen attacked the palace.
After Jasper’s self-sacrificing death, Sterling and I no longer had to hide the truth of our relationship or how perfect we were for each other. His ice to my fire. His battlefield experience to my studies. All the obstacles between us disappeared, allowing Sterling to declare our betrothal. No one and nothing should’ve been able to keep us apart.
A few more tears escape my tired eyes, tracing hot paths down my cheeks. Angrily, I swipe them away. If only I could’ve gotten close enough. My tears would’ve saved him.
I glare up at the sky. “Damn you, Sterling. What am I supposed to do without you?”
But the stars don’t answer, and the wind offers no relief.
There’s just me, Lark Axton, the crown princess of a kingdom in turmoil, standing alone on a rooftop and yearning for a love that’s slipped through her fingers like smoke.
The stars above blur as the biting chill of the early morning seeps into my bones. I clench my jaw, steeling myself against the hollowness twisting in my gut. I can’t stand here all night, lost in the what-ifs and if onlys.
With a heavy sigh, I descend the spiral staircase, the stone cool under my bare feet.
Inside, the opulence inside is suffocating. And the bed looks more like a coffin than a place for rest. Nonetheless, I sink into its embrace.
My mind races with plans and strategies that dissolve before they can take shape. How do I save a man who’s become my nemesis? How do I cleanse a land that seems to revel in its own corruption?
Fatigue starts to claim me, each blink heavier than the last. My heart aches with every beat. A constant reminder of the love lost. “Help me find the way,” I pray to the dark as the early light of dawn bleeds into my surroundings.
I drift off, thoughts tethered to a man who needs saving and a kingdom that needs healing.
Chapter Four
A sea of night, where dreams drift like boats on a silent tide, cradles my being. Somehow, I feel both formless and attached to my physical body.
I’m aware of myself and my surroundings, but there’s nothing to touch and not even a hint of light to anchor myself to.
I’m all alone.
The ache for Sterling is a compass needle in my chest, spinning wildly, seeking true north. I push that longing out into the void, calling to him across the distances that separate our souls. If nothing else, I can dream of him. Our time training together. Nights spent in each other’s arms. Anything to erase the memory of fighting against him, of that emotionless face as he carried out Xenon’s orders.
I miss you so damn much.
Then, it happens.
