Page 12 of Return of the Darkness
“Dehparh!”Osiris called. In the distance, his soldiers straightened into formation, and with a flourish of his hand, Osiris blanketed them, himself, and Arik in a fog of quickly dissipating shadows, leaving only the wet sands of Keres behind, and a cloud of uncertainty hanging over the rulers yet again.
Chapter Six
Sadira
Letting out a sigh of frustration, Sadira combed through her wet, tangled hair. She should have asked Nyzaia to dry it before they retreated to Tabheri Palace. With so much information to unpick, Larelle had suggested refreshing themselves back at the palace before reconvening. Sadira wished they were meeting tomorrow instead. After two battles, no sleep, and many uncertain discoveries, exhaustion was creeping in. Her emotions could not keep up with her body. With aching arms, she attempted to braid her hair again before slapping her lap and bowing her head.
“Allow me,” Caellum said. He rose from the bench on the balcony, where he had sat silently since their return, and gently squeezed Sadira’s bare shoulders. She did not even feel comfortable back in one of her off-the-shoulder gowns. Sadira sighed when Caellum gently combed his fingers through her golden hair, untangling the wet strands and stroking her scalp. As she watched in the mirror, Caellum expertly crossed strands of her hair into a thick braid that would eventually fall over her shoulder. After the revelation about his father and grandfather, he had been quiet. Restraining his emotions and thoughts seemed to be a natural result of his upbringing, though it pained Sadira to see his barriers were still up, especially with her. But he needed time to process.
“Where did you learn to braid hair so well?” asked Sadira. A small smile crept on Caellum’s lips as he met Sadira’s eyes in the mirror.
“I had three sisters and a distant mother. Elisara taught me so I could help them in the mornings orbefore balls.” Caellum’s smile faltered as they recalled Caligh’s admission. Sadira’s heart tightened, grieving the loss of his father and childhood.
“Do you think your mother knew?” Sadira whispered. Caellum shrugged.
“She was always distant. She ignored the abuse and stayed in her rooms. Maybe she didn’t want to accept who he had become. She would have noticed a sudden change, though.” Caellum reached for the sage green ribbon on the dressing table and secured the end of Sadira’s braid. “Aurelia once said he hadn’t always been the way he was. She remembered him being happy when she was a child.”
“Did she say much else?”
Caellum shook his head, and Sadira’s mind wondered to her own sister. Was she capable of calling her that after such betrayal? Her sister? Sadira wanted to forget Soren. It would be easier that way. Though it was not in Sadira’s nature to be cruel, which made the idea of what Nyzaia might do to Soren all the more difficult.It is the right thing to do, she tried to convince herself. If someone else had betrayed the realm, Sadira would have accepted the need for punishment, whether it was uncomfortable or not. It could not be different simply because she was raised with the traitor in question.
A knock sounded at the door, and Caellum called for them to enter. Jabir, one of Nyzaia’s guards, strode inside, lanky arms carrying rolls of parchment.
“I am to escort you to the war room,” he said solemnly. Most of his eyeline was hidden beneath sweeping dark hair, but Sadira made out the darkening skin below his eyes.
“Thank you. We will meet you in the hallway shortly,” Caellum returned, sighing and meeting Sadira’s eyes in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his chin onto her head. Warmth filled Sadira’s eyes as she blinked back tears, overwhelmed by the events from the last few days. Silent for a moment, they watched one another.
“I’m sorry. It doesn’t look like the coming months will be muchof a fairytale,” he murmured before kissing her head. Sadira smiled.
“Having you by my side makes it a fairytale for me.” He returned her smile, though it did not meet his eyes this time.
“They may want to discuss Soren,” he finally broke the silence again. Sadira glanced down, smoothing the thin green silk with her hands.
“If we can avoid it, I would like to,” she murmured. The reminder that she, too, had been oblivious to her own blood’s deceit. It sickened her. Soren had wanted the throne, and Sadira had warned Caellum as much, but never did she believe her darkness ran so deep. The only way Sadira could move forward was if she tried to forget her sister ever existed. Caellum lifted his chin and nodded.
“She is Nyzaia’s responsibility now,” he said, offering his palm to help her rise. Despite Soren not being her responsibility, Sadira could not help but wonder if she could have prevented her from taking this path.
***
Sadira heard the echoes of disagreement through the archway before Jabir pushed the wooden doors open for Garridon’s king and future queen. Despite the level of noise flitting back and forth, the room felt emptier without Elisara and Kazaar. Sadira glanced at the empty chairs on the right-hand side of the hexagonal turret room. While she had never been one to attend weekly worships on Doltas Island, she still placed a palm to her heart and sent a silent prayer for Elisara.
Caellum’s hand was a steady comfort as he guided her to the chair opposite. They were silent, trying to discern what had caused the disagreement between Nyzaia and Larelle, while Alvan and Farid occasionally chimed in. Nyzaia’s bangles clinked as she slammed her hand on a map of Novisia splayed across the table andreadjusted the fabric of her dark lehenga that had fallen with the movement. If it had not been for the flames burning in the sconces or the slight glow of the setting sun through the open windows, Sadira would have assumed Nyzaia donned black attire. Mourning, Sadira realised, before glancing around the room. No one else wore colours of mourning; the deepest shades of their realms. Larelle was in a purple gown, Alvan donned a vibrant blue jacket, Sadira’s wore a pale green dress. She hung her head, overcome with shame. She had not thought to show respect for Kazaar’s death. Even Jabir and Farid wore shades matching Nyzaia’s.
“I understand your frustration, Nyzaia. I do.” Larelle clasped her hands atop her stomach. “But try to see reason. She would be in no fit state to help.”
The flames in the sconces burned higher, raining sparks on the tiled floor. “Do not patronise me! I am as much a queen as you are, which means I can make the decisions that best suitmyrealm,” Nyzaia snapped.
“I am not talking down to you. But right now, we need to prioritise the kingdom as a whole—not our realms.”
Nyzaia spun to face Sadira and Caellum.
“She is acting as though she rules all four realms, not simply Nerida. She acted the exact same way on the sands—MY sands—deciding for all of us about the armies, Elisara, and Osiris.” Sadira and Caellum glanced at one another, unsure how to respond. While Larelle had been the most vocal on the sands, Sadira did not think badly of her for it. Out of everyone, it came to Larelle most naturally. Nyzaia scoffed.
“Of course, neither of you would side with me. We’ve never got along.” Nyzaia pointed at Caellum and then turned her flame-filled eyes on Sadira. “And you latched onto Larelle as soon as you arrived. Maybe you’re hiding something like your sister. Perhaps you’ll be responsible for Alvan’s death or Farid’s. Am I to lose someone else at the hands of a Mordane?”
“Enough!” Caellum slammed his fists on the table and rose fromhis chair. A thin crack splintered from where his hands met the wood, knocking over the goblets used as paperweights. Nyzaia straightened at his display of strength, and Sadira hoped she would take him more seriously. Silence fell, except for the table, which creaked from the impact. “You are not the only person in this room who has lost people, Nyzaia. Perhaps now you understand how I felt when I lost my siblings and you barely shed a tear, focusing only on the life you lost and not that of your family. Now, you understand grief can rear its head in many a form, and in you, it is your anger. You do not get to turn your grief on all of us or Larelle, who is easily the most intelligent of us all when it comes to untangling the web of lies we’ve been fed. You do not get to accuse me of clashing with you when you spent your adult life in the Red Stones, shielding yourself from friendships—how was I ever meant toknowyou enough to like you?” Nyzaia straightened at the table, glancing sideways at Farid, perhaps sensing something between their ties. “And you definitely will NOT speak to my future queen like she is nothing but dirt on your now, very well polished, sandals. You are so focused on the impact of Soren’s betrayals on yourself that you have not for one second stopped to consider how her sister may feel in all of this. If anyone has the right to feel angry about Soren’s allegiances, it is Sadira. Yet here she is, ready to plan to protect our kingdom, all while keeping her emotions in check. Perhaps you could learn something from her rather than berating her.” Sadira looked up at Caellum with watery eyes, pride blooming in her chest. He had come so far in the time she had known him. Not only did he speak as her future husband and fierce protector, he spoke as a king.
“Damn,” Nyzaia muttered. “Somebody grew a pair.” When she slumped back in her seat, Farid grazed her shoulder with his hand, prompting her to glance up at him with a nod. Larelle cleared her throat and sat beside Alvan, reaching for his hand. His smile did not meet his eyes.
