Page 75 of Return of the Darkness
“Yes.” Sallos leaned forward on his knees, clasping his hands together.
“But if our power is similar because he is fae…”
“Which gods do you think were messing around trying to create humans first?” Sallos asked, his eyes intent. Elisara looked up and met them.
“Sitara and Sonos.” She collapsed back in her seat. There truly were other lands out there. Xyliar and Carvyre, home to races created by Sitara and Sonos. She could only assume the particular gifts of the fae on Carvyre were linked to Sonos’s own gifts.
“Which is why my people worship the kind of power you have—the same power that started our lineage.” Elisara quickly looked back at Sallos.
“Your lineage?”
Sallos snapped his fingers with a grin. Elisara pushed back into her armchair as she watched his canines sharpen and the tips of his ears develop into points.
“Sallos Abexu, disgraced Prince of Xyliar at your service.” Sallos bowed in his chair and looked up at Elisara from beneath his lashes. “I believe you’ve met my brother.”
Chapter Fifty
Larelle
The fragrance of the clematis plant from the terrace drifted through the open glass doors, where a bird chirped above it. Slowly, Larelle opened her eyes to the morning sun. A weight pressed against her waist, and she glanced down at Alvan’s hand splayed across her bare stomach, holding her close.
“Good morning,” he murmured, burying his head in her hair.
“Morning,” Larelle whispered, so he could fall back to sleep. A grin marked her face when she thought of last night. Before she reached for the discarded silk robe on the floor beside her bed, she covered her mouth as a laugh escaped. This was how it felt to be falling in love—giddy, childlike, and floating on air. Complete surrender.
“Where are you going?” Alvan groaned as she slowly lifted his hand from her stomach and slid from the bed. He rubbed her back while she sat on the edge of the bed before pulling her into his arms.
“I have to meet with the lords to discuss the plans for the Amoro evacuation.”
“I should be there,” Alvan sighed, shifting behind her. Larelle turned to plant a hand on his chest, her robe lowering further as she rose to kiss his lips.
“I’m sure I can let you off. I am the queen, after all,” she whispered. Alvan’s hand brushed her back until he wove his fingers into her hair, holding her close and kissing her harder. He groaned at her absence as she pulled away and padded over to the mirror on her vanity. Alvan shuffled up against the headboard, rustlingthe sheets. He watched as she sat down at the vanity and pulled the robe over her shoulder where it had slipped. Larelle’s hands paused as she stared at a mark on her chest. Frowning, she traced her fingers over the scar—a symbol she did not recognise. It was like the one on Nyzaia’s palm. It held a different series of shapes, more circular than triangular. Larelle’s eyes widened, and she turned to look at Alvan.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. Larelle stared at his bare chest, which was absent of a scar. No sign of a celestial tie existed between them. Larelle fastened her robe.
“Nothing.” She smiled. “When you’re ready, would you mind checking on Zarya? She’ll probably be asleep for at least another few hours. This is rather early for her.” Alvan nodded and slid back into the sheets. Larelle felt sick to her stomach with the weight of the unknown. She ran a hand under her robe again, over the small mark covering her heart. It didn’t make sense. The passage Nyzaia read on celestial ties detailed it was anointed when two beings finally acknowledged their connection and allowed their essences to merge. Larelle acknowledged her connection with Alvan, but he had no power, no essence for it to derive from. He had no mark, either.What do celestial ties really signify?
Larelle opened the drawer of her vanity to pull out hair clips. Her eyes caught on the copper floral pin Osiris gave her when he handed it over with the promise Zarya would know how to contact him. Perhaps the princess should wear it while trying. Larelle turned it over in her fingers, staring back at her reflection and the scar on her chest. She thought celestial ties were formed when two people shared a destiny. PerhapsAlvan is your destiny,Nerida had said.But if Larelle was not tied to Alvan, who was she tied to?
***
She is the prophesied of Th--Larelle read the neatlyinked calligraphy again.My observations make it clear she is the child that will one day cause the return of–Larelle slammed the book shut. Larelle had been trying to read the book Alvan had taken from Vivian for at least an hour but the combination of incredibly slanted calligraphy and the variations between Larelle’s language and another made for an infuriating task. The first few pages she deciphered read like a children’s story about great beasts and saviours. Larelle could not place its importance, aside from the occasional scribble of Zarya’s name in the margins. How did Vivian know another language? Was she perhaps someone who hailed from another land too? It only seemed to prove Nyzaia’s theory that Ithyion never existed.
“Mumma!” Zarya’s call interrupted her reading. Larelle could tell by the strain in Zarya’s voice that something had happened, but she relaxed at the accompanying footsteps. Alvan was with her. A moment later, Zarya bound round the corner of the open door, her eyes aglow. Osiris’ copper pin on her dress caught the light.Thank Nerida the lords had left five minutes before,Larelle thought. She not yet explained Zarya’s ability to them.
Zarya’s grin told Larelle she had good news. The queen remained patient as Zarya hugged her and pulled back, bouncing on her feet.
“What is it, Zarya?” Larelle asked, holding her daughter's hands to keep her still. She buzzed with energy until the glow in her eyes slowly faded.
“Ossie is coming!” She giggled, attempting to pull her hands free to clap them. Larelle looked over her head at Alvan’s wary expression; they needed more information.
“When, Zarya? I need you to tell me what happened when he spoke to you. It’s important, sweetheart.” Zarya stopped bouncing and twirled a curl in her hair.
“I was in a different place than last time! It was so much prettier, mumma! All the buildings were white and sparkly, and there were purple banners everywhere—you know I love purple!”
“You do! It’s yourfavouritecolour,” Larelle exaggerated, tryingto match her daughter’s enthusiasm. Zarya grinned.
“I could hear the sea, so I walked down all these pretty white streets until I found sand, which was nearly as white as the buildings! But no one was there.”
