Page 77 of Return of the Darkness
“All the other kingdoms,” Larelle breathed.
“Then where does Novisia fit?” Alvan asked. The map was less delicate than the others as Larelle picked up Novisia’s map and placed it against the wall. It fit perfectly in the centre of all six lands, surrounded by enough water that the outer border were still miles and miles from any of the other six kingdoms. It was perfectly centred in the middle.
“How did we never know?” Alvan asked. “How?”
“The curse hid memories,” Larelle breathed.
“But if this is Novisia, and there are six other kingdoms, where is Ithyion?” Alvan asked. Larelle placed a pin in the final corner of Novisia and backed away again.
“What if Ithyion never existed?” Larelle whispered. “We can’t trust anything Caligh ever said to us or our ancestors.”
Eyes wide, Alvan rubbed his face and took it all in. “Or what if this is Ithyion, and the entire kingdom never truly fell?”
Chapter Fifty-One
Soren
Thirty-seven days—the length of Soren’s banishment from Garridon so far after being stripped of her name and title. She had not spoken to her sister for thirty-seven days, though at least they had lived under the same roof for the last twenty-five. Staring out of the chamber window all day was becoming both a blessing and a curse, having to face Garridon every time she looked outside. On clear days, she saw the trees in the distance and mourned the comfort they provided.
While Soren had slept, Nyzaia received word from Larelle about all rulers evacuating to Mera, where they would spend the next month preparing for Osiris’s arrival. Nyzaia had not asked Soren to attend, nor had she told her not to after walking into Soren’s room at the Tabheri Palace to find her packing. The Queen of Keres had been guarded since their moment outside the temple—the moment she kissed Soren. Nyzaia did not trust her, not fully, but Soren was loyal and wanted to assist with finding Farid. Having a goal and someone to serve kept her grounded—it was all she had ever known no matter the lack of willpower or sanity involved. However, the one thing nobody had allowed was for Soren to attend the rulers’ meetings, though that mattered little. Soren lacked the focus to listen to numerous voices at once. Instead, she read or grew flowers in her palms to calm her mind. Nyzaia visited every evening, and nobody seemed to ask the Keres Queen why she did not dine with the other rulers, assuming her grief-stricken because of her unsuccessful search for Farid. When Nyzaia entered Soren’s rooms unannounced on their first night in Nerida, carrying a trayof meats, breads, and fruits, Soren did not ask either. She did not ask on the second or third night, or the twenty-fifth—two nights before the kingdom fell. They ate in silence again.
Everybody in the castle was on edge. While Larelle appeared relieved Osiris was coming to save them and their people, Elisara’s story of his brother, and the tale he had since relayed, made them all wary. An entirely different race of beings—Fae—existed with different factions of power, raising questions as to how powerful these new lands could be compared to Novisia’s rulers. They had suggested Elisara call upon him again to ask for more detail, but she refused, not since he had revealed his true heritage. Whether or not she was afraid of him or just truly believed what she continued relaying to them, that he would not willingly offer more information. Nobody seemed intent on pushing Elisara further, not with how blunt and short-tempered she had been of late. Soren supposed she would be the same in Elisara’s position. Speaking with a man—a fae, no less—who had shown his true teeth and revealed his ability to control minds did not sound appealing. Based on her experiences, Soren would have sided with Elisara, too, though nobody cared for her opinion. They steered clear of the fallen queen. Soren was sure it was because they wanted her dead for what she did to Caellum, and they couldn’t trust themselves to keep her alive.
“What was the name again, the place to cross reference?” Soren asked, rubbing her forehead. Her memory was short-lived from the trauma inflicted in her mind. Nyzaia often had to remind Soren of certain words while she stuttered or stared at a page for too long, but other than assisting with the task at hand, the pair spoke little.
“Q’Ohar,” Nyzaia said, not looking up from her book as she bit into a stone fruit. Soren’s eyes lingered for a second too long at the juice dripping down Nyzaia’s chin. The Queen of Keres lounged sideways on the armchair opposite Soren, with her legs swinging over the arm. In the evenings, she had taken to wearing fitted black trousers and a loose red shirt and wore her leathers and red sashduring the day. She had only worn her lehenga once at Larelle’s welcome dinner, another event Soren was not invited to. Seiko curled in front of Nyzaia’s chair, nudging her hand.
“Q’Ohar,” Soren repeated, frowning. Nyzaia’s eyes peeked over the red-bound book, watching Soren, waiting to see if she continued. When she didn’t, Nyzaia straightened.
“One of the lands on the map.” Nyzaia pointed at the book’s spine. “It’s the place all these books are about.” Soren blushed; it was such a simple thing to forget.
“Queen Larelle found them all in the church, along with others we also assume are the names of other lands,” Soren said, her voice rising slightly for confirmation.
“Exactly,” Nyzaia said. She dropped the fruit stone onto the table beside her and reached for the wine. Soren counted, waiting for the same nose scrunch Nyzaia always did after sipping from the glass. One… two... three... Next, she would say–“It’s nowhere near as good as Tabheri’s.” Soren smiled, having predicted Nyzaia’s words exactly. “Why are you smiling?”
Soren straightened and raised her book in front of her face before reaching to stroke Varna. The other three wolves were curled before the fire, but Tapesh had distanced herself from the pack with a sorrowful look in her eye, watching the flames.
“I’m not,” Soren mumbled, tracing a finger under the words.
“I can tell you’re lying.” Soren lowered the book to find Nyzaia staring at her with a raised brow. The flames from the fireplace made her eyes brighten as if they, too, were alight.
“I should hope so. It was your job once,” Soren quipped. Nyzaia’s eyes widened a fraction. “Sorry, I–” Soren had not meant to offend.
“Don’t apologise. It was getting boring without your snarky remarks,” Nyzaia said, turning the page. Soren almost stayed silent, but something felt relaxed between them.
“Good to know I’ve been boring you, your majesty,” Soren said, turning a page to examine a drawing. Although Nyzaia didn’treply, Soren glimpsed a faint smile on her face. Soren was on the eighth volume of the books. She had initially scanned for anything that might offer insight into the Isle of Gods, skipping past family trees, and accounts of battles and history. She needed only information that would offer them another way to reach the Isle of Gods and hunt for Farid. But Nyzaia had soon requested she switch her focus to Q’Ohar. Soren had not asked why, but Nyzaia had explained a brief reference to ‘Nefere of Q’Ohar’ in a different book. She relayed to Soren what Keres had revealed about Farid’s ancestors and resorted to focusing only on the books of that land.
“I remember three images after reading the name inMyths and Lies of Ithyion,” Nyzaia said. Slowly, Soren nodded, flicking through the pages for pictures first before continuing reading. Nyzaia had not found the book since the war began, though she claimed to doubt the accuracy now, given Caligh Servusian was the author. The book alternated between a language she knew and one she did not. Soren paused.
“Like these ones?” she asked. Nyzaia dropped her book on the table and leaned forward to reach for the one in Soren’s lap, grazing her hand against Soren’s. Her skin was warm from sitting close to the fire, and Soren tried to convince herself it was that very same flame that made her cheeks flush. Their eyes met briefly, making her wonder about Nyzaia’s thoughts. Sometimes, she was certain she knew the Keres queen’s thoughts, imagined them as clearly as if stood in her mind the same way Nyzaia had when they briefly connected in the bathing pool. The thought of the bathing pool and Nyzaia’s hands in Soren’s braids deepened her flush. Soren felt the spark ignite whenever they came into contact, but a look of regret always crossed Nyzaia’s features afterward, so Soren withdrew her hand. Nyzaia’s hand lingered a second longer before she returned her attention to the book.
“Yes!” She stood and aimlessly paced the room, staring at the pages. “When I saw them, they were all rather smudged—but these! I can see far more detail. Look.” Nyzaia reachedSoren in two strides and placed the book on Soren’s lap, pointing at the pictures. Soren tried to focus but was far too distracted by the spiced orange scent of Nyzaia’s soap. Nyzaia rested her arm on the back of her armchair, behind Soren’s neck, while the left gestured at the page, her body surrounding Soren’s.
“This person has two swords at their back. This one appears to have smoke around it, similar to Exandria, and this one.” Nyzaia pointed at the third illustration. “Look familiar?” The question refocused Soren, who squinted at the drawing.
“Like Farid’s wings,” Soren confirmed, looking up at Nyzaia. It was the first time in thirty-seven days that Soren saw her truly smile, a smile so bright it highlighted the whites of her teeth. “It’s something,” Soren whispered. Their faces were in such close proximity she could smell the fruit juice on Nyzaia’s breath. Nyzaia gulped. Soren clenched her hand around the edge of the book as Nyzaia’s eyes roamed her features. A knock sounded at the door, then. Nyzaia moved away as quickly as she’d dodge a sword in battle. She tucked her arms behind her back as Taryn, Sadira’s personal guard, entered.Shame.Guilt. Regret.Soren could practically taste Nyzaia’s emotions.
“Apologies, your Majesty. Your guard, Jabir, said you were up here, but I assumed you were alone.” Taryn bowed his head to the queen and backed away from the door. That was unsurprising, Jabir spoke little these days, keeping his grief to himself. Soren shifted in her seat.
