Page 51 of The Curse of a Kingdom
“Who knew your ego was this inflated?” he teased back, a warm feeling spreading from his stomach and through his body. Maybe he didn’t need to hide from her, just now when his darkness had been at a high point. Instead of fearing him, she had grounded him.
He paused at his problematic thoughts. It was beyond worrisome, especially since he knew near to nothing about her, other than she was Celeste’s daughter, a Beekeeper, and was engaged to his brother.
“Someone has been feeding said ego for a year. I blame him.” Her smile faltered after the words left her lips, and her eyes searched for something in his face that made the pit in his stomach grow.
Whatever she was looking for wasn’t there. A spark of a memory, perhaps. But his mind only drew blanks, only pieces of dreams that involved her body with much less clothing. His cheeks warmed, and he turned his gaze away.
“Ari says we should close the gate before another demon appears.”
He guessed Ari was the creature’s name, a much less impressive one than he’d thought. Who would name such a being of lifeAri? It felt like a dog’s name. The Beekeeper responded to her words as if called by them. The situation was bizarre, at the very least.
They didn't have to walk long before the gate came into view. In a land of nothingness, a wide black circle quivered with pent-up power, the wrongness of it palpable in the air.
They slowed down when the pressure of it kept them away. Voices speaking in tongues came from the other side.
“How do we close it?” he asked.
“Ari?”
The Beekeeper stood forward and lifted his arms in the air, sharp fingers spreading, and soon words came out of his mouth. It wasn’t something he had heard before, but the words caressed the back of his spine and were beautiful. A language of gods.
He soon realized that not only the Beekeeper’s aura surrounded him, but so did hers, blooming as bees descended from the sky. Orion's throat felt clogged as his own aura also billowed, and he was sure Nava's shocked expression mirrored his own.
Strings of yellow, black, and gold flowed between them, like ribbons of woven silk shimmering with magic. Nava’s fingers extended, and her power came in waves from the ground beneath her boots.
The creature kept chanting the same words in that language that soothed Orion’s darkened soul. He didn’t understand the direct meaning—or did he? His mind tickled with a distant understanding. He shouldn’t know what the words meant, but somehow he did. It signified the healing of this world, the closing of a gate between realms.
The dark portal closed another inch and then two more, zapping with magnetic power, now barely a sliver. Claws appeared in the black hole, trying to push through the small space, but soon it closed down, and black iron fingers fell to the ground without another sound.
The three of them stopped at once, and the ribbons of magic slowly faded away, back into their depleted bodies.
It had been a while since he’d felt this level of exhaustion. His legs trembled under the weight of his body, the ache of his shoulders apparent as he rolled them. Nava walked like a newborn fawn toward a nearby tree and leaned against it as her head thumped on the blacked texture.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a couple of deep breaths. This fatigue was unlike anything he had ever experienced, something that took his essence from the marrow of his bones. “How did I know what those words meant, and why did I know what to do? I have never heard that language before.”
“I didn’t know the language either, but I also knew what it meant,” she admitted, and her gaze traveled to the Beekeeper.
Silence followed, and Orion tightened his fists; his stomach churned. “What is he saying?”
“He said it’s the lost language of the Beekeepers. Only he knows it fully. Since we are a part of him, it passes the knowledge through the bond.”
His back straightened, and he became utterly still at her words. “What did you just say?”
Her skin turned a pale shade of gray, and her eyes dipped toward the ground, her teeth capturing her bottom lip with a sharp bite. “Um—so, perhaps you want to sit down? Or stay standing, no worries. It doesn’t make me more nervous or anything.” She cleared her throat. “Remember when I said I was a Beekeeper?”
He raised a brow expectantly. Of course he did; she had just dropped the bomb not an hour ago. “Yes.”
“There are always two Beekeepers in the world, and with the Zorren coming to this land intent on destroying it, the gods also assign a protector.” Nava lowered her gaze to the ground, avoiding him. “Our magic works together. They bonded us to protect the world from destruction.”
He stepped toward her, shaking his head. None of it made sense. “Does that have anything to do with me?”
She shifted, restless on her feet. He was closer now, and she hesitated to meet his gaze. “You are our protector, Arkimedes.”
His jaw slacked. “What?”
No, I am not.
She flinched, and he realized he had said the words out loud, but the churning of his stomach told him he was not fit to protect anything or anyone. He took lives. He certainly didn’t deserve to be one protecting these two creatures of light.
