Page 70 of A Queen Of Broken Realms
“As am I, Cole. I am so sorry,” Davina whispers.
“It was my doing also,” Aglaope says as she steps forward. “I was the one who killed him.” My sister glances at me and I try to infuse my expression with my appreciation that she’s taking her share of an egregious wrongdoing, but not much comes beyond the heartache I feel for Cole’s loss.
Cole’s shoulders slump and Cyrus loosens his hold, handing him over to Eryx’s embrace. The angel’s razor plumage sings like wind chimes as his feathers shift to shield Cole’s resurrected grief from view. I look to Davina, who sits with her head bowed, her elbows on her knees and her palms facing upward, the sigils of her new rank shining with gentle green light.
I stand in silence, looking at these people I love who have been tied together as enemies and friends and even lovers, caught in the whirlwind of history. The secrets of our immortal pasts seem to sharpen beneath the sands of time. Those blades cut so deep when they emerge. We’re all hurting from these wounds, from the things done to us, by the wrongdoings we’ve committed against others, even by the actions we’ve taken against ourselves. We all suffer from guilt and shame. Love and loss. Decisions that can never be taken back.‘Perhaps some things cannot change, no matter how much we wish them to,’ Aglaope said. Maybe she’s right, that no matter how hard we try we’re always destined to hurt one another. Tokeephurting one another, no matter how many centuries pass.
I watch as Cyrus holds out a hand for Davina. She looks up at him, her eyes red with tears, her skin stained with them. He gives her a nod. She gives him a fragile smile in return. When Davina slips her hand into his, he squeezes her fingers, and a different kind of tear falls from her lashes.
I turn away and drift toward the mantle of our fireplace, the gentle hum of the Deathfate stone singing to me from a hidden safe in the wall, its locks encased in magic. I wonder how much these unseen forces have always toyed with us. Bringing us together. Tearing us apart. Maybe I should hate the last of the gods for what they put us through. Or maybe it was our own doing all along, that we can’t help but crash into one another, like ships being sung to shore.
Aglaope was right. Some things cannot change. But I have to believe we can still mend them. We can heal our hearts when they break. We can find a way back to ourselves and one another. If Ashen could help me do it, then I can help the people I love too. Maybe I can even help this realm, whether it is my fate or not. I can give them what they need to keep going.
And I’m ready to start trying.
Even if I have to spill a little blood to do it.
CHAPTER27
“Are you sure about this?” Ashen asks as we descend a steep staircase carved from black stone. Humidity rises with every step we take into the subterranean cavern. I keep hold of Ashen’s arm and we progress further into the darkness, our way lit by dim lanterns of smoky grey glass.
“For the hundredth time, yes.”
“I’m not fond of the idea.”
“I’m acutely aware.”
“I suppose it at least confirms you are indeed still trying to kill me. This time by heart attack.”
“I already said that killing you would never get old.”
Ashen’s only reply is a low growl of irritation.
“I need to get out more,” I say with a shrug, patting his arm. “I can’t just stay inside and fuck my problems away.”
Ashen scoffs. “We can try.”
“Wedidtry.”
“We can tryharder.”
“You’ve tried hard enough. We heard you from the next suite over,” Ediye says behind us, her eyes shining with mischief when I shoot her a conspiratorial grin.
“You are one to talk, witch,” Ashen says with a sharp glance over his shoulder. Ediye’s eyes shimmer brighter in reply, stars glowing and fading with her amusement.
Ashen slips into scowling, brooding, demon-worthy silence. His simmering anxiety bleeds through the mark over my heart. No matter what reassurance I try to give him, whether it’s a squeeze on his arm or a joke or a smile, nothing seems to quell the fear that vibrates through my flesh like the tickle of butterfly wings beneath my skin.
When we land on the final step and drums pound an echoing beat to herald our arrival, those wings become tiny hammers pounding at my sternum.
The cavern ahead is a massive chamber, the jagged roof of stalactite crystals shimmering several stories above us as they reflect the light of the torches lining the cave. The length of the cavern is double its width, with bleachers extending down both ends, hewn from the rock and separated by a smooth, flat floor. At the far end is a sculpture carved into the black stone. The scene of gratuitous impaling reminds me a little of the tapestries in the Throne Room, the ones I really did end up burning a few nights ago when Cole wanted to make salted caramel s’more towers. It seemed to cheer him up a bit, so it was worth the effort of dragging the heavy fabric into a makeshift fire pit behind Eshkar’s former residence, even if I did eat enough marshmallows to make myself sick.
“The sculpture is making me hungry. You know what would make this whole thing better? Churros,” I say as Ashen unwinds his arm from mine to place his hand on the exposed skin of my lower back as we ascend the steps of a dais. I’ve chosen a black option for this evening, a little more in keeping with the Reaper aesthetic. It’s a short playsuit with a low-cut back, the military boots I’m wearing giving it a bit of an edge along with thekaikenstrapped to my thigh. I can’t say it’s queenly, but it’s practical and comfortable in this humid cave warmed by torches and the bodies of demons who stand at attention among the staggered seats.
Ashen’s only response to my attempted joke is a grim little growl. He sends a withering glare across the audience as we take our places to stand in front of our seats on the stage, Ashen to my right with Cyrus and Roman, Ediye to my left along with Imani, Hotaru, and Maru from my new Council. A contingent ofShub Lugalsoldiers fan out around us, lining the edges of the stage and the level below us as though daring anyone to even look our way too long. Zida enters last, coiling behind my carved mahogany chair with an agitated hiss.
The drums come to an abrupt halt.
“Hail Queen Leucosia,” Ashen booms to the audience.
