Page 34 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
“Yes, I would like that,” I answer before I can stop myself. I clasp my hands in front of me and glance down in embarrassment before sneaking a look back at him.
“Then I will see you tomorrow,” he responds, giving me a parting grin.
I close the door and lean my back against it, a small smile tugging on the corners of my mouth. Drawing my fingers to my lips, I realize that this is the first time I’vewantedto smile since that horrific night. That darkness inside me falters faintly and a tiny bit of it is replaced with something pure—something reminiscent of happiness.
“Rhea.” The whispered voice tickles my ear as I open my eyes. Icicles—long and pointed—hang from the ceiling above the bed. Shadows dance in the corners of the room—writhing and swirling higher up the tower walls, moving to cage me in. “Rhea, why did you let him die?”
I shake my head at his sickening familiar voice, my hands digging into my hair and scraping my scalp. “I wanted to save him,” I whisper, tears dripping onto the blanket. There’s silence for a moment, the only sound my heavy breathing.
“But you didn’t,” he growls, “and he left you knowing that your fate would be with me.” His voice slices through my skin, my bones, mysoul.
“I wish it had been me.”
“It wasn’t though, was it?” The shadows move in as the king’s oppressive darkness pushes down on me, my body crumbling under its weight. “And now, you are mine. Only mine. Forever.”
Gasping for air, I jolt awake. The details of the tower come into focus with the small amount of moonlight shining in through the windows. I push my tangled, sweaty hair away from my face as Bella lifts her head off of my leg. King Dolian’s voice lingers in my mind like a terrifying omen of my future. It reminds me that my time here is like sand falling in the middle of an hourglass, except I don’t know what will happen when time runs out.
Chapter Nineteen: Bahira
Mynailsdigintothe ancient wooden table in the council room, leaving crescent shapes in the surface, as I anxiously wait for the rest of the members to arrive. The soft light from the chandeliers above reflects on the midnight black stone that lines the floor. The breeze blowing in from the open windows is warmer, a sign that the shifting of the seasons from spring to summer is nearing. The earthy scent of the trees surrounding us permeates the otherwise-stagnant air as the birds flitting between them voice their songs.
Footsteps echo off the stone as the last few mage councilmen enter the room and take their seats. Councilman Kallin, Daje’s father, takes his seat on my father’s left-hand side. Across the table from where I sit, his eyes meet mine briefly, a look of dismissal flashing in them before he turns his attention back to my father. There have been brief moments when I consider marrying Daje just to spite his father. How upset would he be if his son married a magicless girl? Nevermind the fact that I am the fuckingprincessof this realm. I fight the almost-dominating urge to roll my eyes.
Looking at my father—his hands relaxed on the top knee of his crossed legs—I’m reminded again how lucky I am to have been born to parents who care more about the soul than the magic they might possess. With a flick of his wrist, the doors to the council chamber close quietly. Another has copies of Nox’s latest letter sent by raven floating to each council member from a stack in the middle. I had almost ripped the original one out of my father’s hands to read the newest updates. It turns out that Nox didn’t have much to report, and the silence is deafening as the council reads over the sparse correspondence.
Daje’s father sighs when he gets to the end, letting his copy drop unceremoniously back onto the table. “There is not much of anything to this letter,” he mutters, running a hand over his balding head.
My father nods, ever the regal presence. Even dressed casually as he is now in a plain white long-sleeved tunic and black trousers, there is no denying that King Sadryn was born to rule. His night-black hair is pulled back, his tanned skin taking on a bronzed glow under the golden flame of the chandeliers. Mumbles of how a lack of meaningful information has been common with Nox’s letters lately trickle in around the table. While my father’s face is a mask of pure calm, those who know him best know his frustration manifests in small movements from his fingers. So when Councilman Arav voices his concern that Nox could be compromised, my father’s fingers grip his knee so hard they start to turn white.
“My son loves his kingdom and the people within it more than anything,” he says in a tight voice.
“I do not mean to question the prince’s loyalties, Majesty. I just mean, what if something has happened in which he hasn’t been given a choice?” Councilman Arav replies, a sheen of sweat causing his forehead to shine.
Arav is younger for a councilman, which is especially apparent as he is seated next to Daje’s father. He was chosen because he is from a smaller town on the very outskirts of our kingdom, near the border with the mortal lands, and the people there love him for how he advocates for them to the king. His blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin stand out starkly against most everyone else at this table, but his features represent the mixed-blood population of the town he is from.
“Are you insinuating that the prince may have been found out and captured?” Councilman Hadrik inquires. Hadrik is my parent’s closest family friend and like an uncle to me. Growing up, his presence was a common occurrence around the palace, and he never missed an opportunity to indulge my curious mind in whatever unique or unusual questions I would ask of him. His graying-black hair and kind brown eyes stand out against the silver tunic he’s wearing as he stares at Arav.
“Nox is the most powerful mage born in the last century, possibly even longer. I do not doubt that if trouble had arisen, he would have found a way to get back to our kingdom,” Daje’s father adds.
“Councilman Kallin is correct. Nox would protect himself if need be.” I hear the assurance in my father’s voice—for my benefit, I have no doubt.
“How long do you plan to leave our crown prince in an enemy kingdom?” one of the older councilmen, Osiris, asks from the end of the table.
“We don’t know that they are the enemy, only that we felt a heavy burst of magic there and—”
“And that alone should signify that they are up to something!” he says, interrupting my father. “With every day that passes we are risking our future ruler! Do you not think the—”
“Osirus, that is enough. No one could possibly care more about the future ruler of this kingdom than his own father.” When my eyes bounce to his, I don’t have to look for his tell to know that my father’s anger is building.
“And yet, you keep him there,” Osiris continues, and I begin to wonder if the man has some sort of separate grievance with his king. None of the council members have ever challenged him like this. “You allow him to try to get close to a ruler who may be hiding magic. Why else would they do that if not to use it against us? Perhaps they are even aware of our ability to pass through the Spell without consequence!” Osirus’ pupils widen with each word out of his mouth, an odd sort of panic to his voice.
My father must notice it as well because he leans forward slightly and narrows his eyes at him. “What is it you are more worried about? The fact that something may happen to my son, or the fact that if it does, my daughter will become heir to the throne?”
I stiffen at my mention, but Osirus’ panic makes much more sense if my rule is what he truly fears. Nox is eldest, so he does technically have first claim to the throne. But my father has always made it clear to both of us that, much like how a new ruler was chosen before the war, the position should go to whoever is worthy of it. And he determines that worthiness not by the strength of our magic, or if we have any at all, but by our morals—by how we treat others and show our love for the realm. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that both Nox and I care about our kingdom more than anything. It’s why he’s currently undercover in another realm, and it’s why I’ve dedicated myself to fixing what’s blocking our magic. But as far as I’m concerned, Nox can have the throne. He’s always been the more serious and ruler-minded sibling. Whereas I have no interest in figuring out how to be politically correct, among other things. A fact that is proven when I open my mouth to defend myself.
“Councilman Osirus, surely you have no qualms about a woman leading our kingdom? As you may recall, rulers were exclusively female before my ancestor was named king.” I’m provoking him into speaking out loud what I know he is thinking—what I know a majority of the old men at this table are thinking.
“You are forgetting the veryimportantdetail that they also had magic. Void Magic no less. And the fact remains that you have no—”
