30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Ariella
I shift my weight, staring straight ahead while the queen recites some bullshit speech about Thalion’s devotion to the kingdom . My lip curls—I should feel more satisfied that he’s dead. That I succeeded in avenging my father. But all I can focus on is the strange pressure building in my chest and the way Caspian stands too still next to me.
The late morning sun beats down on the crowd gathered in the castle courtyard, though a chill slides over my skin. The weather has been erratic as of late—worse than usual. Even now, clouds gather and disperse rapidly overhead, as if they cannot decide whether to rain or not.
Something isn’t right. There’s been a prickling awareness at the back of my mind since the ceremony began, though I haven't figured out what is making me feel this way.
My lungs inhale to capacity, attempting to slow my heart and calm my racing thoughts. Salt. My nose scrunches as I take another breath. Not for this first time this week am I wondering how the fuck that’s possible. We’re nowhere near the coast, yet the distinct scent of ocean air drifts through the courtyard .
Seraphina’s voice carries across the hushed gathering as she describes Thalion’s dedication to progress . Progress. Is that what we’re calling torture and murder now? The king and I may not be so different, but I’ve never hidden who I am—nor have I done such things for power. Sometimes for fun, though…depends on the assignment. My thoughts turn, and I struggle to refocus them. I’ve no wish to think about Marek, the guild, or my lack of communication with them.
Listening to the queen's forced words, my fingers twitch toward my blade, but I force them still. The queen may be full of shit, but she’s not my target.
I have bigger problems.
My gaze slides to her as she continues speaking, studying her mannerisms more carefully now. After what Varrick said…I’ve no reason to trust the bastard, but there’s something calculated in the way Seraphina holds herself. Too poised, too controlled. Some may excuse the mannerisms as appropriate for a queen, but I know better.
Because I wear the same masks.
Her eyes remain dry despite speaking of her dead husband. When she mentions how he strived to strengthen the kingdom , her fingers drum once against the podium—a tell, perhaps?
“You’re staring,” Caspian whispers, his breath warm against my ear. I don’t look his direction, but my skin tingles at his proximity.
“Your mother is hiding something.” The words are barely audible, meant only for him. We’re standing to the side of the queen, where the crowd can drink us in at their leisure. I’m conscious of the dozens of people who whisper about the Silver Wraith and their prince. What are they doing together? Has she threatened him? You mean to tell me she’s his guard?
His body stiffens, leaning just a hair closer. “What makes you say that?”
“Experience.” I pause as the crowd murmurs in response to something Seraphina said. “People who have nothing to hide don’t work so hard to appear innocent.”
His chest expands with a deep breath as his fingers curl before he stops himself from whatever he wishes to do. “We can discuss this later.” Yes, master .
I choke, running a hand over my lips to cover the cough. I’m going to tell myself that was sarcasm and forget about it.
Regardless of his thoughts, the nagging feeling about Seraphina won’t leave me. I know when to trust my instincts—they’ve kept me alive this long. Still, we have more pressing concerns.
The artifacts. The Accord. Our realms falling into devastating mayhem.
That same word keeps echoing in my head: chaos . Chaos. Chaos . That’s what awaits us if we fail. I’m not sure what that indicates, but the urgency in Eris’ and my mother’s voices told me everything I needed to know. We’ve little time left.
The pressure in my chest increases, making it difficult to breathe normally. My hands clench at my sides as I try to identify the sensation. It’s like the air itself is growing heavier, pressing in from all sides .
“Do you feel that?” I mutter to Caspian, dragging my eyes away from the audience and toward him. He has a strained expression on his face, much like the one I’m wearing.
His silver eyes meet mine briefly before he mutters confirmation.
At least I’m not imagining it—though it does not reassure me that he knew exactly what I was asking about. The crowd shifts, restless, an unusual amount of people clearing their throats. Even Seraphina pauses in her speech, her gaze darting to the sky before she offers the people a wide smile and continues with practiced smoothness.
I scan our surroundings, noting escape routes out of habit. The courtyard is full—nobles, castle staff, and city residents all gathered to commemorate their king. The irony isn’t lost on me. I’d pay a good fortune to know how many of them had privately celebrated when news of his death spread.
There's a shift in my peripheral, and I spot Gavriel lurking at the edge of the crowd. His dark eyes are fixed on Caspian with an intensity that has my jaw clenching. That’s another problem we’ll need to deal with eventually—it'd be much easier to just kill him and be done with it.
The weight in the air grows stronger, and I have to make a conscious effort to keep my breathing steady. Which is excruciatingly difficult, as it feels like what I imagine drowning to be. Something builds—in the atmosphere, in my chest, in my very essence. Like the calm before a devastating storm .
“We need to leave,” I insist in a loud whisper, but Caspian shakes his head.
“We can’t. Not until her speech is over.”
A sound tears through the air, so piercing I swear my skull is a second from splitting open. My legs give out as I drop to my knees, hands clasped over my ears, but it does fucking nothing to block out the horrific noise. All around me, others do the same, their screams lost to the deafening shriek.
Through the agonizing uproar, I force my eyes open, immediately drawn to the scene above us. The sky… fuck me .
A jagged line splits the pale blue expanse, like a crack in glass. But instead of more sky behind it, there’s…color? A void of swirling purples, pinks, and blues that seem to pulse with an otherworldly energy. My essence responds, surging toward it as if drawn by some primal force.
“Ariella!” Caspian’s voice struggles to reach me through the tearing above. The sky is actually tearing —it’s mimicking that of ripped fabric.
The prince’s hand grips my arm, and I allow him to pull me to my feet despite my instinct to shove him away. The crushing pressure in my chest has become almost unbearable. I feel like my organs are going to explode before seeping through every orifice in my body.
People run in all directions, their panic a tangible thing in the air. Sentries try to maintain order, but they’re just as affected as everyone else and are more stumbling around than they are helping. I watch a young noblewoman trip and fall, only to be trampled by those behind her. No one stops to help. I unsheathe a blade and push Caspian toward a wall, where I can watch each direction, lest someone use their hatred for the king and stab his son.
Someone like me.
The shrieking finally subsides, replaced by an eerie silence that feels wrong on a fundamental level. Like the realm itself is holding its breath. Or is that me?
“What the fuck is happening?” Caspian demands, his fingers digging into my arm. I almost laugh at the question—as if I have any idea what’s going on.
But there’s that word again. Chaos .
I suck in deep breaths, watching, horrified, as the sky expands and contracts, the colors beyond settling against the opening. The tear spreads—and I silently thank the Angel that there’s no ear-bleeding sound with it—branching out like lightning frozen in time. “We start finding the artifacts today. ”
Seraphina’s voice rings out, commanding everyone to remain calm. But her words cut off as the ground beneath us trembles. Not like before—this is different. The stones of the courtyard ripples like water, though they remain solid under our feet.
My essence writhes beneath my skin, desperate to break free—more so than I’ve ever felt before. I glance at Caspian and see darkness flickering around him too, though he doesn’t seem to notice as he stares at the anomaly above .
“Let’s get inside,” I instruct, already moving as I grip his wrist strong enough to make him hiss, only squeezing harder in response. “Now.”
He follows without argument or quip, which would be concerning under any other circumstance. We’re halfway across the courtyard when the first scream starts. Not of fear—of agony.
I spin toward the sound and my blood runs cold. A woman near the castle gates clutches her chest, her back arched at an impossible angle. Light pours from her mouth and eyes, so bright it hurts to look at. When it fades, she collapses.
Dead.
Before anyone can react, it happens again. And again. Four more people dropping as their essence literally tears itself from their bodies. The kind of terror swimming through my veins should not exist.
But neither should this fucking mess we’re in.
“Shit.” I lace my fingers through Caspian's and run. We need to get somewhere safe, somewhere I can think and stare at him for any signs of his essence turning on him. The balance is completely shot.
We burst through the castle doors just as another crack appears overhead. This one is massive, stretching from horizon to horizon. Through it, I catch glimpses of…something. A forest, maybe? But the trees look wrong, their branches reaching down instead of up.
Oh, fuck . The Aether realm.
“That fucking bitch,” I blurt, stopping so abruptly that Caspian runs into me. “She had to have known this would happen.” The woman didn’t seem surprised by any of this, especially after knowing what Thalion did. Why didn’t she warn anyone?
His face hardens almost defensively. “What are you talking about?” I gesture to everything falling apart around us. “No, that’s ridiculous.” He shakes his head, grasping who I'm speaking of. “She would’ve said something—she would not risk Vespera like that.”
Another tremor cuts him off, this one strong enough to crack the castle walls. Pieces of stone rain down around us as we stumble toward the nearest alcove. I want to scream at the Angel to stop this, but I know it won’t listen.
“We can argue about this later,” I snap. “Right now we need to—”
Movement catches my eye and I shove Caspian behind me, harder than intended, unsheathing my second blade in one fluid motion. But it’s just Gavriel, looking significantly worse than he did during the ceremony. Perhaps he'll grace us by exploding like the others. With my luck, he won't—but a girl can dream.
“What’s happening?” he demands, his usual hatred of me forgotten in light of current events. He’s worried.
Before either of us can answer, the air…shifts. Like reality itself is being pulled in different directions. My essence responds with a surge so forceful that I have to brace myself against the wall.
“Angel fuck,” I gasp as foreign sensations assault me, pressing a hand against my sternum as if that will help keep my insides in . I can feel the realm breaking apart—feel the very fabric of existence straining against whatever holds it together .
Caspian’s hand finds mine, and the contact sends a jolt through my system. His essence calls to mine, and the comfort I find in that connection should worry me, but I have bigger problems right now.
Like how to stop our realm from literally tearing itself apart.
A deafening crack echoes through the castle, and we all look up to where the ceiling is now splitting open. Through the gap, more of the strange forest peaks through. It looks closer now, more real somehow.
“We need to figure out what the artifacts are,” I assert, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my throat. “Then we need to find them and break into the Aether.” A sentence I never thought I’d utter multiple times in a day.
“How exactly do you plan to do that?” Gavriel asks in his usual, brutish tone. “No one can just walk into the Aether realm.”
I bare my teeth in what might generously be called a smile. “Watch me.”