Chapter 1 #2
Fighting the urge to hurl the tome across the room, I close it and slide it back to the Sibyl. “This is it? There’s no way to undo this mistake?”
The Sibyl’s wrinkled face remains emotionless as they answer, “The Statera does not make mistakes; only its beloved people do.”
“So, it’s his fault then?”
The Sibyl’s gray eyes soften, and they lean into the table. “The Pliris prince will forever be your parah.”
“The Stigian queen’s son,” I correct with a sneer.
“You can define him as your enemy, but even your claim of hate for him—”
“I do hate him,” I spit.
With a deep breath and slower cadence to their voice, the Sibyl starts again. “You can claim to hate him, but the draw of your parah bond will always be there.”
“So, it’s hopeless?”
“This bond can’t be broken, but it can break all others.”
My face reddens, and I clench my jaw. The Sibyl is giving me a way out of my bond with the wrong person. “I’ve made a promise to my kingdom and to my betrothed. I intend to keep it and marry Leif,” I say, running my cool hand over my face and standing. “Thank you for your time.”
The Sibyl nods, and I rush from the suffocating smell of old parchment and weathered leather.
Flinging open the doors of the atheneum, I run past Zek and through the bleached corridors.
Wind whips against my cheeks and my ponytail brushes between my shoulder blades.
I maneuver around several Sibyls who watch me with stoic expressions.
I hate how nothing bothers them. These walls could crumble around us, and they would leisurely stroll to the nearest exit, like it was another uneventful day.
I bound out of the last passageway and lift my face to the sun.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of freshly cut grass and roses.
Every cell of my body buzzes as despair threatens to take hold.
I try to center myself and come to terms with what I’ve learned, but it’s like my world is closing in on me.
Everything is fading to the background, and my mind can’t comprehend the last sentence I read from the tome.
Only the Sacred Statera itself is greater than this gift.
Only the Sacred Statera.
I turn toward the ivory structure at the far end of the garden.
It’s no bigger than a tool shed with white pillars and a gilded gate.
With unsteady legs, I ascend its marble steps and enter the holy place.
Incenses, the golden glow of hundreds of candles, and solitude greet me.
The afternoon sun blazes through the massive stained glass window built high into the front wall, casting rays of light upon the altar below.
Flowers, fruits, and trinkets adorn the golden table of humble offerings to the Statera.
I fall to my knees on the kneeler at the base of the altar and lift my face to the window.
The temple’s chapel is familiar to me. This is where I begin each day in meditation and is one of the few moments I have without the watchful eye of my guard.
My prayers have always been for the safety of my family and prosperity for the people of Lucent.
I never ask for anything for myself, knowing I’m blessed in ways others can’t imagine.
But desperation has brought me to my knees.
With each passing day, the void inside me grows, and my soul aches.
I wear a strong facade, pretending I can face anything and conquer it.
I hide behind training and studying, claiming I want to be a just ruler capable of protecting her people.
It’s all a guise, a pretty way to conceal what I’m truly feeling.
Every beat of my broken heart is pure anguish.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please give him to another. I’m not strong enough to serve my people and fight my feelings for him.”
For the first time since leaving Lucent, I shed a tear for what I’ve lost. The missing sound of his laughter makes every song seem hollow, and the absence of his warmth has my bones trembling with a bitter chill.
Every conversation is empty, and the quiet is deafening without his presence.
And everything I love pales compared to my adoration for him.
Yet he’s the one who left me and caused irreparable fractures in my life.
My voice cracks as I continue my prayer. “Or if he must be my parah, stop the pain. Give me the strength to breathe without him instead of suffocating in his absence.” I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my burning chest. “Take away the love I feel for him.”
I fall victim to the agony caused by the words. My tears flow down my cheeks and a sob rips from my throat. “Please take away my love for Kyron. Please.”
His name leaving my lips feels foreign, and yet it’s home. I’ve not spoken it in the better part of a year. I thought making him nameless would make losing him tolerable, but it only damages me more.
I place my head on the armrest and let my grief take root.
My chest clenches and every breath I fight for rattles my body.
The mewls of my sobbing echo throughout the chapel, leaving me in an unending symphony of sadness.
His absence is tearing me apart, gutting me until I’m a shell of the girl I once was.
Heavy may be the crown, but the weight is nothing but feathers compared to a broken heart.
“Elle?”
I lift my head and turn to the chapel’s entrance. My tears blur the image, but the voice is as familiar as my own. “Leif?” I say, drying my eyes with the back of my hands.
My best friend crouches his muscular frame next to me.
He brushes a brown tendril from my tear-soaked face, the cold iron of his betrothal ring grazing my cheek.
His hazel eyes roam over my features, and I find a compassion in his gaze that I’ve never seen before.
A spark of relief ignites in me, and I throw my arms around his neck.
Burying my face in his chest, I breathe him in, filling my lungs with the familiar scent of cedar and leather.
The familiarity of his arms and steady breaths eases my anguish until it is bearable again.
We release each other and sit side by side on the kneeler. Our thighs wave back and forth, bouncing off each other in a mindless gesture we’ve done since we were children.
“Is this how you spend your time now, in tearful devotion to the Statera? Are you abandoning me for the life of a Sibyl? When can I expect my invitation to your ordination?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I hate to let you down, but I made a promise to this guy, and I’m supposed to rule a kingdom. You know how it is, life getting in the way of my big dream of doing something meaningful.”
He sobers and leans forward to look at my face. “Seriously, are you all right?”
“Physically, I can kick your ass even harder than I could before, but emotionally… I’m trying.”
He drapes his arm around me and pulls me against his side.
I rest my head on his shoulder and bask in the comfort I find when he is around.
Not having him with me the last few months has been difficult, but this was a journey I had to make on my own.
I needed to know when I faced tribulations, I could navigate my way through them by myself.
Still, I missed the simplicity that comes with having a good friend by my side.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
His throat bobs as he swallows and says, “Micah is requesting that you return home.”
“I still have five months of my year left.”
“He knows, but this can’t wait.”
I jump up, and my eyes dart around the chapel. “Is he all right? Is it my family?”
Leif holds up a hand and stretches to his feet. “Everyone is fine. He wouldn’t give me any details other than it's important I bring you back ‘as soon as possible.’”
I gnaw on my bottom lip, my mind racing with hundreds of terrible thoughts. Micah promised me a year to get myself together after the drama with Kyron, and the King of Lucent is notorious for keeping his word. If he is summoning me back to court early, this can’t be good.