37. Astraea
Chapter thirty-seven
Astraea
I blink once.
Twice.
This doesn’t make any sense. My gaze lifts from the images I’m seeing drawn in this book. Kyros is already looking at me. They all are. Their eyes flick between the page and my face over and over again, recognizing the same thing I am.
“What is this?” I speak my thoughts out aloud, not really expecting an answer.
Even though the parchment has faded with age, I can still see it clearly enough.
My father, or I guess the man who was acting as my father, is standing as an escort with Phaedra on his arm.
Confusion draws my brows together, constricting my airway in a way that usually ends in panic.
“In the dunes… before Kyros opened the portal,” Beckett starts. He looks at Cole, then Kyros, and finally back to me cautiously as though his next words may spook me. “I heard Queen Phaedra speaking to your father like they had… history. This tells a piece of that same story…”
“What does it say?” I squint, looking at the image, and have to clear the emotion from my throat.
My voice sounds like it's not my own. I can barely see their faces through my bleary eyes, much less read the scrawled text below the grainy artwork.
I slide the book across the table to where Rowan stands.
As he stares at it, his mouth opens to say something, and then he snaps it shut.
He stays silent a moment longer before glancing at Kyros.
Almost reluctantly, his vision settles back on me.
“Coronation of Queen Phaedra Lazuro.” He studies me harder than ever, his usually pensive stare downright piercing.
“How much do you actually know about your mother?” I feel the moisture blooming behind my eyes.
The prickling sensation takes over as I try to unsuccessfully keep my emotions bottled.
The tears fall without my permission. The truth is, I have never really spoken of my mother.
I was never allowed to. As I look down at the image in this book, I see a woman who has a striking resemblance to me staring back, and I find myself being overwhelmed by the emotion.
It’s her. There is no denying it. My mother is standing to Phaedra’s right, with her chin dipped and slightly behind the newly crowned Queen.
As I scan the picture further, I see my father—Connard—standing to Phaedra’s left, with his arm linked with hers smugly and a look of satisfaction spreading on her face.
I don’t understand. This can’t be right.
My trembling moves to my hands, and my breaths come quicker.
“That’s enough.” Kyros declares, sensing my distress.
His hands wrap around my shoulders, and he slowly turns me around until my face is pressed to his chest. My heart is thundering as his strong arms fold around me one at a time.
I close my eyes for half a second, trying to gather some semblance of strength, even though I want nothing more than to bury myself into his hold.
I can’t do that, though. Only for a moment, I allow myself to live within the warmth of his embrace—the warmth of our twin flames flaring.
It eases the unmistakable pain I feel of the truth that seems to be trapped in my throat, but it can’t stop the panic that is rising.
I can’t take this. I shake my head and begin to push him away.
“Stop,” I breathe, looking up to meet his black velvet eyes, that softness he only affords me. “Stop.” I say again. “I can't do this.” He still doesn't release me. I push his chest harder. His brows furrow as he clenches his jaw and swallows the refusal.
“You don’t have to do this right now.” He whispers as he tries to pull me back into his arms.
“I know,” I say back, pleading with him to understand, “but I need to.” Turning back to face the group, my chin quivers when I lay eyes on Colette.
She is barely keeping herself from running over to me.
I think she would already be at my side if Kellan wasn’t physically holding her in place right now.
“I don’t remember anything about my mother, not really anyway.
I have one very hazy memory of a woman with my eyes looking down at me and talking to me about the future.
The only image I ever was allowed to see was a woven and faded tapestry covering one of the service pathways in the palace.
Now I’m wondering if that was even an image of my mother at all.
I’ve told myself over the years that her memory had just faded, but could it be that my mind just blocked everything out?
” I swallow the emotion threatening to stop my voice and look at Kyros.
Thankfully he understands what I need and presses a hand to the small of my back, lending me strength to continue.
“The truth is, the only things I ever heard of my mother were from my father. He despised her. He was always calling her weak, likening me to her whenever I did something that he disapproved of. Which were most things.” I wring my hands in front of me just to ease some of the pain in that sentence.
“I honestly don’t have anything else. The only time I ever saw her truly looking back at me was when I closed my eyes and sleep took me, and the more I try to remember, the more distorted those images become.
It was always in the moments just before the nightmares took over that I felt as though someone saw me.
But that day in the dunes,” I look around to each of their faces staring back at me.
“On my birthday, when the nightmare was real and standing right in front of me… That night, I seemed to hear a voice as clear as I hear my own now. I think it was a memory of a woman who looked at me with eyes that mirror my own and it told me to concede to the shadows. My mother.” Relief lifts from my chest as I speak that truth.
“At the time, I thought that she had meant Kyros and his shadow magick. He could be the shadows that were going to get me away from all of the death and destruction. Now that I know the truth about having magick myself… I can’t help but think that maybe she was telling me to trust myself.
Allow the shadows to guide me and embrace who I am.
” Though I say the last part aloud too, it's more of a thought I'm still trying to work out for myself, because she said more than that...
My gaze drifts over my shoulder and meets those obsidian stone eyes.
The way he looks at me, it's like a piece of my soul is staring back at me saying, I understand.
I can tell Kyros is aware that there is more to the memory than I’m willing to share with the others. At least not yet. But I can give them something because trust can never be earned if it's not also given.
“This is my mother.” I point to the woman standing on Phaedra’s right and read the words that are finally legible as my tears have finally stopped clouding my eyes, and I drop back into the chair.
I wouldn't be able to deny it anyway. Our likeness is too clear to refuse.
“Princess Mina—” I swallow, reading the name over and over again in my head.
“Princess Mina Lazuro.” My eyes snap up and collide with Ruaan's as he speaks for the first time.
He looks down, and we both watch as his finger brushes along the image, lingering in the corner over some of the faces staring at the royals.
Then his fist clenches on the table as he looks back up.
“The history I know says Princess Mina Lazuro died before the coronation of her younger sister, Phaedra. She had died giving birth to a bastard child and never was able to claim the throne as hers, even though she was the eldest child—the Diemos throne was hers by birthright.”
My lips fall open in disbelief as I realize what he’s saying. I want to ask questions, demand he tell me more of what he knows about my mother, but nothing comes from my mouth. My lips close again, my brows heavy on my forehead.
“I always wondered why they went to Eathian. Of all places… her mother never liked the heat of Pyraxia. I couldn’t understand it…
but now…” Ruaan rambles as he begins pacing the length of the table while clenching and unclenching his fists.
I stare at the image confused for a long moment before finally looking up and asking the one thing I can think of that won’t bring more hurt to my heart.
“Who?” I stare at him as I wait for his reply but can’t help noticing the look on Colette’s face as she watches him. Does she know?
“It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s gone.” He tears his hand through his hair.
“This confirms what I wanted to know. Phaedra had a hand in all of this, and in turn…” He looks down at the book again.
“They ruined so many lives.” His words are seething through clenched teeth.
Every time I am reminded of the ruin that was caused by my father, I still can’t help but feel a pang of guilt deep within my chest. The edge of a blade placed strategically between my ribs, held firmly to the throbbing muscle, allowing a trickle of blood to escape with every beat of my heart.
The library door opens, interrupting my inner turmoil and cutting the thick tension in the room. Kyros stands, though he keeps my hand firmly in his grip. A timid woman peeks her head in, immediately dipping her eyes after they land on Kyros.
“Sorry sir, I wanted to let you know that the rooms you requested have been made up, and we have prepared a light lunch in the guest quarter’s dining room.
Commander Nolan wishes to know if there are any specifics you need for the banquet.
Perhaps a word in private to discuss planning?
” Her blonde hair falls around her face, concealing her features and, more specifically, the dark circles rimming her eyes.
My brows furrow as I look between her and Kyros, where he is rigid at my side.