Chapter Nineteen
The king is missing.
He has been absent for over two weeks now and no one, not even Ani or Ziba, or even Razulek and Indira, seems to know where he has vanished to.
Or, at least, they’re not confiding in me.
Then again, everyone here has so many secrets, what’s one more?
I have my own problems to worry about, namely the last pieces of my memory, which I suspect are the most critical ones.
I know by now who I am and why I escaped, that people who I thought were my friends are my enemies, and that my magic has been weaponized. By the king of Oryndhr. Javed.
When I push, I see vague snatches of another royal, but my emotions are so conflicted about him for some as yet unknown reason, warring with some deeper instinct that I can’t pinpoint. Gods, why can’t I just remember?
The cursed cuffs heat, and I know exactly why I cannot. My blood simmers, magic coiling in my veins with nowhere to go—the despicable runes on the bracers flaring to suppress it.
Sands, I need to get some of this frustration out! Get some answers! Do something!
I reach through the bond. Razulek.
Miss me already, little queen? he answers immediately, and though our connection is not limited by distance, I am guessing he’s not near the castle. Fond affection rolls through the bond and my breathing eases.
I need to see you. Please.
He pauses, and I feel guilty for pulling him away from his paternal duties. I’m about to tell him to ignore my request when I sense him again. Meet me in the meadow beside the castle.
Hurriedly, I dress in a fresh set of leathers and run out of the fortress as fast as my feet can carry me.
It doesn’t take me long to jog through the gardens with the marigolds and a thicket of trees to reach the wide expanse of field beyond.
I wait impatiently there, staring into the sky.
Eventually, a small speck grows larger and larger, blotting out the sun as my azdaha gracefully lands, the gusts from his wings nearly toppling me over.
Wondrous awe fills me as I take him in, marveling at the shiny emerald scales that glint with shades of chartreuse and teal in the sunlight and the long, elegantly frilled spines from his crown to the tip of his barbed tail.
I wonder idly if his hatchlings will look like him or Indira, or be a combination of both. Or even another color altogether.
His snout nudges my head as he lowers to a crouching position, one wing splayed downward toward me. Let’s fly, and then you can unburden your thoughts.
The notion of riding him so soon fills me with joy, and as I scramble up his extended wing to the pebbled divot at his neck, a sense of rightness settles inside of me.
Akasha ripples between us, weaving our auras together, and I marvel at the instant connection that holds me in place.
The magical tether with this mystical creature is still astounding to me.
Grasping his spines, I tighten my thighs and brace as Razulek launches off his hind legs with a massive pump of his wings, taking us high into the sun-drenched sky in a matter of seconds.
My stomach feels weightless, but I’m not afraid.
I know he’ll never let me fall. We climb steadily for a bit and then he spreads his wings wide, coasting on the winds above the clouds.
I tip my face to the warmth of the sun, but my heart still weighs too heavy for me to truly enjoy it.
What’s troubling you, little queen? Razulek rumbles.
“I feel lost . . . and afraid,” I say aloud, knowing he can hear me—speaking the words helps me to parse my chaotic feelings.
“My memories are inconsistent, but the terror I feel is real. Like something is brewing and I have no idea what it is. I need to know what’s happening.
Is there anything more you can share about your time in Oryndhr that might jog my memory?
” I stare balefully at my wrists. “Or even how we can get these starscursed cuffs off?”
His big body heaves with a few flaps of his wings as he thinks, his head curving back with a slitted, jeweled gaze narrowing on my cuffed wrists and flashing with rancor.
Much of what I remember is pain. The collar they shackled me with had their symbols that repressed my magic.
I tried everything to remove them, even my fires, but nothing worked.
One eye swivels to mine. And until you, I despaired of ever feeling the blissful touch of akasha again. What does your simurgh say?
“She’s a captive as well,” I admit. “Our magic is bound.” I inhale a ragged breath, fingers tightening on his spines. “What do you know of the rulers there?”
There was an older king, but I saw him only once. The queen reeked of darkness, and her son, who eventually became king, was worse.
“Javed.”
Razulek huffs. I know not any names, but he was cruel. He wanted me to bare my neck and submit, but I never did. No azdaha has ever been forced to serve the sons of man. I was glad when I heard of his death.
“Wait,” I say, frowning at the revelation, which throws my theories to the wind. “He died? Do you know this for sure?”
The magi who drew the runes on my collar spoke often among themselves when they thought I was asleep.
He looks back to me again and his lip curls up, baring his teeth in what I expect is a savage grin.
And how proud I was, little queen, when I heard you had slain his mother, the foul death magi.
I praised the gods for the blessed hand of their vengeance.
I stare at him in shock. “I slayed the queen?”
But as I voice the preposterous question, images flicker to life in my brain.
Morvarid’s bloody smile . . . my dagger sliding in between her ribs.
But no celebration, only sorrow, because someone dear to me had died.
A man . . . a prince who’d loved me. The memories dissipate before I can grasp them or see his face or know his name. No!
“Raz? Was there another prince?” I ask desperately.
No. There was a . . . king.
If there is another king besides Javed, I have no recollection of him.
My confusion must show on my face, because I feel the press of akasha in the bond between us, and suddenly, I can see into Razulek’s memories.
A tall, dark-haired man, resplendent in purple-and-gold clothing, stalks across Raz’s gaze. I don’t recognize his profile.
“Are you certain this will work?” the man demands of a runecaster I do recognize from my scattered memories: Aran, who holds a pair of familiar bracers in his hands. Maker above, those are the exact ones I wear now.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Aran says, though the anguish on his face strikes me as odd. “With the changes we discussed, you will have complete control. Are you certain—”
“If I wanted your opinion, I’d give it to you,” he snaps. The king turns to face me—Razulek—and I gasp. He looks familiar, but also not. His eyes are filigreed with purplish smoke, a cruel smile twisting his full lips. “Proceed. And bleed the beast for touching my property.”
I’m thrust from Razulek’s mind just before the memory of his suffering hits.
“Who was that?” I wheeze, coming back into my own head.
He came before with his guards when you healed my wings. I tried to protect you, but the pain was too much to bear. They took you from me. I am so sorry that I failed you then.
I remember the taste of Jade in my mouth, the prick of the needle into my nape. The betrayal. I reach forward to stroke the side of his neck, pressing my palm into his warm, rough hide. “No, Raz. You didn’t. They did that to us. They hurt us. But we’re here now, and we’re safe.”
For now, he says. He will come for you.
“Did Darrius tell you that?” I ask.
I have seen the army that camps on the other side of the mountains myself. The Night King fears that war is imminent. He has tried to negotiate with the Oryndhrian king, but to no avail.
I remember what Ani had told her brother about the king being difficult.
“Do you know where Darrius has gone?” I ask, dread pooling anew.
“If they mount an attack, Everlea will be vulnerable without its leader. Ani is in line for the throne, and if her brother doesn’t return, the responsibility will fall to her.
I know he thinks she’s capable, I can tell how much he esteems her, but what if she can’t? ”
The curse the king bears will be his ruin.
Blinking, I frown. “Curse?”
I have shared too much already, and it is not my story to tell.
Despite my intense curiosity, I don’t press, knowing he won’t betray his king’s confidence. I’ll ask Darrius about the curse and the army at the border when he returns.
If all else fails, I will offer myself up to the Oryndhrian king, if only to save Everlea and its people and prevent war. They should not have to suffer for harboring me. And then I have to get back to Coban and my family.
“How did I come to be with you when we escaped?” I ask Raz as he makes a wide bank after passing the mountain peaks of Lora, out over the Glacier Ocean to head west back toward the castle, and the sight of the open expanse of blue below us makes me instinctively tighten my grip.
A noblewoman summoned you to the arena. It was a trick.
I frown at his words, a woman’s treacherous face winking in my vision.
She had hoped to kill me. I had been punished, poisoned, and starved until all I knew was pain and rage and hunger.
Your blood healed me, helped me see through the darkness of the lie.
“I healed you with my blood, not magic?” I ask.
Akasha flows freely in our veins.
I exhale. “What happened after that?”
You gave me your light, little queen, and together we burned through the heavens.
“Darrius says there are wards between the realms. How did we get through them?”
My mate informed the king of my return. Raz chuffs, and I can feel the devotion in his heart to Indira through our connection. Now what do you say we do a few flying drills?