Chapter 47
Vera
We enter a room with tall windows that look out into the encampment.
They appear strangely bare without any curtains.
An enormous desk with feet in the shape of deathstalker paws fills one half of the space.
I startle and sidestep away when I see a live one curled up nearby, taking up a large corner of the room.
Renton pats my hand, and I realize I’m clutching his sleeve. “He only eats those I tell him to, darling.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I avoid looking at it, attempting to pretend it’s not there. I wish I could do the same with Renton, but he’s far too… present.
He chuckles as he pulls a chair closer to the one behind the desk and motions for me to sit. “You are our long-awaited queen. No one will harm you.”
His gaze gleams with promised violence as he sits back and crosses an ankle over the opposite knee, the epitome of classy ease. But there’s scheming in his eyes—the very eyes I avoid for the pain they trigger.
“I’m not fit to be a queen,” I say honestly, risking that I’ll convince him and he’ll end up killing me.
“You are; you just don’t see it.” He searches my eyes. “Yet.”
I hear no noise from outside, and the deathstalker sleeping in the corner? I haven’t heard it either, but I imagine it’ll wake soon, and I’d prefer to be gone.
In an effort to hurry things along, I blurt out, “You said you were the heir to the throne.”
A smile curls one side of his lips. He’s handsome, but the darkness he carries and the fact that my core burns with hatred toward him for murdering Ikar makes his smile worthless to me.
“Why was it given to Ricard?” I’m more intrigued by the story than I should be.
“Our father thought Ricard was more worthy, but he never gave me a chance to truly prove myself.” His smile drops. “I attempted to retake the throne and was banished along with my many followers.”
“And then…?” I prompt.
“After years of war between us, Ricard approached Lucentia knowing that if she gave them lucent magic it would secure his position on the throne and stop the wars. She did. I, with no other resort but unwilling to give up hope, approached Gloam.” He spreads his hands wide.
“And as you can see, he gave us gloam, magic of the shadows.”
I try to process the information, but he doesn’t wait for my mind to catch up.
“Before we could learn to truly manipulate the magic we’d been given in order to fight back, Ricard locked our people away behind a wall of lucent so thick we had no way out for hundreds of years.
But suddenly, years ago, it began to weaken.
We salivated like starving dogs, watching it wear thin, knowing that lucent magic was weakening. ”
It’s quiet between the two of us for a moment.
Then he begins again, quietly this time.
“The first time I stepped through that prison wall, through the weak lucent that no longer had power over me, I saw the land I’ve fought for…
yearned for.” The distant look in his eyes makes it appear that he’s somewhere far away while still sitting before me.
“I’ve traveled it these past few years, you know.
Refamiliarized myself with every part of it… ”
A bud of compassion sprouts, and I quickly rip its roots from my heart.
His story is twisty, and I have difficulty sorting out the wrongs from the rights, but I refuse to let down my walls.
Instead of wondering if these people may indeed have a right to our kingdom, I need to figure out his motives, what makes him tick, how far he’ll let me push him.
I need to figure out the boundaries so I know which ones I can break.
I knowingly test his patience with another assumption.
“In our kingdom, gloam is only thriving because it’s like mold, eating away at what’s good.”
My comment has the opposite effect—a wide smile has his teeth gleaming in the shadows.
“That’s simply because no one there has the power to wield it.
It only destroys when left to its own devices.
Lucentia is the one who started this, you know.
Gloam simply tried to make things fair. Gloam, when controlled, can build beauty as you’ve never seen.
I’ll show you… soon. Not tonight, but soon. ”
His way of seeing things has me feeling uncomfortable. That can’t be right, can it?
“So if our kingdom leaves lucent behind and begins to use gloam, all will be well?”
Have I just solved our problem?
He chuckles. “Only those gifted the magic of Gloam can use it.”
“You plan to kill an entire kingdom of people?” I ask with horror.
“Some may die, and it would be as they deserve for their treatment of my people all these years. But no, I’m much more merciful than that.
Those who will peacefully comply will simply be without magic.
Absents, as your people would call them.
We will make adjustments to care for them.
” He waves a hand as if it’ll be a simple matter.
“At this point, lucent is so weak they should hardly have any difficulty adjusting.”
Those who peacefully comply? I think of the many people I know whose lives depend on their lucent magic, and those who loved Ikar as king. They would never accept this man as their ruler… which means many would die.
Including Darvy and Rhosse.
He stands and extends a hand to me. “Come. It’s time I show you what my people have been subjected to at the hands of Ricard and his descendants.”
I stand on my own, keeping my distance. He smirks, unhurt by my rejection, and leads me out the door. The misty hallways are eerie, and we only pass one servant who quickly bows to both of us on his way toward the dining room we left earlier. It’s quiet and lonely, and I don’t like it.
We arrive at a large black door with an enormous lock along its edge, covered by gloam so dense I can hardly see through it… and is there sand on the floor? I rub the toe of my boot in it. Sure enough, I feel the grittiness scrape across the hard surface.
I squint to watch closer as Renton waves the gloam away with a hand, then he pulls a set of keys dug from an inner pocket that jingle together and releases the lock with a distinct click.
I’m afraid to see what’s inside. I step back once, then twice, as if that will keep me from having to enter. My breath continues to puff in front of my face, and my nose is red with cold. I worry I’ll never be truly warm again after living in this gloam camp.
Renton pulls the door open and gestures for me to enter through the gloamy opening with a hand. I hesitate, fearing he’s about to throw me in a room with some awful creature and slam the door behind me.
I don’t miss his heavy sigh. “You won’t die. What happened to the bounty-hunting adventuress?”
Comforting words if there ever were any. I nearly roll my eyes. The bounty-hunting adventuress died with Ikar. I’ll never be the same. I’ve never wanted to live a solitary life alone in a cozy shop more than in this moment.
I glare at him as I tilt my chin up and gingerly step through, unsure what to expect.
But when I feel hot wind tousle my loose hair and my skin begins to tingle as it warms, I almost sigh with relief.
Sandy dunes spread before us, soft beneath my boots.
I’m tempted to lie on it, just knowing it holds the warmth of the suns, but I maintain my dignity and don’t move.
I do wonder, though, how we are here. There are no deserts in the Lucent Mountains.
“You like it here?” Renton inquires with another handsome smile, watching my reaction.
“It’s warm,” I admit.
“You just walked through the tear in the lucent wall, into the otherworldly prison that I and my soldiers were locked behind for hundreds of years. It’s warm until it’s hot.
Too hot. Scorching. This is where Ricard banished me.
To a desert where no fields can be planted, no clean rivers run, no trees grow for shade.
A place where no families followed,” he finishes with spite.
I can’t help but feel a rush of compassion toward him. Ricard does seem harsh.
He lifts a hand and showcases the scene before us.
“Now you see why I fought for so many years to regain the throne. Ricard, the noble king, wasn’t as perfect as everyone was led to believe.
My soldiers suffered here, and many died before we learned how to use gloam to live…
” He pauses for a moment, then continues.
“Now we’ve crossed back into Moneyre to build the camp we currently live in as we begin to recover the lives that were stolen from us.
Still, compare this to everything Moneyre holds. ”
He’s right. I’ve struggled to survive for the past several years, but I feel almost guilty for the life I’ve had compared to what he’s had to endure.
My mind races with the new information, and I have to remind myself he’s my captor, a murderer, not a long-lost friend or someone in need of pity.
In addition to that, I can’t figure out how it involves me, and of even greater concern, that he shares so much with me means it’s likely he doesn’t intend to release me alive… or at all.
I don’t want to hear any more of his heart-wrenching tale.
“Why did you capture me?” I get straight to the point while I savor the warmth bringing my appendages back to life.
He stares at the sandy dunes. “I saved you, actually. And now you can protect yourself by joining my ranks. Gloam is the future of Moneyre.”
I narrow my eyes. “I am no traitor.”
He scoffs sharply and looks my way. “You still offer your loyalty to them? Even after being forced into hiding and living in secrecy to protect your life? Hearing of the murder of your magical ancestors as if they were evil and being told you are evil, as well?”
That arrow hits the target dead center.
“What do you want?” I ask, tired. I simply want to curl up in my cold, eerie room and cry over Ikar.
His eyes light with a hint of desire. “You.”
“What for?” I can’t hide the exasperation in my voice.
But the pieces are beginning to click together. I know it before he says it, reminded of what Ikar and Rhosse told me about the gloam masters.
He grins. “Bridging.”
“It seems like that’s all I’m wanted for nowadays,” I say with acid in my voice. “But it appears you’ll need a new plan because I’m not powerful enough.”
Sweat gathers beneath my clothing in the sandy winds now, and I dread re-entering the cold castle and having it freeze on my skin.
I swallow so loudly I’m sure he can hear it from where he stands beside me—not my fault my throat is as dry as the sun-baked sand beginning to cover my boots. I need more water.
He laughs deeply. “So you refused the king? What an ironic ending to his reign,” he muses, as if to himself.
The arrogant smile on his lips makes me want to throw up.
I decline to mention that Ikar never actually asked me…
because he didn’t know I could… because I’d kept my secrets.
To think that I had a part in all of this.
The meager contents of my stomach roil like they’re going to come back up.
I swallow slowly as he continues talking.
“You’ve been told you’re not powerful enough?
” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. “It’s a lie, at least in regard to you.
The others are weak as injured butterflies with those bracelets they think will protect them—I can’t gauge their power.
I tracked all of you, waiting for years, and you were the only one daring enough to remove it.
That alone tells me you’re fit to be my queen.
The moment we bridge, gloam will grow. It will be an exquisite experience. ”
He was tracking me? I recall the dark shadows I’ve been seeing for the past few weeks.
How long was I watched and never knew? Along with that, our bracelets don’t weaken us…
do they? We’ve always been told we aren’t strong enough, that the bracelets were merely an extra layer of protection from the kings—
Renton interrupts my thoughts. “Lucentia finally sent a Tulip strong enough to bridge, and it’s you.”
I shake my head. “That can’t be true. The other Tulips haven’t struggled to pull luc—”
He taps his temple. “Strong doesn’t always mean the amount of magic a person has.”
I’m still shaking my head in denial. I’m not strong like that either. Look where I’ve gotten myself. So many mistakes… foolish decisions… and now Ikar is dead…
“Lucentia apparently felt the recently departed king had redeeming qualities, sending one of you with enough mental fortitude to go against the grain, to bridge with him and save the kingdom. You were her last effort, and he was horrifyingly close. The kings of Moneyre were absolute lunatics. Killing off their power source all those years ago, they’ve enabled us to return, and now we get to take advantage of Lucentia’s gift. You. Her weakness.”
“Her weakness…?” I murmur, but I remember Ikar saying something about this, and I’m not sure I want to hear Renton’s explanation.
“Yes. You see, that’s why she instructed the kings to protect her tulips so carefully.
You each carry a piece of her within you.
When you bridge with me, her plan will come crashing down around her.
” He eyes my neck as if he can see my mark through my clothing, and I instinctively grab the ends of my sleeves in my fists and pull them snug over my back even though the heat is growing oppressive.
“You don’t have to hide it here,” he says softly, an understanding compassion in his eyes that makes me want to weep.
What is he doing to me?
“Habit,” I say unapologetically, releasing my sleeves and shoving my hands in my pockets so my body language doesn’t betray me any more than it already has. “I’m not interested in helping.”
He steps closer, eyeing me thoughtfully. “I believe that will change, given time to see everything you’ve been missing. Our people know how to show true appreciation and respect for the Black Tulips. You’ll be worshipped.”
I’ve given enough excuses, but this is the best of them.
The weapon I’ve kept hidden.
My sharpest sword.
I watch closely for the way his face will fall when he hears it.
“Your efforts are wasted. I can only bridge with a king—and the only king where bridging will affect the entire kingdom as a whole is the high king.”
“The position has recently opened.” I feel his dirtbag smirk from here.
Anger curls my fingers into the fabric of my pockets. I don’t even feel guilt for how fiercely protective I feel of the high king. Please don’t be dead.
“Not happening,” I nearly spit.
If I wouldn’t bridge with Ikar, I’m sure as blazes not bridging with this creep.
I don’t see him move, but suddenly, cold gloam wraps around my throat, and I find his lips beside my ear. The gloam caresses my neck, riding the line between lover and threat.
“You will, and happily.”