Chapter 23 Rhea
Rhea
The study hall sits empty except for me. Dust motes dance in the light from tall windows. A perfect place to disappear into research without facing glares from the few staff left behind.
I spread Phoebe’s materials across the table: ancient ballads, children’s songs, and poems about Heratrix, carefully organized with her meticulous notes in the margins. One notation catches my eye.
Recurring theme of power under the earth in early versions, removed in later tellings. Censorship?
Hours pass as I dig through tales of the disappeared Goddess.
Each story follows the same pattern. Heratrix vanishes, the world mourns, life continues without her.
Nothing about imprisonment, nothing about return.
In fact, there’s very little at all. The most momentous event of our realm, and there are but scraps.
When my eyes burn and my neck cramps, I push the scrolls aside and grab one of Phoebe’s blank leather notebooks. I should document my memories while they’re fresh, before they slip away.
I write down the vision of the glyphs first, then the one from the tavern, every detail I can recall. Tahranis Flarebane with his white hair and amber eyes. The stone table. The drugged haze. Being called Omneira. My hand trembles slightly as the words flow onto the page.
Then I pause, tapping the pencil against my lips. What about the dream? Do I include that? My stomach twists with the uncomfortable thought I had earlier. What if it wasn’t just a dream? What if, during that missing year, I was with this Tahranis? What if I was intimate with him?
“No,” I mutter, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t.”
But… a year is a long time. I have no idea what happened to me, what I might have done. The woman I was a year ago—the one Vaylen fell in love with—am I still her?
Vaylen is a jealous man. I remember how he reacted a year ago when I asked whether he’d be angry if I was not exclusive. He literally growled, said I was his, and that he’d kill anyone who touched me.
He would hate me.
But what if—
“This is ridiculous!” I snap, slamming my palm against the table hard enough to make everything jump. “I’m sitting here worried about Vaylen’s feelings when I don’t even know if that was a real memory.”
The sound echoes through the empty hall, punctuating my frustration. I glare at the notebook, half-written revelations staring back at me. Did these things even happen? Am I really worried about the possibility that I did something with that man? Or that I might be completely losing my mind?
I toss the pencil down with a frustrated sigh. Tonight, Vaylen and I are supposed to meet, to reconnect, to make love after a year apart. But how can I possibly let him touch me when these visions haunt me? When I don’t know if I’ve been with someone else?
“Damn it all to the seven hells,” I mutter, running my hands through my hair. I can’t lie to him, not after promising no more secrets between us. But the truth might destroy what we have.
“Hey Vaylen, before we get naked, I should mention I might have been sleeping with my kidnapper for the past year. That or I might be going insane. Your choice which is worse,” I say under my breath.
Footsteps echo in the corridor outside, sharp and purposeful against the stone floor. I straighten, quickly gathering the papers into a haphazard pile.
The study hall door swings open. Commander Voltguard stands there, face grim as winter, flanked by two men in gray uniforms. Not Claws in dark blue. Not Skyriders in black or brown. Gray like Emberton police officers.
My heart plummets to my stomach. They’re here to take me to the trial.
I rise from my chair, spine rigid, heart slamming against my ribs. Commander Voltguard nods, and there’s something in her expression I’ve never seen before. Regret?
The reason for her apologetic expression comes waltzing through the doorway behind her, strutting like a peacock in borrowed plumage. Chief Inspector Victor Cragmere, his bald head gleaming in the afternoon light, his ridiculous curled mustache twitching with satisfaction.
“There she is,” he announces, jabbing a stubby finger in my direction. “Officers, arrest Rhealyn Rose Wyndward for the murder of Neutro Mortimer Cindergrasp.”
The officers move forward, hands on their sword hilts. My fingers twitch, instinctively reaching for my power that I’ve ignored since coming back.
For a heartbeat, I imagine how easy it would be.
A flick of my mind, a surge of power, and Cragmere would slam against the wall like a rag doll.
I could test if my Wind Spear would finally work.
It would be fitting, wouldn’t it? The same power that killed my mother used on the man so desperate to avenge Cindergrasp.
—Do it, Zephyros’s voice slithers through my mind, savage and eager. These insects are nothing to us. A breath of wind, a moment of chaos, and we fly free. Mount me, and we will vanish beyond their reach.
The temptation burns through me like a brand. One burst of power and I’d be outside these walls, astride silver scales, nothing but open sky above us. Freedom calls with a siren’s voice. Tempting. So tempting.
I look at Cragmere’s smug face, at his meticulously groomed mustache that curls like a sleeping viper. How satisfying it would be to see dread replace that smugness, to watch him scramble away as he realizes what I’m truly capable of.
My fingers twitch. Power hums beneath my skin.
But then I remember why I’m here. I’ve already lost a year of my life, stolen by a bunch of lunatics under a mountain. I won’t lose more by running.
“Chief Inspector Cragmere,” I say with fake enthusiasm. “You came all the way to Fort Ashmire for me? What an honor. But wait, I’m curious… were you hiding in a broom closet waiting for your chance to pounce once the High Prime was gone?”
His mustache twitches with irritation. “Your insolence won’t serve from here on out, girl.”
I extend my wrists for the manacles, flashing a smile sharp enough to cut. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
The metal closes around my wrists with a cold finality. Commander Voltguard won’t meet my eyes now. Coward.
“Tell my Prime that…” I begin, but stop myself.
What could I possibly say? Sorry I’ll miss our date? Don’t worry about me if they put me in prison?
“That I’ll see him when I return from Emberton, ready to join my Clutch in the front lines.”
“Emberton?” Cragmere’s mustache twitches with delight at my assumption. “Oh no, my dear. Your trial will be expedited, even more than normal.”
Something in his tone makes my skin crawl.
“His Majesty wishes to make an example of you,” he continues, smoothing his mustache with one pudgy finger.
“The trial will take place right here in Fort Ashmire so that the entirety of the Sky Order can bear witness and learn that crimes against the King and his servants are punished with all the weight of the law.”
The air rushes from my lungs. “Here?” I whisper, the word barely audible even to myself. In front of everyone I know. In front of Phoebe and Adelaide and Nate and Silas. In front of Vaylen.
I’d been counting on the trial happening in Emberton, far from the watchful eyes of my friends and enemies. I’d imagined facing strangers, not the people I’ve trained with, flown with, fought beside. Not the man I… I’m with.
Moreover, I have no advocate. Nate hasn’t even had a chance to send word to his uncle.
My cheeks burn hot with humiliation, but I force my spine straight.
“You’re making it sound like the King wants me to be guilty.
I bet he’s actually thinking that the faster this is over with, the faster I can get back on my dragon and fight our enemies for the glory of Embernia.
Not very smart of you to let your true feelings show. Aren’t you supposed to be impartial?”
“Mind your tongue,” he hisses.
I bare my teeth at him. “Or what? You’ll use two sets of manacles?”
Cragmere smiles, his eyes as cold as midwinter. “Your defiance is noted. I look forward to watching it crumble when your sentence is read. The death penalty sits in the balance.”
What?!
Murder doesn’t carry the death penalty in Embernia. Only being discovered as an uncleansed Weaver does. Oh, Goddess! Do they know?
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. Surely they don’t, and they can’t execute me here, in front of Vaylen? The thought of him having to watch... No. I won’t let that happen. I can’t.
“When?” I demand, my voice betraying none of the terror clawing at my insides.
“Tomorrow at dawn,” Cragmere says. “The High Prime and his contingent should return just in time to see justice served. And not just that, His Majesty himself will be here.” He turns to the Commander. “That is why, everything should be done according to the instructions I provided.”