Chapter 124 Myla #2
Both Navin and I falter in our next steps, our eyes meeting over a chasm of confusion before we rush to one of the nearby glass sliders, opening it and stepping out onto a small balcony.
The air is brisk despite the afternoon hour, and though unimpeded sunlight casts the courtyard below in a buttery glow, shadows lurk at the corners.
Guards, dozens deep, line the space in every direction, their silver armor gleaming.
My father sits upon his throne at the top of the stone dais, his black spire crown making him look even larger.
Next to him, my mother wears a gown of dark plum, her headdress beaded with gold and pearls.
In front of them both is Father Yamin, His Holiness in his traditional black robe with his hand outstretched to the right, as if waiting for someone to join him.
And then someone does.
Walking out from a line of guards is a fae male.
He’s tall, towering over the father and the brethren that flank him.
He moves with just the slightest limp, and his hands stay fisted at his side as if ready to throw a punch at any moment.
My mother is already standing when he gets close, her outstretched for him.
I lean in closer, noting the tears that play down her cheeks, a show of emotion I’ve never seen from her before.
As if they’ve all just realized who the male is, a gasp rolls over the crowd in a wave, fae standing from stone benches as they grip the arm of the person next to them or clasp their hand over their mouth.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, tensing when the male comes to stand in front of my father after hugging my mother.
For a long moment, no one moves, but then the king of the fae stands and wraps his arms around the man, their conversation muted by the cheering and hollering of the crowd surrounding them.
“Who is that?” I ask, unable to look away. Unable to fucking fathom my father caring enough about any fae to hug them like that in public. Not once had I seen him show that level of caring towards Navin—and certainly not towards me.
Again, Navin lets silence answer, so I look at him, a line carved between my brows.
“Navin, who is that?”
His hands squeeze the white stone railing as his breaths grow shallow. Swallowing, he keeps his gaze pinned on the king still hugging the male below. “That is the true heir to the Fae Kingdom. King Kamon Ryuu’s first born.”
“What?” I hiss, my gaze bouncing from Navin to the commotion down below. “That’s impossible.”
“I recognize him, Myla. I remember what he looked like.” His voice cracks. “That’s Shah.”
Shah is alive. I hunch low over Sunis as she flies us to the beach, that phrase on a loop in my head.
Fucking stars above, how in the hell is he alive?
My father had seen him dragged away by the sirens, had lamented about his death for centuries, yet the bastard had been…
what? Hiding away? Tucked into some cave or hidden amongst a small town, while the rest of us were forced to endure a kingdom under the rule of a broken king and a zealous fanatic?
Calm. The word forms over the pathway in my mind, and I blow out a breath at the dragon’s command.
I just found out that the rider bonded to your mother is alive, I respond, testing Sunis’s ability to understand more than just a quick word.
I’m surprised when her body jerks as she processes the information, a blend of emotions returning to me.
I detect confusion and longing but also happiness and relief.
Could this be why Bali never bonded again?
Not because she didn’t want to because she somehow knew that Shah was alive?
I grit my teeth as the Spell and the shoreline beyond become visible over Sunis’s head.
Or was the real reason my father wanted Bali so that he could force her to bond with someone pretending to be Shah?
Sunis begins to descend, flying us through the thin layers of mist that hover over the mountain peaks. When we break through the final layer, a wave of shock travels abruptly down the bond and Sunis angles her wings to dive towards the ground.
“What is it?” I call out.
My blood ices over when she replies. Dying.
I look her over from what I can see at this vantage point. I hadn’t noticed any wounds on her when she picked me up at the palace, but maybe I missed something in my own confusion about the news with Shah. I don’t see anything!
Sunis doesn’t respond, instead letting gravity do its work as we head towards the ground at neck-breaking speed.
A scream lodges itself in my throat, but at the last minute, Sunis flattens her wings, leveling as we approach the Spell.
Pain, she says, flooding my system with the feel of it.
Again, I look her over, my own unease rising when I still spot nothing.
Sunis turns at an angle, and I let my gaze trace down the long line of her wing and then beyond it, to a shade of ruby waiting on the beach.
A riotous sensation travels from my stomach up to my chest at the sight of Aria, the siren having occupied my thoughts often since our last meeting.
Yet, as we get closer, that excitement is quickly replaced with fear as I realize something is horribly wrong.
We land seconds later, and I quickly unseat myself to run to Sunis’s front leg, sliding down the smooth scales before leaping the last few feet onto the sand.
My arms pump furiously at my sides as I rationalize the fact that Aria is on the fae side of the fucking Spell.
“Aria!” Sliding on my knees, I gently turn her over, her eyes fluttering as they struggle to meet mine. “Aria, what happened?”
She groans and flexes her hand where it’s laying on her stomach, and when I move it, my eyes widen at the grisly sight.
She’s been gutted. Three large holes pierce her stomach, leaking dark blue blood onto the sand.
I hadn’t seen it with the way her body was curled up, but up close now, I can smell it.
The air is tainted with the scent of iron, signifying just how much she’s lost. And she’s on this fucking side of the Spell!
“Fuck!” I shout, laying my hands over her abdomen to slow the bleeding.
Sunis’s panicked emotions flood my mind and mix with my own, making it difficult to think clearly.
Aria groans again, her eyes rolling back in her head.
“No, stay with me.” I abandon her gouges to cradle her face, my bloodstained hands leaving their mark on her. “Aria, stay awake.”
“I’m s-sorry,” she rasps, coughing and speckling my arms with her blood.
Not once, in all the years I have flayed others open and spilled their blood, have I ever been sick at the sight of it.
But as I look at how it glistens against my leathers, I find myself ill at the knowledge that it’s hers.
That someone hurt her here—just feet from our cavern, where she had been waiting for me.
“How can I help you?” I ask, frenzied. Terrified by the proof that she is dying. “Aria, tell me how—”
“It’s alright. Y-you already have.”
“No, fuck that. No!” Taking my cloak off, I lay it next to me before carefully scooping her into my arms. “Aria, wake up!”
The bark of my voice makes her eyelids lift again, the bright color of her irises dimmed as if shadows have bled behind them.
Her skin is too cold, her body too limp, and as I lay her down on the cloak, pulling the fabric tightly around her, I think this might be worse than any whipping, any punishment I’ve endured.
Watching Aria die had once been something I craved, and now that it is happening?
I can’t imagine a worse fate. For her. For me.
I pick her back up and take her to Sunis, my dragon letting out a high-pitched sound that I’ve never heard her make before as we near.
She does her best to help me mount by extending her front leg, and within a few moments, Aria and I are strapped to her back, my siren tucked into my arms. “I can take you to a healer,” I think out loud, my fingers gripping her tightly.
But that would only address her most pressing injuries and not the fact that she went through the Spell.
That’s assuming they don’t kill her once they realize she’s a siren.
Looking down at her, I watch as she blinks and stares back up at me.
“Please tell me what to do,” I whisper, anger and sadness a toxic blend within me.
Aria’s hand moves beneath the cloak, and I carefully peel the fabric back so that she has full range of motion.
She reaches up in jerky movements, like the effort is too much.
But when her fingers find the side of my face, when she attempts to smile through blood-crusted lips, something decidedly breaks within me.
There has to be something that can help, that can stop the effects of the Spell—
I inhale sharply, tracing the tips of my fingers down Aria’s cheek. The dagger. The one given to my father by Queen Lucia. It’s meant to be used before crossing the Spell, but maybe—
Aria’s lips part on a breath, her gaze latching on to mine. “Rhea M-Maxwell,” she says, her eyelids fluttering closed. “Mage Kingdom.”