60
The winds of night chased through Valine, every cold kiss and harsh bite from the zephyrs forcing her to contemplate if they were sent from restless spirits.
She was struggling to wrap her mind around the fact that the Stygian Ones existed, even if not in the fashion Tallohians believed.
The wind nipped her again.
Just then, she heard the shuffle of feet and whirled with her necromancy raised. There, swathed in a gray traveling cloak, golden hair wild and unbound with a lioness gaze, was Cersei.
“So, you figured it out?” Cersei asked, an edge to her voice.
Valine inclined her head. “You are from Eilassor.”
“I am.”
Through secrets and snooping in Talloh, Valine had discovered Cersei had no history or witnesses pertaining to all of Enneive. Everything she’d heard had been fabricated and easily unraveled after a little inquiry. It was through thorough watching that she’d deduced the truth. What she’s also gleaned was that Cersei was a mage—and now confirmed through Mrithun, her father, she didn’t even know what kind.
Upon arriving back in Adraali the concern wouldn’t leave her, and so, she wrote a coded letter to Cersei and asked her to meet in the woods outside of Nyxia. Finally, she’d arrived.
“How?” Valine queried.
“Magic. And much risk.”
“Why?”
“I knew too much, and I did not agree with their ideals. I sought change and thought I found it in Talloh, but I was wrong about their morals. I’m hoping Adraali has what I am looking for.”
“So, you came here with what purpose? To liberate us from their attack? To find peace in a new life?”
“I don’t think I can trust you yet, Valine Desdemon.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Valine was unsettled by the fact she couldn’t address Cersei in the same fashion. “But, if you dislike some methods of Talloh’s operation, perhaps we may speak of an understanding. That is, if you do not betray me.”
There was a lingering breath of silence between them. Where the two stared each other down and remained unmoved.
Could Cersei be the one sent from the unknown patrons? Could she be Valine’s opposite in the coming conflict?
The silence held a moment longer.
Finally, it was broken.
“I was not the one who killed during the Tri-Moon Festival,” Cersei said without any prompting.
Valine hadn’t thought so, but the confirmation was nice. “I know.” Valine took a step forward. “Do you have magic, Cersei?”
Cersei froze, eyes flickering, despite the way she controlled her emotions.
“That would be a yes,” Valine continued. “What is it?”
“Something that will haunt your dreams.”
Valine twisted her magic in her hand and manifested it for Cersei to see. “I would encourage you to tell me.”
“I’d rather show you,” Cersei said without fear, and then stepped back. “But in the meantime, think if our morals align—if they do, let me know, because you may have gained yourself a dearest ally.”
And with that, Cersei dispersed into smoke, leaving not a trace behind.
She’d completely vanished.
Valine stared in shock, standing on the cliff, suddenly alone with all her new revelations. Mrithun, Cersei, Stygian Ones…
Valine shivered in her cloak, weaving her way back into the palace, taking a shortcut that ran through the throne room. It was empty and flickered with weak candlelight and abstract shafts of moonlight through the glass ceiling. It was when she entered the dark stone space that she stopped.
This was where her journey was cemented. It wasn’t inside that basement, nor when she killed Captain Ishaq. It was here, after she thought she’d saved Freyja from her own magic, where Malik lounged on the dais. She’d revealed that she killed her father, and he didn’t flinch. The serpent was still embossed in the floor, the chandelier still hung, the skylights still fractured stained glass, and the throne still stood.
Dark and elegant on the dais it beckoned to her. Valine stepped forward and slowly ascended the steps. She took measured breaths and measured steps. Finally, with the throne before her, she looked down at the gold and iron and velvet. Tentatively, she reached down and touched it with a finger, the very finger that held her consort ring. A ring that could be the symbol of her marriage.
Knowing of the Stygian Ones and their forces changed the game. Changed the stakes. It wasn’t just her vengeance that fueled her, but her love for Malik and the life she wanted to lead with him on their terms. Not on the whims of the unknown powers. Not on the terms of invaders.
She stroked the arm of the chair once and then turned. Looking over at the sea of jet, at the snake and orchids on the floor of the cathedral-like space, Valine slowly sat, set her hands on the arms, and crossed her legs.
Just then, Malik entered the throne room and approached curiously, garbed in black, devotion shining in his eyes.
“Valine?”
She inclined her chin. “We have much to discuss, My King.” She smiled. “And you and I are going to get exactly what we want.”
Malik slowly grinned and crossed over to her.
This was her kingdom.
This was her throne.
And she was going to be the undying fucking queen of it all.