A Palace of Cosmic Flame (The Jewel-Light Trilogy #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

What. The. Fuck?

My father trudged into the room, his tawny, leather boots scuffing across the hardwood floor as he closed the door behind him, shutting Sebastian out.

My father.

He was slightly shorter than I had envisioned him to be, though his stature appeared sturdy with broadened shoulders. Low-cut, graying hair laid unkempt upon his head, connecting in a five o’clock shadow along the base of his squared, dimpled chin.

There was no mistaking who he was. His eyes were exactly as my mother had always described them, matching my hazel ones in every respect.

“Hello, Maeve.” His voice had an intimidating gravel to it, though in a contradictory fashion the low tone was also mildly comforting.

My kneecaps wobbled, abruptly frail as I stumbled backwards, gravitating back down to the mattress I had only just found the strength to rise from.

“Am I dead?” The man I had been longing to meet for my entire existence stood before me, and those were the only words I could seem to muster up in this moment.

I prodded at my cheeks, gingerly pinching the flushed skin to ensure that I could still detect the sting.

A chuckle dislodged from deep within his throat. “No, Maeve. You’re not dead.”

My brain bounced against the walls of my skull as my head churned, the soft waves of my chestnut hair sliding out from behind my ears. “But you’re—”

“Alive.”

Impossible.

“Then this must be a dream. You were killed in the war against Draemor over twenty years ago. I was hardly even a year old.”

My finger nails felt like talons as I jabbed them into the fleshy part of my palm, using the irritation to assure myself that I was actually breathing.

“This isn't real. It can’t be real.” My fight-or-flight response assaulted me, and despite demanding him to leave just moments before, I almost wished that Sebastian would burst back through the door.

Archer—my very-much-so-alive father—took a cautious step towards me. “We have a lot to talk about—years’ worth of things to talk about. I’m sure you’re confused—”

“Confused?” I barked while I simultaneously switched my pacifying hand prodding to the other palm. “Confused doesn’t even begin to explain what I’m feeling right now.”

“I imagine this is difficult for you—all of this unknown. Please rest assured that I will explain everything.” Archer sighed, scratching his nails along his scalp.

My quivering fingers found the pendant that always dangled over my chest, and thanks to the pounding of the organ behind my ribs, I knew one thing.

I was alive.

Sebastian and my friends—all alive.

My father? Alive.

Any ordinary person would have felt overjoyed. But the pain of Sebastian's betrayal in collaboration with the amazement of discovering that my father lived, instead of lying decomposed in the dirt, left my mind not knowing exactly what to feel.

My father crossed the short threshold of the room, closing the space between us. Attention from his kind eyes stayed firmly established upon me as he approached. He seemed hesitant to do so, but seated himself on the bed beside me.

Although I should have felt apprehensive about being so close to a stranger, his presence improved a fragment of the whirling emotions inside of me. As if my soul knew he was blood.

He smelt of earth—so natural and sugary that it could almost be compared to maple syrup in its early stages of production. Sap from freshly prodded wood that had been poured into a terracotta pot. Yeah—that was it.

“I’m sure you’re going to have many questions. From what your boyfriend told me, you seem to be full of them.” Archer let out a chuckle that reminded me of Delani, just before his cheeks rounded out with a widespread smile that reminded me of me.

Boyfriend. The title made me physically cringe as my heart jolted, driving the rest of my body to recoil in distress.

Could I even call Sebastian that anymore? Did I even want to?

I hadn’t let him fully explain himself, but I genuinely doubted that a thorough breakdown of events would matter.

Even knowing the foundation of what he hid left me unsure about where I stood with him—or where I even wanted to stand with him.

The truth of the matter dismantled me, destroying everything I thought I knew, and leaving me to question if I truly understood Sebastian half as well as I’d thought.

At the moment, not a single thing seemed real. Hell, I still didn’t know where I was. The room surrounding me was entirely unfamiliar, from the windowpanes to the brass drawer-pulls on the dresser.

“I don’t even know what to ask,” I muttered under my breath. My expression locked on the secured door in front of me, the stability of it marginally increasing my sense of control.

The mattress shuffled as my father adjusted himself.

He turned his stubbled neck to the side, pulling my gaze into his glossed-over eyes.

“Before I even begin to try and explain, may I hug you? I have not held my little girl since you were an infant, and I have missed that curly-haired child more than anything in this universe.”

I swallowed, but agreed with a barely visible upward nod of my head.

Within seconds, I found myself wrapped in his burly arms. The buttons of his flannel shirt brushed against a portion of my skin that was still inflamed, the pain jolting me into subtle recoil that only made him hold tighter.

Though I did not feel inclined to reciprocate the embrace, I allowed him to take what he craved from the daughter he thought he had lost.

It was weird. Because for my entire life, I had dreamt about meeting the man who embraced me.

I had prayed to every god for his soul to visit me in my sleep—hoping that a dream could revive my infantile memory of him.

When I was ten, I drew charcoal sketches of what I envisioned him to look like for months.

My mother would compare the versions side by side and give me suggestions so my next attempt could be even more accurate.

Though I had always wished for this impossible encounter to morph into a reality, the feelings I expected never came.

It was quite possible that the shock of everything was settling in, preventing my emotions from expelling properly. Perhaps it was my uncertainty about whether this was real, or if it was life beyond the veil that was making me feel so vividly empty.

“Gods, my sweet Maeve. I have been waiting for this day for almost twenty-one years. I have missed you and your sister so unbelievably much.” His voice cracked with his confession as his breath flowed through my hair, where he had nuzzled his face.

My already jittery heart rate rerouted, patterning to a rhythm that resembled pouring rain. “Delani is dead.” My voice could not have been more flat and monotonous.

At last, Archer released me from the confines of his embrace. A beautiful smile found his lips as he shook his head, denying my claim. “No. She is not.”

I sat further upright at that.

Okay. Now I was sure that I was dreaming.

“Our village was destroyed by Draemornians. Burned to ash. From what I was told, not an inch of the land or its civilians were spared.” I had to force the horrific words to flee my lips, the bite of the truth still as strong as when I had first found out about the attack.

“Correct, but Delani was removed from Vierallo before the attack. One of my trusted companions found her by the shore a few days before the Draemornian troops arrived. She has been here with me for over a week now.”

My eyes bulged so wide that my eyelids met my brows, sticking to them like they were coated in an unrelenting layer of glue.

“Where is she? Is my mother here, too?” A glimmer of hope sparked in my chest that maybe— just maybe—she still breathed, too.

That glimmer was promptly extinguished as Archer’s frown answered before his words could. With only my cocked eyebrow as a response, he said, “There is so much that I need to explain. Are you feeling well enough to receive this information now? I can come back—”

“No. Now.” I was already filled to the brim with confusion, why not let it overflow?

“Very well.” Rising to his feet, Archer directed his steps to the wall adjacent from the door. He relaxed against it, facing me with his arms crossed. “We are in the Kingdom of Lumosia. A kingdom crafted by the gods, with the sole purpose of protecting you.”

The gods? What the fuck was he talking about?

My head jolted backwards. “You’ve already lost me.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his beige slacks. “Let me start from the beginning. You obviously have discovered Blythe’s prophecy, and based on the markings you wear on your arms, it’s been fulfilled?” He phrased it as a question, but we both knew it was a fact.

I nodded, peeking down at the swirling, iridescent stars that climbed my flesh like rogue vines.

“Blythe put that prophecy into place centuries ago when the other gods deemed her power too mighty for this world. When the enchanter helped the goddess craft the terms of her prophecy, Blythe chose your soul to place her gift upon.”

With a scrunched up facial expression, I slowly bobbed my head and sassed, “This isn’t news to me.”

“Gods, you sounded just like Margot when you said that.” Archer snorted under his breath, and the comparison to my mother made my heart cramp.

“Shortly after banishing her soul into the constellastone statue that you so brilliantly destroyed, the other gods realized their mistake, and chaos ensued. But at that point, it was too late. What they had done could not be reversed,” he explained, reiterating what Blythe had told me.

Scooting closer to the edge of the mattress, I planted my feet firmly on the floor in a very literal attempt at grounding myself. “But it was reversed. That's why I’m here. That’s why I even exist.”