Chapter 24
Twigs snapped and cracked beneath our feet as Glade and I made our way through the dense, shadowy forest behind the castle’s meadow.
I’d love to say I didn’t feel a twinge of anxiety as we passed beneath the towering oak trees again, but that would be a lie.
The last time I ventured into these woods, I had fallen down a hole and broken several bones.
Just the thought of it made my steps falter, each one feeling heavy with reluctance.
And yet, I couldn’t ignore the thrill bubbling inside me.
Glade had told me all about the Fae and mentioned that we’d be flying to Cylvaris on dragon-back, his admission tumbling out as soon as we left the castle grounds.
He warned me of the dangers, but honestly, I couldn’t care less.
The idea of seeing Mir again and, more importantly, having the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of riding a dragon left me exhilarated with anticipation.
Who else on Earth could say they’d ridden a dragon?
Though, my heart ached with sorrow for the Fae. Now that I had confirmation that I was from Domus, I could relate to their sense of displacement—the feeling of having no home left to return to, of being visitors in a foreign world, intruders in a place that wasn’t meant for them.
I had now met a few people from worlds that no longer existed, and each encounter left me with an overwhelming sense of pity.
But as I spoke with them, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was a fraud.
They had lived through the devastation when the Tenebrae attacked their worlds.
They had witnessed the destruction, the world-ending violence, and felt the raw panic and despair that followed.
They had lost everything: their homes, their families, in a matter of moments.
Of course, there was a possibility that I had been on Domus during the attack. But even if I had been, which was inexplicable, I had no memory of it whatsoever. I couldn’t recall anything about its people or my parents. I had no sense of what Domus was even like within this star system.
Had Domus been a warm planet? A cold one? Had it boasted lush vegetation or vast deserts that stretched endlessly? Had the people of Domus been kind and considerate, or hardened and stoic? I had no answers, but I yearned to learn anything about my true home.
I wished I could relate to my homeland and my people, but right now, I didn’t feel like they were truly mine. My heart still belonged to Earth, even though its population had never welcomed or accepted me as one of their own.
The Tenebrae had stolen the life I was meant to live. They had taken everything from billions of people across the universe —and they had taken everything from me, too.
This single thought ignited a fury in my chest, a fire that spread through my very essence. It became my driving force. I would do whatever it took to become the most powerful version of myself. And when I did, I would crush them—no matter the cost, even if it meant my own downfall.
“Are you sure you can handle this, Princess? Dragon riding isn’t for the weak of heart. I’d hate for you to lose your lunch… Or worse, fall,” Glade teased, his back turned as he swatted away the long branches that blocked his view.
“Falling from dragon-back sounds like a badass way to die. I’d be honored,” I shot back, trying my best to sound tough and assured.
He pointed to one of the soaring mountain peaks that loomed in the sky. “You’d fall straight down onto one of those spikes. Splat!” He chortled, squishing his hands together as if he were squashing a bug.
My stomach twisted into knots. That did not sound badass at all. Still, I was determined to go through with it. I could be courageous. I could be strong.
Amantius’ Light flows through you… Amantius’ Light flows through you…
“I am not afraid of riding a dragon,” I declared, forcing my chin up high. “I couldn’t be more excited to ride Mir to Cylvaris. I’m ready to claim my power and fight the Tenebrae. Until the end.”
Glade jerked, halted, and turned completely around to face me. His eyes swept from my feet to my head as if he were assessing something I couldn’t quite identify. With his brows furrowed together in the shape of a V, he grunted in response.
As he spun around to continue down the path, a blur of motion in the peripheral of my eye caught my attention.
Before I had time to react, Glade drew his sword and leapt into the brush of the forest. “Oi!” he bellowed, commanding the figure to freeze.
A lean figure, dressed in black robes, crouched near the forest floor about thirty feet away. Gradually, it stood up, rising to its feet.
Glade’s voice rang out again, sharp and authoritative, instructing the figure to halt and remove their hood. Sometimes, I forget that he was, indeed, a prince.
In one swift motion, the person pulled back their hood and stood tall with perfect regal posture. Before us stood Queen Peyni Everkain, her face contorted with the wrath of a thousand suns as she glared daggers at her son.
“And who do you think you are, drawing your blade at me, Glade Everkain?” she hissed, her tone laced with venom.
Glade hastily sheathed his sword, spluttering, “Mother! Oh Goddess, I’m so sorry. What on Ornath are you doing out here?”
Her brows knitted in irritation as she stepped through the brush, drawing closer.
Her vexation radiated off her in waves, as intense as steam rising from boiling water.
“I’m picking wild berries,” she icily retorted.
“The kitchen staff makes an excellent pie with them. But I owe you no explanation, child.”
Glade scanned the forest, his eyes darting around as if expecting danger. “Where are your guards? Mother, it’s not safe for you to be out here alone. What if someone finds you? Or worse, what if you run into a wild animal?”
The queen let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I prefer not to have an entourage following me all hours of the day, Glade. It seems imprudent to have guards trailing me just to pick a few berries for dessert. Like everyone else, I enjoy some time to myself, to be alone with my thoughts in peace.”
The queen’s tense expression softened, giving way to exhaustion and dread. “Sometimes I tell them I’m bathing and sneak out through my chamber window. Please, don’t tell your father. He would never let me out of his sight again.”
Understanding spread across Glade’s face. “Of course, Mother. I won’t say a thing. You have my word.” He mimed zipping his lips and tossing away an imaginary key with a playful wink.
“Thank you,” she said, one corner of her mouth rising into a smirk.
But then, her gaze shifted to me and cooled. The sweetness vanished, replaced by a sharp, no-nonsense scowl.
“What are you two doing out here, alone?” she questioned, her eyelids narrowing as she addressed Glade without acknowledging my presence.
Glade placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and leaned against it.
“I’m on my way to Cylvaris to meet with the elder Fae,” he told her, hesitating only briefly before continuing.
“I have questions for them regarding, well…” He trailed off, searching for a diplomatic way to explain. “Tenebranian matters.”
Was the queen not privy to the same information as her sons and husband?
“Hm.” The queen nodded, scrutinizing Glade as if assessing the truth of his words. “And why is Miss Jane accompanying you to Cylvaris to meet the elder Fae? Surely, she is needed here at the castle, with Jion.” Her eyes tapered into a shrewd squint as she studied the two of us.
The sweet and mild demeanour of the woman I had shared tea with just days ago felt like a distant memory. Before me stood a mother filled with suspicion, questioning why her son’s fiancée was venturing so far away with his brother. I couldn’t blame her.
Before Glade could respond, I stepped forward, positioning myself between them. “I have questions for the Fae as well—questions about ancient matters.”
The queen’s stare remained doubtful, her chin lowering as she considered our admission.
Though I could sense her simmering frustration, she paced closer to Glade, her movements calm.
She adjusted the worn leather straps crossing his chest over his brown tunic, then brushed away imaginary dust from his shoulder.
Finally, she lifted her hands to affectionately cup his face.
“You will be careful on your travels, yes?” she demanded rather than asked, her eyes locking fiercely onto Glade’s, their matching ocean-blues reflecting like mirrors.
“Do not act rashly or foolishly. I have no desire to receive a letter from the elder Fae informing me that my youngest son has disrespected them and is now rotting in their dungeons, hm?”
“Of course, Mother,” he replied, cupping her hands before pulling them away from his cheeks.
The queen pivoted to address me. “And take care of Miss Jane. Goddess knows your father will lose his mind if he hears anything has happened to her. I trust you can protect her adequately.”
Glade smirked as he patted the hilt of his sword. “I am the best bodyguard Ornath has to offer, Mother.”
The queen rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder a light pat in parting. She turned and disappeared back into the bushes, resuming her search for wild berries in the quiet solitude she seemed to crave.
As Glade and I continued down the path toward the mountain, I couldn’t help but ponder the queen and the life she’d led.
How tragic it was that this woman, torn from her family, would never see or speak to them again.
How bleak, to have to sneak out of her own chambers just to steal a moment of privacy.
Surrounded by guards and servants, yet utterly alone.
An unfortunate life, I thought. And then a chill ran through me as I realized I might be staring at a future version of myself.
“Hello, gorgeous.” Glade beamed, his smile stretching from ear to ear as we entered the dragon pit on the mountain plateau.