Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
This will no longer be your home.
Her uncle’s words left a sour ache in her stomach.
Yes, relationships here were strained from recent events, but did they really want her gone forever? Fessyk’s heart was stone when he uttered those remorseless words.
The king and queen couldn’t have known. Fessyk was making this decision without them, that was the only explanation. Her family had kept her safe all this time, why send her away now?
Her steps down the silent corridor grew frantic as she neared the chapel.
“Mother?” She quietly peered into the chamber. She couldn’t remember the last time she set foot in here, as she didn’t pray anymore.
The only response was her own echo. She could have sworn the queen said she was coming here.
Helaina’s eyes scanned the space corner to corner.
Light reflected through the stained glass windows.
Shadows of emerald, indigo, and ruby danced along the wooden pews.
Her gaze met the muraled wall depicting many of their beloved gods.
Ures, in the very middle, screamed a battle cry while he wielded his trusted axe.
His brethren battled behind him. Ures had thrived during the immortal wars, when gods invaded each other’s realms. It was the whole reason Lynor came to be, to create peace among infinite beings.
The mural did its best to portray their renowned deities, but there was no way of knowing if the pictures were accurate. Gods hadn’t walked among them since the beginning. That was countless generations before Helaina was born.
Behind Ures, other gods battled with one another, as it had been before Lynor was created. Brahm was pictured in the background, palm to the earth’s surface as one of the first mortals’ hands reached up from beneath cracks in the land. Brahm had made them, he was one of the first, a primordial.
Some immortals embodied strong, sculpted men, others were like sultry women.
There were gods that brought the tides, gods that celebrated peace and love.
Some possessed more animallike features, soaring through the sky with wings at their backs, or clawing at one another with talons for fingers.
Behind the chaos of the battle, her eyes connected with one image in particular.
Valhoor, the God of Death.
Helaina shuddered at the grotesque horned face cloaked in black.
His eyes were deep wells, staring right back at her.
There was a lithe, feminine hand digging its pointed nails into the Death God’s shoulder.
Only the claiming grip was clear, the body attached to that hand obscured in charcoal.
The artist had been brave to draw it. Helaina knew who he intended to replicate with that image.
The Goddess of Nightmares, another of the six Hell Gods.
Artists had drawn the likenesses of the other five.
They had painted them, sculpted them into fine statues.
No one ever dared to recreate her face. The old stories were too brutal, and they feared a portrait or a statue would conjure her vengeful spirit.
Helaina straightened her spine, regretting even letting the goddess cross her mind.
She remembered why she came in the first place.
The chapel was empty; she turned for the exit.
It’s a mistake, she repeated in her head as she bolted down the cobblestone hall. A misunderstanding.
She peered into the kitchen. There were only scullery maids clearing breakfast and cooks preparing midday meals.
She moved to the great hall, finding it how it had always been—completely unoccupied.
Not a single gathering had occurred here since the fae had visited so long ago.
After that, no courts were welcomed in Keles.
Her father met with other kings and generals in their lands.
With no one to entertain, Oren had cut half their staff, only keeping on essential persons to run the estate.
Helaina looked toward the courtyard, in the direction of the castle gate, where the carriage would wait for her tomorrow.
She couldn’t go out there again, not past the castle grounds. She was stunned she had made it back here safely after Adriel. If she took that chance a second time . . .
Helaina started toward the hall of bedchambers, a sense of foreboding nestling deep inside her.
Just as she was about to storm her mother’s chambers, she heard a muffled sob to her left. It came from Adriel’s room. She gently pushed the door, barely making a sound.
Everything was pristinely tidy. Helaina knew he had barely used this space in the time he had spiraled. The queen sat on the bed, clutching a pillow, pressing it to her chest as she silently wept.
Helaina carefully approached and kneeled before her.
“Mother?”
The queen looked up, her eyes bloodshot. “It’s like every trace of them is vanishing. I can’t hear their voices anymore. I can’t remember what they sound like. I listened to those voices since they spoke their first words . . . now I can’t hear them. What kind of mother am I?”
Helaina’s breathing slowed. Her presence could never make up for such a loss.
She would never be enough.
Still, she rested her forehead on the queen’s knees. “I’m here, Mother, you have me. We can get through this together.”
I’m here. I count for something.
Jayda finally peered down at her daughter, her face contorted with irritation. Helaina felt the heating resentment and forced her head to the side to avoid the burn.
The Ironbloods had kept her siblings’ deaths so quiet. And although some details had been hidden from the king and queen, there was one thing they all agreed on: Helaina had been the catalyst that set their deaths into motion. They said it with every awkward silence, every indignant look.
Helaina wished she could take it all back.
“Mother, I beg you.” Her mouth was so dry, she could barely produce the words.
“Please . . . Fessyk means to ship me off to—I don’t even know where.
” She knew he had mentioned it, she had just stopped listening.
Her distress had been too great. “He says my marriage has already been arranged. Tell me it’s a lie.
” Her eyes implored the queen for a spark of affirmation.
She found none, Jayda’s expression was blank and without surprise.
There was no mistake, no misunderstanding.
She knew.
Helaina tried again, hoping she had interpreted wrong. “Tell me it’s a lie . . . Say it’s a lie.”
Please.
The queen glared at her. The words that followed made Helaina’s chin quiver.
“This is how things are done. We wanted to give you time to mourn . . . but I fear mourning will never end for this family if you stay here. It’s what’s best . . . for everyone.”
Helaina let out a strangled sob, the anger burning in her veins. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why now?”
The queen offered no explanation.
“You’re sentencing me to death if you send me out there! Not just me. You’re putting others at risk! You can’t do this!” Helaina had never screamed at her mother, but this betrayal cast away any thoughts of respect.
“It is a risk to keep you!” the queen replied sharply, then turned away, dismissing Helaina altogether.
Helaina pushed off the ground and ran for the door.
Her mother didn’t chase after her.
This was madness. Helaina hurled her body down the dark stone halls and embraced the cool wall, begging the chilling stone to soothe that burning anger climbing up her throat.
She had to speak to her father. He was her last hope.
She never came close to the kind of relationship with her father that her siblings shared. They had spent far more time together out on the road, traveling to distant kingdoms. Helaina was always left here. They didn’t have much time to strengthen a father-daughter bond.
But her father loved her—surely he did.
Heart pounding out of her chest, she turned to face the king’s personal guards.
“Open the door. Now,” she commanded, more conviction in her words than there had been in months.
The guards looked bewildered at the request, but they didn’t budge. “You know we can’t, Your Highness. He sees no one.”
The king had once considered these men his friends. He had fought beside them in his youth. Now they were stationed here day and night, rotating nonstop to keep him completely isolated in grief.
“I am your princess. Open these doors or I will throw myself from the highest watchtower. I swear it on my brother’s grave.” She eyed them back and forth. “Do you want that blood on your hands?” she finished coarsely.
It was an empty threat, she would never do something so horrid. She couldn’t, but for some reason, when she spoke those words aloud, the idea of ending it sounded very freeing.
Everyone would be better off if you were gone, that ugly inner voice of hers whispered.
The guards glanced at each other, then stepped aside without further argument.
“Thank you,” she gritted out.
Helaina opened the door and found darkness. No signs of life, only an inert, stale presence. The curtains were drawn while two candles flickered on both ends of a long oak desk. The massive chair behind it was turned away from her.
“Father?”
“Leave.” His voice nearly cracked with the command. She couldn’t see him.
Even though they hadn’t shared a conversation in months, it appeared she wasn’t worthy of a face-to-face conversation.
Helaina snapped.
“At least look at me once before you send me away!”
There was no reply, not even a turn of his head.
Helaina lost every sense of herself in that silence. She wanted a reaction, acceptance or rejection, she wanted something—anything at this point.
Thoughts that crossed her mind too frequently flooded into her. You are hated. You are death and darkness. You are cursed. Your birth ruined their happiness.
She couldn’t take it.
“Look at me!”
Still nothing.
“look at me!” Her anger boomed. The curtains fluttered apart, as if shoved by phantom hands. A gust of black burst from the floor and snuffed out the candles.
She didn’t balk at her own demonstration of power, she just gripped her bracelet as tight as she could until she felt pain there.
The king rose from his chair, still facing the now-disheveled curtains.
“You won’t even face me. You couldn’t tell me yourself, could you? That you’re sending me away. You sent your brother to do it instead, you pathetic coward.”
Her father’s large body whirled around and headed straight for her. She wished immediately she could suck those words back in between her teeth. People had died for such insolence, such lack of respect.
He looked so angry, but beneath that anger she realized he had aged a decade since she’d last seen him. His bronzed skin had become sallow. His hair had become laced with more gray.
Oren bent down and single-handedly tossed the coffee table separating them to the side, sending stray dishes to shatter on the ground.
By the time he was on her, there was barely time to react. His whole body was tense, his face twisted in contempt.
She felt the swift crack of his hand connecting with her cheek. Her neck snapped to the side.
She tongued the inside of her mouth, tasting the tang of blood. Then she warily turned back to face him.
He gripped her tunic with both hands as his heavy breathing picked up. The closer he got to her, the worse he looked. From the reek of his clothes, he hadn’t bathed or changed in days.
“How dare you call me a coward! After all I’ve done for you?
After what I’ve sacrificed to keep you safe?
Whose fault was it that night, Helaina? Tell me!
” He shook her violently, trying to coax out the answer they both already knew.
“Why was this life never good enough?” His voice was hoarse yet full of malice.
She tried to keep her chin from trembling. “You hid everything from me. Instead of telling me the truth, you locked me up! What was I supposed to do?”
“Everything we did was for your own good! The fae king gave you a chance, a shield of protection, and you pissed it away! We tried, Helaina, gods damn it, we tried!” His angry eyes turned exhausted. “I’m weary of the burden you bring.”
Her heart cracked.
Not a daughter.
A burden.
“I am your blood. I didn’t choose to be born this way.” Her own nostrils flared.
He let go of her with a scowl and turned his back.
“I didn’t have a choice either, but I’m choosing now.
I can’t—I won’t protect you anymore.” His anger turned to defeat as he walked back to his chair.
“If we keep you here, we risk more incidents. It’s too much of a liability.
The farther west we can send you, the better. ”
She was sick to her stomach. “I’ll never make it there and you know it.”
Oren was silent for a beat. “We’ll send you with double the guard.”
Like that would help.
She tried to placate him by appealing to his heart—surely he still had one. “Father, that night . . . with Krysta . . .”
He whirled again to face her. “Don’t you talk about her.”
She braced herself for a second blow.
He didn’t bother to get close enough. The words he chose hurt worse than a second strike of his palm. “Don’t you say her name, ever. You put her there that night. Your mistake made Adriel—”
Her eyes stung watching the hurt wash over her father’s face as the thought of his son choked his words to silence.
That was it, then.
The family she once knew was irreparably broken.
“I can stay hidden from now on. I’ve followed all your rules since .
. . I won’t try to leave again, I promise.
” She tried to reach for him. “Just let me stay.” She couldn’t believe what she was asking.
Years ago she would have jumped to pack her bags and leave, to explore a new place.
She had craved freedom for so long. Not anymore.
“It’s too late. I was a fool to believe I could handle this on my own. I was a fool to believe I could handle you.” He ran both hands through his thick waves of hair, gripping the ends tight between his fingers. His breaths grew rapid as he scrunched his eyes shut.
“Now get out of my sight.”
She remained frozen, watching him rearrange the shuffled curtains, returning the room to its grim state. He didn’t relight the candles, he simply reclaimed his seat and began staring into nothing, the same way she’d found him.
Helaina walked out and shut the door.
She closed her eyes and pictured that black room from her dreams. That dark place full of nothing, where her insecurities and self-disgust couldn’t find her.
At that very moment, she longed to stay in that forgotten place, never to be bothered again. That dark hole of a room with no doors or windows, no way in or out, no light. Where she wouldn’t be a burden to anyone.
Maybe jumping from the watchtower wasn’t such an empty threat after all.