Chapter 22
The marble chair looks exactly like the painting depicted.
A timeless, arching chair that looks like it was constructed from the very marble the Great Hall was built with.
It sits in a cluttered room of mismatched furniture in a dusty room of the castle.
A single circular window allows for a shaft of light into the room, sparkling dust motes float whimsically in the air.
I stroke my palm along the carved armrest and close my eyes. This was my mother’s ruling seat. An embodiment of her power over this realm. Emotions well up inside my chest and I can’t tell if the sadness outweighs the pride I feel.
I let the feelings battle.
A war between the anguish I feel of never seeing her here and the pride in the legacy in which she left me.
Pride wins.
My eyes snap open and I get to work feeling the surface of the chair for invisible hinges. A callous on my palm snags on a seam and I grimace as the skin tears, but I found it. Relief has my head dropping.
Ripping the heavy marble seat open, I curse.
I hate them.
I hate them for what they did to this realm, to my parents, to my friends.
A wave of unease washes over me, prickling the hair at my nape. Lachlan rips a blanket off the chair to our left and wraps it around his hand so he can hoist the crystal cube out of its hiding place.
“It’s heavy,” he grunts.
His arms flex and he moves with excruciatingly slow movements, handling the cube with the utmost care. I follow behind him as he sets it down gently on a low-lying table by the fireplace. Walking around it, I study the complexity of its facets.
“It’s much smaller than the others have been,” I murmur, continuing to walk around the table studying every angle.
“Aye, why do ye think that is?”
I shrug, tapping my foot impatiently on the floor. “Perhaps it was their first one, and they were curious if it would be successful?”
I squat down closer to the box and Agatha gasps.
“Do ye think that’s wise?”
Lachlan crosses his arms over his chest to keep from agreeing.
“I’ve handled these without gloves and much closer,” I answer. “I need to find the plug.”
When I find nothing on the top, I move onto the sides before flicking my eyes up to Lachlan. A small smirk appears on my face.
He sighs before stepping closer. “Of course, it’s on the bottom.” He hefts it right side up and I begin my tracing again. My breath hitches when I find the cork.
Thumbing my dagger out of the sheath, I pry open the stopper, setting it down on the table before reaching for my bag of raven stone dust.
“Here goes the final one…” I whisper to no one in particular as I pour the sparkling black dust into the crystal.
The last speck of dust unleashes a burst of magic from the room. The force of it whips my hair free out of my face, pushing the others back a step. It topples the furniture and extinguishes the fire in the fireplace, leaving the smell of smoke lingering in the air.
Time freezes for a heartbeat, and silence engulfs the room.
“Is that it?” Mina asks, looking around.
I stand, turning towards her, heaving a deep sigh. “That’s it.”
“What do we do with this now?” Agatha asks, eyeing the monstrosity still on the table.
“We’ll take it back to the capital and put it in the cell where we found Luna,” I order. Lachlan nods, stepping closer to the table again.
Black wisps of smoke swirl in front of the door.
Lachlan takes a protective step towards me, lifting his arm up. Agatha and Mina stare open-mouthed.
A figure appears in the swirling mass…
Luna.
She pops into existence, her face twisted in disgust and then relief once she becomes corporeal again.
“You need to come with me.” Her voice is rough, and her silver eyes glisten. “Right now.”
I look towards Lachlan, who’s already staring at me. Go. He nods at me, his tattoos unfurl into raven black wings.
“I’ll be right behind ye.” His words give me a small piece of comfort as anxiety wraps around me.
I step towards Luna. And more gently than I thought her capable of, she envelops me in her arms.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
The world is ripped from me. Colors stretch and splice. A wave of dizziness hits me, my stomach sinks, and my head jolts to the side.
It lasts a heartbeat.
Then I’m standing in the middle of my throne room.
My body is thrown to the side before I can steady my feet, and I gasp, struggling to breathe normally. Luna still holds me tightly in her arms. She eases away, unblocking my line of sight to Torin.
Torin holding Gran.
Tears fall in a stream down his weathered and weary face. His usual flat cap tilted up at an unusual angle. His hands are underneath her legs and around her back, cradling her to him.
She doesn’t move, there’s no movement of her chest at all.
I take one small step toward them before I sprint. Running like my life depends on it across the marble floor.
“Gran!” I scream.
Torin sinks to his knees, clutching her body to his chest.
Tears pour down my cheeks before I even reach them.
He lifts his head to the sky, a silent plea coming from his lips and his tears roll sideways down his cheeks. His flat cap slips off his head and clatters to the floor.
“She’s still hanging on.” His voice cracks. “But barely.”
I skid to a stop, falling to my knees before them. Pain rocks through my bones, but I ignore it.
“How?” I choke out the words.
Torin shakes his head. “It’s almost time. She had me take her to the cairn early this morning. Then she fell asleep, and has nae woken up.” He swallows and his throat bobs.
I reach out with timid slowness to touch her hand. There is still warmth there, still life clinging to her.
“The magic awoken, and it brought us home,” he whispers.
I squeeze my eyes shut, praying to Odin that the magic here is strong enough now to heal her.
“Please, please,” I whisper the plea to any gods that could be listening.
Torin shifts forward towards me. I pray for the faintest sign of life, a flicker of a pulse or a gasp of breath. Anything at all to confirm my prayers are answered, and that she’s healing.
There’s magic here.
Bring her back.
A slight flicker of blood pulses through her veins.
She’s not gone.
“Give her to me.”
Torin eases Gran out of his arms and into mine. Her frail body is empty. A shell of the woman she once was. The queen that once ruled here.
“I’m so sorry,” Torin mutters to me, while stroking Gran’s arm.
My chest aches as if someone has pulled my heart out roughly through my ribs. I stutter out a breath, trying to pull myself together.
A burning constricts my throat, but I breathe through the pain. “Luna, get a healer and send her to my room.”
Luna vanishes in a puff of black smoke and I pray to the gods she makes it back to me in time.
A flash of light has me looking at the two guards standing sentry at the rune.
Tension radiates down my spine and I stride towards my room.
Her body is so small, so light. It’s not even an effort to carry her.
“Just hold on,” I whisper under my breath. “Hold on.”
The walk to my room takes ages, the hallway stretches out before me, and seconds drag on as if time has slowed.
Torin holds the door open as I step through and walk to the bed.
With the curtains drawn, the afternoon light can’t fully penetrate the space.
So the room is dim. Flames flicker in the sconces as I pass.
I set her down gently on the bed, tucking the stray pieces of her coronet braid back in.
“Gran,” I murmur, hoping she can hear me. “It’s me. You’re home.”
I hold my breath, listening for any sign that she heard me. I cast my eyes to the door, desperately hoping to see Luna or a healer.
“Lena,” Gran breathes.
My head whips back to her. Tears prick my eyes and blur my vision.
“Gran!”
With an excruciating slowness, she opens her eyes. The slate blue has turned a pale gray. She’s fading away. She reaches out to me, cupping my cheek. My tears run down her fingers, but she doesn’t wipe them away.
“It’s almost my time.”
I shake my head. “No. Please don’t go. I need you.”
The smallest of smiles curls her lips as she closes her eyes again.
“Gran, please. Please don’t go. I need help.”
Her eyes crack open again. The gray bordering on white now.
“You don’t need my help, dearie. You already know what to do.” She breathes in and the air in her chest rattles. “Believe in yourself, for you were meant for this life—to be here. You are the true queen.”
She exhales, and her eyes fall closed. Her hand slips from my cheek, falling to the side of the bed.
A sob cracks my heart in two.
My head falls to the bed and I scream, letting the despair take me.
A small hand shakes my shoulder and Luna pulls me from the bed.
“Let the healers try.”
A gray-haired woman with steely eyes walks forward, putting her hand against Gran’s neck. She looks at Luna and shakes her head. “We’re too late.”
Luna’s head drops between her shoulders. Her grip on me slips as I fling myself back to the side of the bed.
“No! There’s magic here. Bring her back. I fixed it! There’s magic here.”
No one moves, no one says anything as I cling to Gran and sob.
I don’t know how long I kneel beside the bed, holding her hand.
Long enough that my tears finally dry up.
Long enough that the sun sinks behind the drawn curtains, and more sconces flare to life around my room.
Torin hasn’t moved from his vigil by the door. His arms are crossed tight against his chest as if the action can hold him together.
My breathing slows, and my mind and body are numb when firm hands grab under my arms and pull me from the floor.
Cedar and rain.
“Shhhh,” he murmurs, holding me firmly to his chest. “I’m here. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
It’s all my fault. If I had fixed the magic sooner, maybe it would have been strong enough to bring her back. I should have worked faster, harder. I should have been better and this wouldn’t have happened.
Lachlan rubs a hand down my back while the other holds me to him.
“I was too late,” I cry. “It’s all my fault,”
Someone clears their throat and I feel Lachlan lean away from me to look at whoever it was.
“Aye.” His voice rumbles through my ear that I have pressed against his chest.
A small hand squeezes my arm. Luna.
I turn my head to the other side to meet her gaze.
“You did not do this.”
Her eyes shine, the tears she’s holding back threatening to spill over. Her nose wrinkles as she fights through it. “You did not do this.”
She gives me a stiff nod before whirling on a heel and taking up position next to other people who have gathered by the door.
Evander, Tane, Mathilda, and Torin.
All standing side by side.
Tears sparkle in the candlelight as they trail down Mathilda’s cheeks. She leans for comfort or support, into Tane’s side. His face is shadowed by the furrowing of his large brow.
No one makes a move to leave. They’re here with me. I’m not alone.
The grief wells up and overtakes me, dragging me into the depths of its despair.
I’ve been here before. I know what this is like. I was alone then, wallowing in the grief my parents left behind and Gran’s subsequent diagnosis. But I’m not alone this time.
Breathing through the pain, I embrace it.
Footsteps echo down the hall, someone running, and quickly.
“Lena!” Mina screams.
Her boots skid to a stop on the marble floor as she catapults through the door. As her eyes lock onto Gran’s still body before meeting my own, she forces a swallow. “I’m so sorry. But you need to come with me. Now. Something is happening with the rune.”