CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Verena
THE DUSKY PINK OF DAWN BLED ACROSS THE SKY, soft as a dream.
Cobblestones, scorched and cracked, stretched ahead as the town stirred awake. Children collected onto the streets, most rushing toward the academy. Too young for labor. Too soft for soldiers.
Just old enough to sit in tidy rows and be taught how to hate.
Before Queen Leora fell, the academy had offered more than just the reminder of who wronged us. We learned about trade and truth. Of distant kingdoms and shared struggle.
Of a world that once moved as one.
After her death, the lessons soured. Now the children were taught blame.
That Selvarra had crumbled by betrayal. That Luamis alone had tried to save it.
The lie was everywhere, threaded into rhyme, etched onto scrolls, pressed into memory. But history is rarely written in the full language of truth, only in the words of who deemed themselves powerful enough to change them.
My neck ached, the fingers I dug into it doing nothing to dull the pain. Another nightmare had seized my dreams last night. Again, I woke in sweat and skin, alone with nothing but the pulse of a curse.
I understood what was happening, what it meant. I just hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly.
A pebble skipped across the stone road as I kicked it again. And again. Anything to keep from staring too long at what the dragon had left behind.
Cottages had collapsed into rubble. Shops reduced to ash, long since carried off on the wind. The one ruin I did not mourn was the statue. King Obrann’s likeness once towered above the fountain at the village center, now shattered.
Callum might have told Ronan to keep the king alive, but that hadn’t stopped him from showing his hand.
Voices rose from the temple steps as I neared where a huddled cluster kept their whispers pressed close. Some were cloaked in long red robes, matching veils drawn over hair and throat. Others looked more like me, steel-toed boots, heavy furs pulled tight against the bite of wind.
I nudged the pebble closer, discreetly. Not to interrupt, but to listen.
“…last night, in the Firen Forest,” one murmured, a worshiper.
Another gasped, quickly stifling it.
The Firen Forest was even more avoided than the Roux. Too near the Ryuu border. Too easy for creatures to slip between the cracks of realms and go unseen.
I had only ever strayed near its vastness a handful of times. None of them pleasant.
“How many?” a disciple asked.
“Two, as of now,” an older man answered, voice grating thin. “A mother and child. Both mortals. The girl, ten, maybe twelve.” A pause. A shaky inhale. “Her body was mutilated. Black liquid covering what hadn’t already begun to rot.”
The three bowed their heads, palms lifting, reaching for Gods who hadn’t answered in years.
A younger man broke in, words pitched with panic. “We know who it was, why aren’t we alerting the king? He’ll hunt them down, put an end to these killings.”
These were the first bodies found in years. Or at least the first to make it beyond rumor. So why was his voice so certain, so desperate? Why was every tongue already shaping the word—
Viper.
“Calm yourself.” The elder leaned closer, eyes scanning the square for stray ears.
“We don’t know that it was the cursed one.
The king’s been informed and proper steps are being taken.
There will be a funeral once the dead are named.
” His hand closed around the man’s clenched fist. “Trust in him. He will lead us through this.”
The younger nodded, chastened. Convinced.
Oh, fates spare me.
The only place Obrann will lead us is into another war. This time, one that might burn across every realm.
The bell tolled above.
Once. Twice. Three times. Signaling prayer would begin.
The crowd shifted as one, rushing toward the cathedral doors, where robed acolytes stood waiting, arms wide, ushering them inside.
More folks had begun returning to the Gods these days, desperate for protection. First from the dragon that razed half the village. Now from the bodies unearthed in the forest.
I believed in the Gods, not like mortals did, with chants and temples, but with the thrumming that lived in my bones. And yet this place…it felt futile. Like it been polished and staged.
A shove of bodies jostled me, dragging me back into the press. By the time I broke free, the crowd had vanished into the temple’s gaping doors. All of them gone. Or so I thought.
“No prayer for you today?” Reve asked as he approached. There was an uncomfortable chill beneath his usual warmth.
I pulled my cloak tighter around my throat. “No.”
He stepped in front of me, blocking the sun with his too-tall frame and practiced smile. “It can be intimidating, I know, but it’s meant to be joyous. Come, join us, Verena.” He extended a hand. Fingers stretched, waiting to lead me toward his false prayer.
Not a chance in hel.
I eased back a step. “No, thanks.”
One hand dropped, the other shoving strands of hair behind his ears. He studied me, my folded arms, guarded stance, and dipped his chin. “Next time, then.”
Sure. If next time meant never.
I offered a closed-lipped smile and turned on my heel. I wasn’t sure why I had lingered at all. Curiosity, maybe. A tiny, traitorous part of me wanting to know if the Gods were listening after all.
“Oh, wait,” Reve’s voice followed, stripped of its cheer and more unsettling now. “You haven’t seen my mother and sister, have you? I was meant to meet them here this morning and I thought I saw you speaking with them earlier by the steps.”
A knot cinched in my chest, panic snapping every breath short. I turned back slowly. His face showed no accusation, only worry, pure and genuine.
“No.” I gave a small shrug, throwing a hand toward the entrance like it meant nothing. “But I’m sure they’re inside waiting for you.”
The words scraped out casual. Like I hadn’t noticed the silence. Like I hadn’t seen the edge of the forest this morning where the bodies lie.
What had been done to them was from something far more vicious than I’d ever allow myself to become.
Reve hesitated, his expression tensing. “Yeah…”
I held his stare and waited, long enough so he wouldn’t dream to question me further.
He sucked in a breath, waving me off with a half smile, and hurried into the temple, the doors slamming shut behind him.
And I ran, like my life depended on it. Because I feared it did.
The palace corridors stood empty, drenched only in sunlight, and I pressed my cheek to the cold marble, letting the tension soak through the Solar Hall doors. Raised voices always carried easily. Though today, the hush of Obrann’s usual grit was unsettling.
Pushing from the wall, I paced the hall instead, counting the flickers of each sconce outside the sealed doors. Four. Five. Six. Wondering if it was Elva stirring the glow.
I folded my arms, turning to the portraits lining the hall where one caught me more than the others, its pastel hues stretching wide across the canvas.
Luamis in its full bloom—sky awash in rose and gold, towers gleaming in the distance.
At the cliff’s edge, a man stood tall, his dark hair sleek in the painted dusk, the angle of his ears cutting the horizon. His eyes were cast down toward the throne below. And there, where gilded metal forged into splendor, was a queen draped in golden light.
Queen Leora.
Elva was perched in her lap, barely more than an infant. It wasn’t just art, but a memory, caught in color, frozen in paint.
“I don’t give a bloody damn!” Obrann’s growl ripped through the thick walls. “Do you hear me?”
I stepped back at once, spine snapping straight into the immovable wall of a guard.
“You get those soldiers to that border before the flowers bloom, or come spring, your heads will be sprouting beside the damned daisies!”
The Solar doors burst open, the portraits shuddering in their frames as Obrann charged through. His puppet, Ira, slinked after him, bow bent beneath invisible strings.
Ira’s dark eyes caught mine as he passed, though Obrann didn’t spare me a glance.
Good. Because I couldn’t stop my hand from twitching toward the dagger at my hip. Where there was a king, there was a prince. And where there was a prince, there would be revenge.
There was movement beneath my skin, hissing down my spine like teeth scraping bone. I pressed my palm hard to my temple, choking back the venomous urge.
One by one the rest of the council spilled out. Tsking. Tutting. Cowards cloaked in pomp.
I waited, counting their footsteps until they all quieted. Only then did I slip, headfirst, peering into the room. “Elva?”
She stood with her back to me, framed in the high window’s light. Sunbeams poured down in a thousand radiant spears, every one of them bent toward her. I stepped forward—
—and slammed into a wall of force. My chest seized as arms locked me in place. On instinct, my hand flew to my dagger.
“Whoa, easy.” Fritz let go, hands rising in surrender. Anger and defeat were strewn across his face like twin scars as his stare swept the corridor, locking on me.
Not a good meeting, then.
“I thought you weren’t here today and that’s why I was summoned to escort her?”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The king asked me to sit in on this one.”
My eyes flicked to Elva, then back to him. “What for?”
He cleared his throat, fingers brushing over the line of buttons on his uniform. “If you’re so fond of watching doors, we could make escorting her permanent.”
“You mean it?” I widened my eyes with enthusiasm. “It would be my dream come true, standing guard while the king shreds every hope and dream from my friend’s hands!” I pressed my palms together like I was praying for it.
“Hush your voice,” he murmured. “Even the portraits can listen these days, Ms. Vale.” The way he hit the V made me bristle. “Ms. Vale.” He tilted his head. “Never understood why you changed the H in Hale to a V.”