Chapter 15
MATTHIAS
Freedom from Vyrus’s shackles lay in gaining the allegiance of his Gods.
Evella swore she’d protect the fledglings’ hearts.
She collected them, one by one, to hang from her tree.
Their powers seeped into her gilded veins, her protection into theirs.
When she was certain of their alliance, she set her sights back on Eusis.
— REDACTED VERSE FROM THE CHRONICLES OF EVELLA
The bower remains eerily silent. My breath mists before me as a frigid fog curls around the wilting blooms. The silence swamps me.
I stamp my feet on the frost-strewn lawn, and the crunching echoes.
Taunts me. My chest tightens further as I search for her.
Search for my Sorrow. It’s been nights since I last saw her here, when I’d tried to warn her I was coming, to not trust a word from my broken lips.
Fear coats me, slicing my flesh as I cast my glance around once more.
Why isn’t she here? I’d welcomed the lull of sleep each night, knowing a fragment of our souls collided within the bower.
But since I’d tried to warn her about my journey, she’d not returned.
It was what I wanted. Surely? So why did my chest shatter as though my heart was nothing more than glass?
My eyes close as frustration wells within, spreading, surging.
Glancing down, I gasp. Blood, thick and inky seeps from my broken palms. Swallowing the pain, I stare around at the devastation.
The bower, so beautiful, so fragile, so completely perfect, is no more.
This corner of the world that was ours has been spoiled and as I turn over my trembling hands, torn to shreds by thorns, I know only one person is to blame.
I am.
I am the fallen king who has desecrated, destroyed and forever tainted a place of pure beauty. This is why my Sorrow won’t come. This is why I’ve lost her.
I scream into the icy void. Each jagged barb of my pain spilling from me until my burning lungs empty. Heaving, I turn, swallowing the agony as I stand alone once more. I fill my lungs, ready to scream…
‘So dramatic, Elmswood.’ I spin, relief flooding me as Sorrow stands against the archway, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold, a rare smile on her lips. I close my eyes, ready to fly into her arms. Cover her with kisses. Not stop until—
The scent of sizzling bacon awakened me.
I dragged my hand down my numb face, shivering in the fragile dawn.
The fractured images from my dreams faded all too quickly.
I grabbed my head as though I could force them to remain.
The images of Sorrow, so stark, so visceral, already lost. A shaky exhale spilled from my frozen lips.
As much as it pained me, my dreams may be the only safe way I’d ever see her again.
Sitting up, I glanced over to the fire. Mother added sausages to a huge pan.
As though she sensed me, she raised her head, squinting through the steaming haze, her face lighting up as she saw me.
Instinctively, I returned her smile before remembering how she’d rescued me, the company she now kept.
Dropping my smile and turning away, my stomach gave a traitorous rumble.
The scents drifting across the camp proved I still needed food, so I forced the grin back.
Running my fingers through the tangles of my hair, I approached the fire, where my mother – of all people – fed the camp.
Raine strode up, grabbing a plate from her and laughing as she slapped their arm away.
A part of my chest constricted as they placed a hand on the crook of her elbow, a strange warmth to their eyes.
How could she be so easy around them? Father was little more than a spectre after The Alliance had condemned him.
Had she truly found forgiveness within her heart for the person who’d robbed her of her husband?
Her children? Something about the familiarity of their touch had me reaching for a sword no longer slung over my hip.
Mother’s head flicked in my direction. Raine noticed me.
A grimace sliced across their face before they turned and walked away.
I ignored the rebels, stepping over the log.
‘Morning,’ Mother said, offering her cheek. I kissed it, more out of habit and an empty stomach than any fondness for her at this moment. ‘The next plate is yours. Why don’t you sit down?’
She angled her pointed chin towards where the felled logs circled the roaring flames.
The same logs where the rebels sat either pretending I didn’t exist or glaring at me with pure venom.
My stomach sank at the sight of them. If anyone saw me with these rebels, this damn Insurgence, The Alliance would strip me of my crown in a heartbeat.
After the last great war, when the battle-weary leaders came together to create The Alliance in an effort to bring peace to Eusis, a number of nobles from across Shutera grew increasingly frustrated as the new laws and regulations were laid out.
They’d fought alongside men and women who had nothing but pitchforks from their farms and valour in their hearts. They’d broken bread with those they’d once seen as lesser… common. Drank with them, played cards, bled and died alongside them. And what did they gain through their brutal sacrifice?
Nothing.
A small group of dukes, lords and knights argued that if we wished to create a new Eusis, all those who’d bled for us should reap the rewards in our supposedly fairer world.
But the regents refused to relent. The common folk had their freedom.
The protection of their lords as they tilled the land. What more could they want?
The few nobles who retained their scrap of decency grew angry as their voices were drowned out.
There was more than enough Vyrium to share out, but the regents feared losing out on their riches, of the possibility those they’d viewed beneath them gained the tools, power and skill to overthrow them.
So, their grip on the Vyrium tightened. The nobles’ anger spilled over.
After the first skirmish in The Alliance, they were thrown out. Banished.
With targets on their backs, they went to the only place they could: underground.
They created a secret base, The Void, where they still hide to this day.
Running against The Alliance, they do all they can to bring Vyrium into the hands of those who need it.
As their methods grew increasingly violent, the concerned monarchs and their courts put tempting prices on their heads.
When King Raul Elmswood stood before The Alliance and spoke aloud the beliefs he’d hidden in his too noble heart, The Alliance acted quickly to prevent him from convincing others.
The Midnight Insurgence had the opportunity to speak, to defend my father and say he’d had no dealings with them.
But they remained silent. A silence that spoke louder than any incriminating statement.
The resulting verdict crushed my father.
It crushed me.
Anger and resentment were all that burned in my bitter heart whenever I thought of them.
The weight of Father’s punishment crippled me.
I’d vowed to never, ever open up any communication with them.
Raine had reached out shortly after my coronation, and I’d tossed the unread missive into the flames.
I’d hold my throne. I’d make Father proud.
And here we were. The usurped King of Asmar, his dowager queen, breaking their fast with the very same rebels.
I grimaced, chewing the bacon and staring resolutely at the flames, when the sudden crashing of swords had me spinning around.
My hand threw out, ready to protect Mother, when I peered into a gathered crowd.
They surrounded a pair of rebels training with swords.
Raine stood by, their arms crossed as they nodded at the pair who parried in an, unfortunately, rather impressive set of attacks.
I turned back, my cheeks burning. Mother, my mother, sat in black leggings, eating her homemade breakfast from her lap.
‘So,’ she sniffed. ‘Sorrow…’
In all honesty, it wasn’t merely the lack of time that stopped me from penning Mother a letter about my marriage.
The few times she’d been permitted to visit me at Bronzehold, the constant look of horror etched onto her face whenever she and Sorrow shared the same space told me what she’d thought of her.
She’d adored the ever-charming Enfys, who’d smiled in her pretty dresses, sat with her sewing and played the lute.
Mother insisted Mercy’s youngest daughter was a far more suitable friend for the future king than the girl with dirt on her cheeks, who didn’t wait before she was spoken to.
The one who preferred to stab people with her sewing needles.
Since I’d turned twenty, Mother presented me with a stream of suitresses. There was never any question of going through with my duty and choosing one. Not when I knew Sorrow’s heart still beat under the same sky. When I turned down Enfys, Mother immediately got on a boat and headed South.
I placed a huge grin on my face and met her fierce gaze. Gods save me from when those two were in the same room. ‘I was wondering when you were going to congratulate us.’
Her nose wrinkled as I said us.
‘You’ve always been reckless, Matthias,’ she said, ‘But to marry that—’
‘I’ll stop you there,’ I said, rubbing the muscle twitching under my stubble and quietly delighting in how her eyes widened. ‘Do I really need to remind you, Sorrow is now your queen.’