Chapter 68
Kaed
He stands unshaken through endless peril,
the thicket, turns and twists,
Aiden hasn’t contributed a thing for the past two days.
He simply yawns when we ask his thoughts and goes back to reading, wine glass replaced by a full bottle now, lifting it absently between pages.
So far, all we’ve managed to piece together is that the basin must be restored before the ritual can work and the only ones who might know how, are Joash, Aeron and the Mer.
One dead, one trying to kill us and one stationed to keep us trapped here.
Whilst also trying to kill us. This is unhelpful, to say the least. Tonight, we are long past exhaustion, all slumped around the main table.
Aiden is dozing, sprawled out like a centrepiece, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth while Eira watches him with quiet heartbreak.
“Oh my fucking hell,” Ashley mumbles into a weathered piece of parchment, a broken purple wax seal on the back.
Her hair is a mess, clothes mismatched and she lost her shoes days ago.
But still, beauty pours from her. From her heart.
This is my favourite version of her thus far.
The rising Queen. Choice maker. Leader. The one thing I am certain of in my life.
“Listen to this. To my beloved Azezos, I miss you, blah blah.” She skims to the bottom of the page.
“I can’t shake what you said about our beautiful Dracure.
I know offence overtakes you, and you are correct, my love, of course, they should submit to you and your brothers now your parents are gone, but you cannot destroy them.
If you saw them fuse to the Black Flame and the Collision of the Four,” her green eyes glance up at me, “then they are needed for our freedom. I do not wish to anger you, I know we will not see it in our lifetime, but should that mean we should take it from our future children, or grandchildren?”
Her eyes are wide. “We need the Dracure for the ritual.”
Something twists uneasily in my mind. The Creed.
And when they were bonded and fused, we were released.
Ashley and I were always part of it. The bond.
We know that much. But fused… My thoughts snag on the word.
I have heard it before. Not in The Creed.
In the library that day with Aiden. My mind drifts back to the books from Vale’s quarters scattered across the table between us, pages filled with frantic annotations and underlined passages.
One word had been gouged so deeply into the parchment it nearly tore through the page.
Fused. I remember skimming Vale’s note beside it, then dismissing it in favour of freeing Nyk.
Something about the word only ever being used to describe the bond King Feye and Aislinn shared with the pair of Dracure.
My pulse stutters. Ashley. Me. The Dracure.
“She’s right,” I say quietly. Thinking of the royal crest a little differently now.
The black iron gates surrounding the palace. The crown the King wears.
“But they were destroyed. The brothers hunted them down and killed them.” Eira slouches in her chair and runs a hand down her face.
“But what if they weren’t?” As much as tiredness weighs on Ashley’s shoulders, she looks more alert than ever. Her green eyes blaze with something familiar. Hope. She wears it well.
“I think at least one person would have seen colossal pitch-black beasts somewhere in this land,” Cook says, scratching his head.
She starts pacing, “I know, I just, I think they’re alive. Everything has gone the way it’s supposed to, so far. I think fate or destiny, The Creed, whatever you want to call it, has orchestrated all of this. So why bring us to this point only for us to miss a key ingredient?”
A Pyreling bursts into flame above the table.
My heart leaps and I nearly knock over a stack of scrolls.
The warm strip of parchment drops into my hand.
Ashen Reach’s bright orange seal burned into the edge.
I read it once. Then again. My vision blurs and my heart folds in on itself.
“The King has publicly named Nykholas head of the rebels,” I say hoarsely.
“Says he was jealous of my position. That he tried to poison Ashley, kidnap her because of some misguided religious psychosis. He wanted Aiden dead so he could have Eira.” My hands shake as I finish. “They’ve set an execution date.”
“We have to go back,” Ashley says, exposing the graceful line of her neck as she gathers her curls into a bun and fixes her eyes on me. “We’ve got to break Nyk out. Find the Dracure. Find a way to talk to the Mer Army and fix the basin.”
From the centre of the table, Aiden groans softly and rolls onto his side.
“I’m never going back,” he mutters sleepily, eyes still closed.
His empty wine bottle rolls across the table and hits the floor with a clink.
“Besides,” he adds in the middle of a yawn, “then what? A whole year until equinox. Do we hide? He will turn Sheyole against us. Lock down the basin. Locked so tight won’t even get close.
Then—” He lifts one lazy hand toward the ceiling, and makes a whooshing sound, thick streams of flame spiral upward, licking against the stone. “He’ll kill us all.”