FOR HER, HE WILL SET EVERY KINGDOM ON FIRE.
Kyron LeFur never wanted to be king. He may have united a torn people and ended a bloody war, but none of that matters without his queen. She sacrificed her crown for him, and now he will stop at nothing t...
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My fingernails dig into the ship's wood railing as I bend over the side and empty the contents of my stomach. I spent the first day of our voyage in my quarters, trying to avoid the inevitable by sleeping. My efforts served me well until tonight when the winds picked up and waves grew. I shuffled my way to the deck. Thankfully, most aboard the ship aren't awake to witness my moment of disgrace.
I heave until my ribs hurt and there is nothing left in my stomach. With a groan, I stand upright and drag the sleeve of my tunic over my mouth. My sweat-soaked hair whips around my face as I look up at the clusters of bright galaxies. "Is this your way of punishing me for cursing you every day for your asinine laws? Can you blame me? Can you fucking blame me?" I scream into the ether.
"Do you really expect the Statera to answer?"
I spin around to find a young woman standing behind me. Her tunic and breeches are filthy, covered in a red sauce. Garlic and lemon permeate from her as she steps beside me and rests her elbows on the railing. She clasps her brown fingers together, looking out at the sea with wide eyes surrounded by long lashes. None of it bothers her—the wet air, the swaying motion, the uncertainty if we are headed in the right direction. I'd sever a finger for an ounce of her composure right now, but I settle for conversation to take my mind off what lies ahead.
"I don't expect much from the Statera anymore, so I definitely don't expect it to answer," I say.
She casts me a glance from the corner of her eye, and her full lips pull into a smile. "Good, because you are more likely to get an answer from the spirits on this ship."
A humorless chuckle escapes me and carries away on the wind. "I'm sure that those before me have nothing to say. If my grandfather had his way, he wouldn't have let both my mother and uncle live to separate his kingdom. I've done away with traditions and divided my people. I've turned the kingdom as they knew it upside down, and they are all rolling in their graves."
She falls silent and wraps her hand around her thick black braid, twirling the loose ends around her fingers. Her eyes lock onto something that's not there, and she cocks her head as if she is listening to someone talk. She sets me on edge, and I back away from the railing, ready to sprint back to my quarters.
"Micah isn't disappointed in you," she says without feeling. Her voice is monotone and sets my nerves on edge.
"Pardon me?"
She looks up at me, and her pretty face changes. The soft curve of her chin is still present, but her jaw appears more defined and her eyes hooded. Features that are not her own fade in and out like a ghostly mask. I blink several times, but the image doesn't go away. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I'm looking at—
"I am proud of you, nephew," she says, her tone deeper and the precise way she accentuates each syllable, different from the way she spoke a minute ago.
I jump back and hold my hands in front of me to keep a distance between us.
"Micah?" I whisper, like I might scare him away, and he nods. "Impossible."
