"Chin up, eyes forward. You will not submit, my queen," Micah says under his breath, leading me over the threshold of the Stigian sanctuary.
His words are just as much for himself as they are for me. Both of us are facing the people who left deep scars on our hearts. We might not know the exact extent of the other's pain—a brother hurt by his twin sister, and a woman betrayed by her parah—but we understand our grief is real.
As we walk down the aisle, I build up the courage to look at Kyron. I start with his shiny boots and move onto the snug fit of his trousers. He wears a black coat with golden baroque embroidery along the high collar and down each side of his broad chest. A lump forms in my throat as I take in his sharp jawline, full bottom lip, and the tawny skin over his high cheekbones. As Micah and I reach the bottom of the dais, I look Kyron in the eyes.
His irises are still a breathtaking ebony, with amber burning around his pupils. His stare is intense, but instead of shying away, I square my shoulders and raise my head higher. One side of his mouth quirks up and I swear a fragment of the man I once knew sparks to life.
A war rages inside of me. I want to laugh and scream, hug him and punch him, kiss him and kill him. I hate him for turning me inside out and leaving me to live a life without him. Let him take his fucking crown so I can be done with him for good.
A Devine Sibyl moves to the center of the dais, their hair covered by a veil which matches the light blue of their robe. They turn to Esmeray and say, "Bring forth your chosen heir and let them receive the anointment of the Statera."
The Stigian queen rises from her throne, her tall, slender body unfurling with the grace of a feline. The skirt of her gold gown, etched with the silhouette of wildflowers, splits up the side, flowing behind her to reveal her tan, shapely legs. A large stone gleams with hues of orange and red hangs from a chain around her neck—the Posseda. The second of the Sacred Gifts of the Statera, and the one which allows the Khiros of Stigian to siphon the dormant gifts of the Cyffreds. Esmeray takes several steps forward. She is stunning and cruel at the same time. Her golden crown with spikes like sunrays balanced upon her head of silky black hair gleams with the light. Long lashes frame her hooded eyes, and a sly grin pulls at her red lips as she holds her arm out. Kyron moves in next to her, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. Her gaze meets mine, taunting me. She has at her side the person I wanted by mine, and the bitch relishes in my agony.
But Kyron made his choice, and I've made mine. I will not fall victim to my heart or the bond which tethers me to him. Even if it is my daily struggle forever, I will learn to live without him.
Mother and son reach the end of the dais, and Micah and I move forward.
My hands shake at the euphoric sizzle buzzing through me. Soft tendrils like dark clouds lure me closer and I can sense the anticipation in the air. The Eporri has always let me feel the gifts of others, but with Kyron, the draw is unlike anything else. I crave his Ignita fire, Noctist shadows, and his Cognus power to feel emotions. I want to lose myself in his gifts, let them consume me until I am one with them.
"Place your hand on my son's head, little princess," Esmeray says, her voice a rich, smoky purr.
Micah rests his palm on my shoulder, and I concentrate on the strength in his touch. My fingers tremble as I move them toward the soft strands on the top of Kyron's head, and my eyes flutter shut. His skin heats mine, and I can't stop pulling at his gifts.
As the sibyl recites the incantation which binds Kyron as the next king of Stigian, I recite the words with them. Borin made me memorize the ancient blessing as a child, and the familiarity of it calms me until Kyron's power stirs under my touch. I can't stop from calling it forward. His shadows flow from his fingertips, infused with the heat of his flames. I smile, basking in the gift he once so freely let me reign over. It's as I remember; under my control, the gray clouds take on an iridescence, blending with everything around us, cloaking us from the sight of those present.
This power was meant to be with me. He was meant to be with me.
"Raelle," Kyron gasps, his fingers encircle my free hand and squeeze.
"I missed this," I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth on a sigh.
The gaping hole in my soul steadily fills, and euphoria replaces the relentless ache in my chest. I pull harder and the heat of his flames lick at my skin until it sinks inside. It's mine—the shadows and fire. It is at home in my body, nestling in all the cracks inflicted upon my heart.
"Raelle," Kyron groans, and fear chases away my bliss.
A horrific image plays in my head. The night we fought the Stigian at Lake Holly. My anger, my power-lust, and Kyron begging me to stop. I'd almost killed him the first time I used his gift. My gaze darts to his to find dread and... surrender.
I yank my hand from his and release his power. It brushes past me as if wishing me farewell and vanishes within him.
A bulky warrior with mahogany skin and high cheekbones rushes to Kyron's side. His long blue-black ponytail whips around his face and wisps of hair cling to his full upper lip as he places a steady hand at Kyron's back. His dark-brown eyes burn with mistrust and speak to his willingness to strike if I advance on his prince.
The sanctuary has fallen silent, watching the two future rulers of feuding kingdoms. The Stigian people appear stunned by what they witnessed. A Cyffred has controlled the gift of a Khiros, and not just any Khiros but an elemental who wields three powers.
I gasp for air, my eyes wide as I stare at Kyron. His face has drained of color and his head lulls to the side. His eyelids are heavy, giving me only a quick glimpse of how his pupils have overtaken the gold in his irises.
"It is all right," Micah whispers and gently pulls me back from the dais.
I shake within his arms, unable to look away from Kyron.
"I'm fine, just dizzy, Lance," the prince says, stumbling back a couple of steps and holding his palm out to ward off his guard.
Esmeray looks me up and down and cocks a sculpted eyebrow. "I've never seen anyone wield the Eporri like that, not even our mighty grandfather. It's a shame you choose to stay with Micah when you could rule as queen for a greater kingdom." She tilts her head toward Kyron. "Not to mention you would be with your parah. It must be agonizing to be apart from him."
Anger replaces my concern, and I force a smile. "I haven't given your son much thought, but I'll confess that I missed having control of his power. Besides, I've made a promise to wed, and I intend to keep it." I glare at Kyron. "I don't betray those who place their faith in me."
The queen clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Just know as long as my son wants you, my offer stands."
"Thanks, but I'll pass," I say, looping my arm through Micah's. "I'm ready to return home, Your Majesty."
"I wish you well, sister." Micah nods at Kyron. "I hope one day you will serve your kingdom better than your mother has."
The color has returned to Kyron's face, and he stands tall. His jaw flexes, and he replies, "I assure you her influence will guide my every decision for Stigian."
"That is a shame to hear," Micah mutters and leads me down the aisle.
The Devine Sibyl's voice echoes from behind us. "I present unto you, the future sovereign of Stigian. May he rule with a pure heart, a just hand, a wise mind, and be the embodiment of the Statera's immaculate balance."
The Stigian people respond in unison, "Blessed be Kyron, the prince of Stigian."
I don't need to turn back to know the sibyl places a crown upon Kyron's head, solidifying him as my rival and making our chances of ever reconciling non-existent.
My father and Zek, who have waited at the back of the sanctuary, fall in line, flanking Micah and me. The moment we make it out the door and descend the front steps, the weight of what happened inside bears down on me. My knees buckle, and I grip the side of the carriage as I dry heave.
"I'm so proud of you, Raelle," my father says, rubbing his hand along my spine. "I know that wasn't easy."
Tears I didn't even think I had left for Kyron raise to the surface and run down my cheeks. It was all too much, seeing him, feeling his power, touching his skin. I turn around and bury my face against my father's chest. "I knew it would hurt, Papa, but not this bad."
My father comforts me with gentle words as I sob, and then his hand stops moving on my back and he falls silent. I lift my head and follow his gaze over my shoulder. My heart stops and my breath hitches.
Kyron stands behind me with his hands shoved in his pockets and his new ostentatious crown resting across his brow. "Can I talk with you for a moment?" he asks.
"I don't think that is a good idea," Micah says with a clipped tone.
Kyron ignores his uncle and remains focused on me. "Please, Raelle."
I look at my father for guidance. He once stood firm in his faith for Kyron, believing there was a greater unseen purpose in his choice. But time has diminished his trust and even he questions if Kyron's betrayal was for nothing more than a crown.
"It is up to you. We are in no hurry if this is what you want," he says, brushing his knuckle over my wet cheek.
Micah scoffs, overridden by a father doing what he knows is best for his child.
I turn to Kyron and cling to the queen Borin molded me to be. "You and I had our final words. We said them that night in the catacombs; you don't regret your decision, and I can't forgive you for it. Nothing has changed."
"Sounds like that sums it up."
Kyron shoots a glare at Zek, and the prince's massive guard steps forward. Zek leans against the back corner of the carriage, crosses his arms and cocks a brow, goading the prince on. Kyron's lip curls in a snarl and he shakes his head before turning back to me. He wraps his fingers around my arm and guides me away from the watchful eyes of my entourage. "Can I have a few minutes alone with you?"
I pull from his hold, saying, "I don't—"
A blast of scorching heat blazes past me, and I'm thrown to the ground with a heavy body on top of me. I gasp for breath and smoke infused air fills my lungs, sending me into a coughing fit. My ears ring, muffling barked orders, and horrific scene plays out in my mind. The ear-splitting boom, the flash of heat, and Kyron flying through the air.
I shove the body shielding mine to the side and scramble to my knees.
"Raelle, are you hurt?" my father asks, trying to gather me back against him.
"No, Papa." I franticly push him away, looking past the chaos surrounding me.
Lucent guards and Stigian warriors stumble into formation around us. They trip over chunks of cobblestone and marble, with protruding bones and blood-soaked faces. Through the dust lingering in the air, the men and woman who watch over their kingdom's sovereign work to make sense of the madness.
A golden glint catches my eye and I rush forward on my hands and knees. I yank and toss metal and burned wood out of my way, digging through the rubble.
"Kyron!" I scream, pulling what was once a door to a Stigian carriage away from his chest. The blast dislodged his crown from his head and a trail of crimson streams from his brow. His skin is ashen, and on his shoulder, blood bubbles up around a spike of wood. I move to shake him awake, but another explosion rains down more debris.
My body moves of its own accord, flinging over the lifeless Stigian prince.