A series of desperate acts obliterated life as I knew it. I was helpless to stop them. One selfish decision led to a tragic act of love, which spun into an unforgivable sin. The chain reaction was swift and explosive. In the matter of minutes, a queen was dead, another disgraced, and a broken kingdom was sloppily stitched together under one king. Prophecy foretold of a sovereign who would reunite Lucent and Stigian under one banner. A unifier of the people. A peacemaker. A beloved leader. What the kingdom of Pliris got was an unrefined ruffian wearing a gilded crown.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my finely tailored pants and stare across the sanctuary to the ostentatious statue of my mother. Beams of sunlight shine through the high arched windows, illuminating the sharp features of her slender face and half-naked body. The marble sculpture of the dead Stigian queen once depicted her as nothing short of a goddess. That was until I ordered it dismantled. Her arms have been removed, making her useless to hold the Posseda under the waterfall streaming in through the ceiling. The amplification ceremony has ended under my rule. Only those who suffer harsh withdrawals may partake in the ritual of siphoning the dormant power of Cyffreds, and only after the willing have been heavily compensated for their sacrifice. The new rule is one on the growing list of what makes me an unpopular king with many.
The end of the Stigians' most revered tradition has caused contention between me and those who lived under my mother's rule, but it's no longer the damning rift amongst my people. I am.
The day I inherited the crown was also the day the Allaji king took what is most precious to me. Zekel didn't so much as wait for my mother's dead body to turn cold before he fulfilled the treaty he forged with her. It felt as if I were suspended in time as I watched him shift into his hawk form, grip Raelle in his talons, and fly away. I let him take her and half of the Cyffreds living in Lucent. It didn't matter that they were the price to ensure peace between Pliris and Allaji. Zek is holding my soulmate, my heart, my parah captive, and I will stop at nothing to get her back, including thrusting Pliris into a bloody war.
A man checks the rope around the statue's neck while another examines the knot at its torso. The thick twine weaves through a pulley system, ready to ease the monstrous statue to the ground. The removal of my mother's likeness is another change I've made since becoming king. I couldn't stomach sitting in the throne underneath her shadow, knowing that the Khiros who served under her rule wish I died on sanctuary's steps instead of her. My gaze cuts to the two guards standing at the room's entrance. Their eyes never leave me, following my every move. They have sworn to protect me, but that doesn't mean they don't resent my decisions.
My ascension to king was nothing more than a mishap of fate. For most of my life, I believed my destiny was to serve my people as a soldier. I didn't know I was the nephew of the Lucent king or the son of the Stigian queen. No one raised me to rule a kingdom. I don't follow proper protocols or have the tact to sway the members of my court. Political games were never my strong suit. I have always thrived under the pressures of war. A sword and battle strategy are what I know best. I was not made to wear a crown, but my queen was. Raelle's weapon of choice is diplomacy. I've witnessed firsthand as she has rallied soldiers, earned the loyalty of her subjects, and eased her way into the most hardened of hearts. My own included. She is the promise of warm sunlight during my raging storm. Where I'm the swift swing of a sharp blade, she is a gentle, guiding hand. I am the king Pliris was given, and she is the queen it needs. And that is why I will not stop fighting to bring her home.
The rope whines under the weight of the marble as it leans forward. Part of me wants the damn thing to break free of the restraints and smash to the ground. I would hysterically laugh to see it in pieces, knowing it will never be resurrected again. But the other side of me hates that my mother's legacy is so terrible that I can't leave any sign of her sins. From this day forward, the only likeness of her can be found in the crypts beneath the sanctuary. Queen Esmeray LeFur will be known for the darkest part of our kingdom's history.
"Does it make you sad you had to order them to take down the statue of your mother?"
I pry my attention away from the front of the sanctuary and look down at the tiny figure beside me. Her round cherubic face, peppered with freckles, stares up at me. Ansley Mansi has the same warm brown eyes as her sister, and the same ability to wrap me around her little finger. For only living eight short years, she is very in tune to other's emotions. She seems to be drawn to those who are caught in an internal battle. Her quizzical nature and blunt insight offer a brief reprieve from my heartache—a moment to catch my breath before diving in head-first again. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that the Statera has gifted her with the power of a Cognus.
"Aren't you supposed to be in lessons right now?" I ask.
Ansley's red curls bounce when she props her small hand on her hip and challenges me with a lifted eyebrow. I can't help but to smile. She is the epitome of Raelle—quick-witted and determined almost to a fault. The girl has even taken to dressing like her oldest sister, with leather trousers, an unlaced tunic, and a small sword secured to her hip. Of all the people who bide for my attention, I enjoy my time with her the most.
"It's time for lunch and you didn't show to breakfast again. Mama always says that breakfast is necessary if you're going to have a productive day. Although, I'm not sure how productive you really have to be when these people are doing all the hard work." She sweeps her hand in front of her, ensuring I understand how useless I'm being.
If it were anyone else, I would have dismissed them without a second thought, but I can't ignore Ansley's innocent truth. I don't have to guess her intentions. She unapologetically says what she means, whether is strikes a blow to my ego or not.
She tugs on the sleeve of my leather jacket. "You didn't answer my question. Does the statue coming down make you sad?"
I shake my head and turn back to watch as my mother's nose touches the glossy black floor. "No, I'm not sad that it's coming down."
"Do you miss your mother?"
"I didn't really know her, just the queen of Stigian, and I didn't care much for her."
Ansley sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. "That's sad. All kids should have a mother they like."
She's right, but most children didn't have a mother who forces her child to kill his father. Most mothers don't traumatize their children and trade the woman they love to a tyrant. They care for those in their keep despite the crown. My mother didn't give me one solid reason to so much as respect her, let alone like her.
"I don't like your mother either," Ansley quietly says. "Raelle will be a better queen than her."
"She will be."
Ansley falls silent, watching as the men and women on the demolition crew remove the ropes from the toppled stone. She worries on her bottom lip and her eyes dart back and forth. I give her as much time as she needs to gather her thoughts. If there is one thing I've learned about the youngest Mansi child, it is that she will speak when she is ready.
"People say that Raelle isn't a queen anymore because she lost her favor with the Statera. I don't understand how the Statera can't like her anymore. Mama says she had an impossible choice to make, and she followed her heart. How can people think the Statera hates her because she saved your life? You're her parah."
My throat tightens with emotion, and I croak out, "I don't know."
"They say if she would've let your mother hurt you, the Statera would have protected her from the Allaji king. But if that were true, she would have a broken heart because you wouldn't remember her anymore." Her small shoulders lift and fall as she catches her breath. "I think she did the right thing."
"Me too."
"I heard Mama and Papa talking, and they are worried that if you rescue Raelle, Pliris will go to war with the Allaji. You will have broken the bond made in the treaty and the Statera might punish you for that. Our people could suffer if you save her, but I hate to think I will never see her again."
I remove the gold and iron crown from my head and run my fingers through my black hair. Crouching in front of Ansley, I bring us face to face. Tears pool in her eyes and she quirks her mouth to fight against her trembling chin. This little girl has brought me more clarity and truth than anyone since taking the crown. She doesn't hide her feelings or accept my bullshit. Ansley doesn't care that I am king. She only sees me as the man who loves her sister. She holds me to high expectations, and it kills me to think I could let her down.
I place my finger under her chin and tilt her head up. "I will find her. Not even the Statera will stop me from bringing her home and making her my queen. She will rule Pliris with me and keep our people safe. Do you understand me?"
She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. "Yes, I understand. You remind me of Raelle when she left to save Papa. She said she would do it and she did. I believe you will save her, too."
"I will."
Ansley throws her chubby arms around my neck and buries her face against my chest. I rest my cheek on the top of her head and take a deep breath. Lavender clings to her hair and clothes just like it does with Raelle—an effect of the calming scent their mother and sister release with their gifts. But where my parah always has an undertone of warm honey, Ansley smells like sunshine and the chocolates she sneaks from the kitchen.
"Kyron, can we spar today?" she asks, her voice muffled against my shoulder.
I laugh, and it reminds me of the most important reason I like Ansley's company. Even in my darkest moments, she can bring a smile to my face. I could have spent the entire day listening to the grievances of Khiros who want me to resume the amplification ceremonies or sat in council meetings where I was informed that Raelle and the others are a lost cause, and Ansley can coax a hysterical fit of laughter from me. She lights up a room and my initial reaction to her is to smile until my cheeks hurt. Ansley never lets me forget how much I love Raelle, and how much her sister loves me.
I pull away from the hug and study her face. "Is that really why you came to find me?"
"You're better than anyone else, and you don't let me win."
I ruffle her curly hair and stand. "That's because your opponent will not let you win. You have to work hard to be victorious."
"Papa always says that."
"Who do you think I learned it from, short stack?"
She rolls her eyes at the nickname I've chosen for her. At first, she put up a fight, insisting that one day she would be taller than me. I told her that when that day came, I'd stop calling her short stack. I have a feeling the name is here to stay.
"I'll have the house staff bring us lunch in the training room, since I know how important it is to you that I eat. Go get the sparring swords ready and I'll be down there in a minute."
She hisses an excited yes and skips out the sanctuary's side archways and into the hallway leading back to the palace.
I take in the statue lying face down on the floor and the unobstructed view of the waterfall pouring in through the ceiling. It's amazing how one alteration can change the view. Everything is brighter, clearer, and less gaudy. The holy space actually looks ethereal without my mother's likeness looming over it. Piece by piece, the demolition crew will chisel away at the last reminder of what once happened in this place. It will be a tedious task, much like the fear and self-doubt I'm slowly working to overcome. But eventually it will happen.
Pivoting on the heels of my black riding boots, I move to leave the way Ansley did, but come up short.
Leif's burly frame sprints out of the archway, waving an opened letter in his hand. His perfectly coiffed sandy blond hair barely swaying with the movement, and his hazel eyes sparkle with excitement. It's the most emotion I've seen from Raelle's best friend since the Allaji took her. Leif has spent every day studying maps of the terrain and analyzing the locations he thinks are most likely to house a king and his captive. He has dispatched several units of Pliris's newly unified army to scour the desolate land to the west. Under his directions, they have hiked deep into caves, unearthed underground burrows, and watched every animal they encounter for any sign of greater intelligence. For the last forty-seven days, my soldiers have returned with the same report every morning and night—Raelle and the others have not been located. Any reasonable leader would call off the search and redirect their focus on the matters within their control. I never consider it.
When we are face to face, I'm taken aback by Leif's dimpled smile. It has been a long minute since I've seen anything but pure determination shining in his eyes. A spark ignites inside me, jolting my heart and sending it racing. I fight to suffocate the hope, holding my breath to deprive it of life.
Leif holds out a note and with a charming arrogance that is uniquely his, says, "I've figured it out; I know where to find Raelle."