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Opal
Linka tapped on the bathing room door. “Princess, is everything okay in there?”
I sank deeper into the cooling water and closed my eyes. No. Nothing was okay in here or anywhere. “Fine,” I said and waited for her to enter, to offer me one of her feline smiles and a cloth to dry myself with.
There was only silence, and then the sound of her gentle retreating footsteps.
I could empathize with her anger toward me, but that didn’t mean I would chase after her and try to force her into empathizing with me. I hadn’t the energy nor the space in my bruised heart to fix anything when everything felt so irreparably… shattered.
This marriage was supposed to fix things. It was supposed to help us all come together. It was supposed to save and unite us—regardless of what it might have done to my heart.
But now he was gone.
My husband. My enemy. My unforeseen tragedy.
When I finally reentered my rooms, I eyed my wardrobe, the many gowns and nightgowns. Longing to create something more versatile, comfortable, I dressed in a pair of old leggings and a berry-colored shirt. In gentle pleats, the cotton fell from my breasts to my upper thighs, its capped satin sleeves puffy but not irritating when I turned my head over my shoulder upon hearing a creak.
My mother sat on the bed, her fingers clasped in her lap and her sharp eyes staring through the window.
The same window the king had sat by while studying the gardens and lost to his own thoughts.
The words left me without warning. “Why did you even bother allowing us to marry?”
Without averting her focus, as though she wasn’t really looking at anything, she said in a quiet voice, “I did not intend for you to marry him.” I walked closer, leaning against the bookshelves. “We just couldn’t catch him unawares until then.”
“So you admit to trying,” I stated, then chewed my bottom lip when it wobbled. He never said anything. He did not warn me nor tell the truth when I’d discovered he’d been bleeding. I could add that lie to his list of atrocities, but I knew he hadn’t done so out of malice or to protect himself.
He’d lied to protect me and the love I had for my mother.
“Your desire to see him punished was stronger than our family’s fear of the stupid prophecy.” I nearly laughed at the heartbreaking absurdity of it all. “So strong that I now carry his family name instead of ours.”
She did not answer, there was no need, but she turned on the bed and patted the space beside her. “Come sit with me.” I didn’t move, and she looked up at me. “Please, we are ru
“Time?” I moved then and hurried to take a seat beside her. “What do you mean? It’s done.”
She noticed the space I’d left between us, offering a sad smile as she gathered my hand in both of hers. “You must understand, Opal. We saw an opportunity, and we took it.”
My mouth dried, giving bite to my voice. “An opportunity for what?”
“The human royals came through on their promise, though I do not know if it is to help themselves or us. They’ve curated an army.” She nodded as my eyes widened. “They are already here.”
“Here,” I repeated, but there was no attack, none that I’d heard of, save for that on the king…
My heart sank to my toes, launching me to my feet.
“They march on Vordane.” Though her words shook, her chin rose slightly. “The crimson king has been our enemy long enough that it would make me a fool to believe he’d arrive without an entourage, hidden or in plain sight.”
A fool, she’d said. Or in love, her eyes said when mine closed, my stupidity suffocating me once more.
Her voice softened. “We will gorge ourselves on lies to keep the magic that is love.”
No.
But my eyes reopened with a start. “Stars,” I choked out. “What have you done?” I raced to the window as if I could see the carnage, but there was only star-painted dark skies, quiet city streets, and the chatter of wildlife and flora upon the breeze.
But there, beneath it all, slight notes of ash could be detected.
I should’ve known. I should’ve known, yet I wouldn’t have thought she’d go this far. “You knew,” I hissed, glaring at her over my shoulder. “You knew he’d bring his legions, leaving the rest of Vordane with little protection against an attack.”
Tears glossed her eyes. “At the time, I wasn’t aware that you two had…” Again, her head shook. “I am still shocked, honestly, and I won’t say that I am happy.” Looking me in the eye, she said with too much calm, “I hate it for you, for us, for our entire family, but it ca
“Our people?” I nearly shouted. “We started this. Your father started this by killing his parents, and for what?” A crazed laugh left me. “Because they were scared of those more powerful than them.”
“Althon,” she croaked out. “Your father slayed Dade’s—he killed Vern Volkahn.” My head spun and spun as I tried to recall a time when Dade had told me so. He never had. “Vern was wild with rage,” she whispered, gaze unseeing as if she were back there amongst the start of it all. “My father.” Her lips pressed tight, then released with a wet sigh. “My father had just killed his mate, and we knew he’d never stop. He’d never rest until every last one of us paid the price for what my father stole in a fit of anger.”
My blood, my bones, chilled. “Why?”
“They were worried,” she said, though her words were weak. “They were intimidated. My father more than anyone else, but it was his ego—bruised with embarrassment from Vern and Maya’s refusal to submit to his terms—that ended Maya’s life. He was never supposed to kill either of them.” She spoke softer, lost to the past. “No one was supposed to die. He was a fool, and it cost him his life as well as that of my mother and my son.”
“Vern Volkahn killed Joon?”
“No,” my mother rasped. “Joon died from a fatal chest wound while in battle, and your grandfather while trying to protect him when he fell. I left your father’s side and dragged Joon as far away from the carnage as possible to try to save him.” She inhaled a shaken breath. “But Althon knew what must be done, that Vern had to be stopped, so he and our best soldiers cornered him so he could put the beast down. My mother,” she exhaled, “she passed from grief not two months after.”
“This is…” I shook my head. “All this heartbreak, and all because they were worried?”
“They were given information. That the king and queen’s babe, Dade Volkahn, would be the end to the—”
“To the Gracewood line,” I spoke over her, cutting her off. “Believe me, I know, but all these prophecies could mean anything.” I released a flat, humorless laugh. “Such extremes, and it came to pass anyway.”
She said nothing to that and sniffed, rising from the bed. “You love him.” Not a question.
I was tempted to refute it, to say I did not harbor any such feelings, but this pit of fear that’d yawned open inside me, that threatened to pull me under and swallow me until nothing but bleak darkness remained said otherwise.
I averted my eyes and clambered onto the window sill. “I need to go.”
“Opal,” she cried when she realized what I was about to do. “It’s probably too late.”
“We don’t know that.” I refused to believe that.
Her scream followed me as I dropped from the window into a swan. My wings flared feet from the ground, and I swooped between the trees in the gardens below, then startled.