I stand in shock, my mouth agape. I had no idea things were so dire in our world. Though when I consider the state of our lands and Father’s declining crops . . . I suppose I should have put things together. Was the masked man in my home this “Shadow” she spoke of? Does my father have something to dowith this? Once again, I’m frustrated by all the questions I have no answers to.
“Thank you for sharing the information with me. You’ve opened my eyes,” I say softly.
“Not a problem. Please let me know if there is anything else I can assist you with.”
I nod, and she walks away, leaving me to my conflicting thoughts. I move toward the shelf she pointed out and pull a few of the tomes. Unfortunately, I fear I already have the answer I’m seeking, though it doesn’t fully make sense to me.
If I take all the information I’ve been given thus far, it would indicate that I’m descended from a god . . . but surely there’s no way, is there?
Finding an empty alcove, I open the first text. My finger skims through the list of gods and their gifts and where they gain their strength. I have a sneaking suspicion, but I want to make sure I cover all my bases.
When I get to the entry for the sun god, Kyros, I stop. According to the text, he was strongest under the rays of the sun, and descendants of the god noted that being in the sun sped up the healing of wounds and ailments. Immediately, I’m reminded of the afternoon outside with Kian, when my hands healed from their cracked state far more quickly than what would be considered normal. I recall the time I sprinted through the gardens, feeling completely rejuvenated by the sun’s rays.
Am I descended from Kyros? If that’s true, why did the sun burn me only an hour or so ago? Is it the tonic? Was my father knowingly poisoning me so that I wouldn’t gain strength?
I’m going to be sick. This can’t be possible. But that would explain why blood is suddenly appealing to me. Does the tonic suppress that desire as well? All this information makes me want to purge the tonic from my system as quickly as possible. Will itharm me if I just stop taking it altogether? I know he suggested I wean slowly, but perhaps I need to discuss it with the alchemist.
The savory smellsof meat and vegetables make my mouth water as Kian and I sit down for dinner in his wing. The food here in the palace is incredible.
Guilt trickles in as I pile an abundance of delicacies onto my plate, my mind going back to what the librarian said earlier.
I set down the roll I just took a giant bite out of, and after I swallow, I look across the table at Kian.
“Are there really people out there who are starving while I gorge myself on more food than I could possibly need?”
Kian tilts his head and sets down his fork. “That’s an interesting question coming from a noblewoman.”
“I’m serious, Kian. Please don’t lie to me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says before taking a large sip of wine from his goblet. “The truth is, ever since the gods disappeared, our land has been slowly dying.”
I nod for him to continue. Somehow, hearing the words from him, confirming what the librarian said, only makes it feel all the more real.
“I wish I could say people aren’t starving while we live here with excess, but that would be a lie.” He frowns. “I’ve begged Father to do something, anything, to aid our people, but he’s just too selfish and caught up in his own desires to help anyone else.”
Loathing toward the king trickles into my body, but then I stare across the table at Kian, a prince with power.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Kian asks. “Why the sudden disgust in your eyes?”
I push away from the table. “What areyoudoing to help our people, Kian? Begging your father to do something means nothing if people are still dying. And now that I have this knowledge, if I sit back and do nothing, I will be just as culpable.”
Kian looks like he’s about to explode, his fingers gripping the table tightly in front of him.
“Rae, I’m doing what I can. I can’t explain it all to you, but please trust me when I say that I haven’t given up on trying to help.”
“And yet here you sit, letting some self-appointed avenger take care of your people. At least the Shadow is doing something,” I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “I heard if it weren’t for him, people would be way worse off.” The disappointment I feel toward my husband hurts . . . or is it just guilt thatI’vebeen so naive about our world?
Kian leans forward. “Ah, so you’re a fan of the vigilante, huh?”
“I’m not sure what I think, but it sounds like he is doing some good.”
“Well, I wouldn’t risk bringing him up at court. My father isn’t too fond of him, and there’s a price on his head.”
Have I misjudged the prince? His reaction doesn’t make sense.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
