He burned his arm. It still pains him from time to time.
With the attack and the coronation, his search for the Prophet had slowed. They had found no leads in the palace. Samson had burned, the servants so far were clean, but Majnu had not found the time to test Yassen, not with the chaos of the attack and the ball.
Leo hesitated. If Elena found out he wished to test Yassen, she might take offense. Their truce, already so delicate, would shatter. She would abhor him, cast him out, and he could not bear her hate. Not anymore.
But the Prophet was still out there. He was watching, waiting, and if it was Yassen, what better opportunity to kill the Ravani family than at the seat of the Phoenix’s power?
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, but when she turned away, he nodded at Majnu. His Spear nodded back.
When he finally climbed the steps, Samson greeted Elena again, kissing her cheek.
“Your Highness, Your Majesty.”
Leo pressed his hand on Samson’s head, blessing him. The young man looked like a king from every angle, with his broad shoulders and kohl-lined eyes. The Ravani would fawn over him.
“Come,” Leo said, and he took Elena’s hand.
He glanced back and saw Majnu block Yassen’s path and whisper something in his ear. Yassen faltered. The Spear gripped his arm and led him away.
Samson followed his gaze. “Where are they taking him?” he whispered to Leo.
Leo said nothing as they crossed the landing to the gate, where Saayna stood waiting. She pressed her palms together, bowing deeply.
Leo and Elena returned the gesture. The high priestess held out a fistful of lotus petals, and Leo took them.
“So we the blessed few,” she intoned.
“So we the blessed few,” Leo and Elena returned together.
They followed the high priestess into the temple, the stone floor growing warmer underneath their feet. Though they walked together, Leo noted Elena was a step ahead. She was eager; never mind her pace, he could see it in her eyes. She saw her kingdom glimmering before her, and Leo recognized her hunger. After all, he had felt the same on his coronation day.
The familiar wall of heat hit Leo as he entered the Seat—but it also felt different this time. There was a new urgency to the blaze. It pushed against the walls, chasing shadows, and Leo was surprised to feel a bead of sweat roll down his forehead.
He glanced worriedly at Elena, and she must have recognized his look, for she paused, taking his hand.
“It’s all right, Father,” she said. She held up her other hand, curled her fingers inward. In the pit, a flame rose in calling, curling with her. “See. I can still control it.”
For a rash moment, Leo wanted to lead her away. Never mind the people, the customs, the coronation, he wanted her to be safe. To be as far away from this cursed fire as possible. But Elena smiled on him, and he saw her hope, her excitement, and he could not find it in himself to deny her.
“Just remember your promise,” he said, and she nodded.
The remaining seven priests rose from their seats around the pit.
“Come, blood of Alabore,” they sang. “Come and seek blessings from the source of all life, the fire of the one true ruler. Come and share Her benediction with our people.”
The priests came forward and, one by one, deposited the lotus petals in their hands. “So we the blessed few.”
“So we the blessed few,” Leo whispered.
It would be the last time he uttered these words as king.
As the guards took position along the walls, Leo could not help but feel a pang of regret. He had aged so quickly, and Elena had grown so fast. He glanced at his daughter, with her head held high and an intense look in her eyes. She was the spitting image of him, yet Leo was dismayed by it. He had hoped, in some way, for things to change. Perhaps he could have bequeathed her a better kingdom, one that was more forgiving and pliant. Perhaps he could have tried harder to rid their home of its dissenters. Perhaps he could have been kinder.
Leo closed his eyes and let the heat wash over him. He hoped it would cleanse him of his sins, but he knew that was wishful thinking. Leo opened his eyes and cast a shower of petals into the pit. He watched them curl and burn. The Eternal Fire hissed, and tendrils of flames touched his wrist. He stepped back as the priests began to chant, a low, hypnotic drone that reminded him of a rumbling desert wind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Majnu take up position by the eastern wall. Leo turned to him, and Majnu shook his head. On the other side of the room, Yassen Knight stood, clutching his right arm, a bruise darkening his lower lip.
Relief flooded him, followed by anxiety.
I will find him.Leo looked up at the golden Phoenix.Wherever Your Prophet is, I will find him.
