CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Xenelpha.
—From Lyvia’s list.
“Can anyone hear me?” Carina asked.
My heart continued a thunderous beat as my breathing stopped, and I waited. Waited, and scarcely dared to hope that Bayne’s face might appear in the orb, unsure of how I’d feel if it did. A servant’s head bobbed into view. Her eyes were wide for a moment before she ran from the room.
“Wait!” Carina called.
The face of the queen materialized. My powers surged at the sight of her, a raging chorus echoing with their demand for release. Dark bags sat beneath her exquisite blue eyes.
“Carina?” Queen Antares questioned, her blonde brows pinched. “You’re…in Mount Telum? What’s happened?”
Carina opened her mouth to explain.
The queen cut her off. “It doesn’t matter. Our forces sail to Kayj. The plague that’s spread…the death, the decay. It’s notwhat we thought. I must go. The king has already left. Don’t use this again. We can’t trust it.”
My stomach pitched as Queen Antares’s face disappeared, and the orb turned opaque again. The glowing, shimmering light returned. Silence cleaved the room as the queen’s words echoed through my mind.
“We must sail to Kayj,” I declared to no one in particular. “It’s time.”
“I can’t send the Rising forces at a moment's notice,” Ronan countered. “We’re scattered. We’ve got a southern host to deal with, and I’ve no word back from those marching back from Stynguard. If I send the Rising forces, we’re left with less than half to protect the city.”
“Then just a few of us will go,” I said, eyeing the others in the room. “The Lotrennians and any willing mages. Whoever wants to stay and guard the city can do so.”
Ronan opened his mouth to respond, but Astraeus’s voice cut through the room.
“The Marisarma fleet will sail with you, Lyvia,” the pirate lord declared from the corner of the dark room.
My brows pinched up as I eyed Astraeus, a tentative piece of my heart softening despite the ringing doubt in my mind. I wasn’t convinced he offered out of the goodness of his heart. He’d said as much himself. There wasn’t an ounce of goodness in the man. He was bound to me in an alliance, bound to protect the innocent, yet something in those words beneath the dungeons…I’m with you. You are not alone...
“And I’ll fly with you,” Olienna said, a note of pride riding her tone. “We need to prepare to leave. Bellators,” she said, turning to me and Nerissa. “A word in private.”
The rest of the group shuffled from the room.
Once the echo of the door shutting died off, she said, “We share a bond as Bellators, a certain connection that allows us tofeel one another’s emotions. Based on what I’ve gathered since my freedom, the two of you know this but have figured out how to block it from each other.”
I side-eyed Nerissa, knowing fully well she was as aware of this as I was. “This bond had nothing to do with your parents being soulbound, Nerissa. Soulbinding does not connect your emotions. That power, that connection, was passed down from Kyson.”
I knew by now my emotional connection to Bayne hadn’t been our soulbinding thread. It had been our bond as Bellators.
“Open yourselves up to each other, to me as well. The only way we can defeat the Embodied is by working together, and this innate, shared connection has allowed us to communicate in ways that changed the fate of the War of Ruin. We leave at first light tomorrow.” Olienna’s expression turned serious as she left the room.
“I don’t like her,” Nerissa said after a moment.
“You don’t like anyone,” I countered, glancing at her. The tips of her lips twitched.
“I like my brother on occasion. I tolerate Vulcan and Isla. Sometimes, I like you.”
My lips kicked up in response until my thoughts drifted back to Bayne. “I suppose we should check in with Aquila and Ti. And then with theHigh Stewardbefore we leave.”
Nerissa rolled her eyes but nodded.
Despite donning Sultiran black,I recognized the pair of Rising soldiers standing outside the late Queen Galena’s quarters. They nodded as I approached and slid open the double doors to the large living chamber.
Evening winter sun, tinged with pink and lavender, shone through the arched windows that lined the curved edge of the room and painted the marble floors like a watercolor canvas. A large bed sat in the middle, draped with used, soft pink linens and gray furs. Ronan hadn’t allowed the maids to touch the room once the Death Scholars had removed his sister’s body to ready it for burial.
