Helaina could sense Krysta’s thoughts. Her desire not to answer was palpable. She fidgeted, her hands pretending to massage out a crease on her gown.
Her sister sat beside her and grasped both hands, cradling them in her lap.
“We have one of the largest armies, and we have the fae to call upon if we are ever in danger. Our people are stronger than anything in the eastlands.” She squeezed her sister’s dainty hands. “We are safe,” she emphasized confidently.
Helaina’s breath finally left her body as she closed her eyes and savored the words. She sat on her bed and reached to her nightstand. She picked up one of her most treasured books, one of myths and legends, then began searching.
“These ones are definitely real, though, right?” She held her favorite page up to her sister, displaying a portrait of a horse as black as night with a mane to match. The Alogo Mortis. The paper was worn but the eyes were depicted to glow like fireflies. A pair of wings made of midnight feathers stretched atop its back. Most would be fearful if they encountered such a beast, but not Helaina. She wanted to see one more than anything.
Krysta sat down next to her, taking in Helaina’s awestruck expression. The begging and wanting for something bigger than her, bigger than this castle.
“Oh, Laina, those are very real. Adonna herself rode them into battle.”
“But that was so long ago, do you think they still exist?” Helaina asked.
“They absolutely still roam this world. Many still speak of their beauty and bravery.”
“Do you think one day we might see one? Here in Keles?” Those hopeful moonlit eyes beamed back at Krysta.
Krysta smirked, she loved this about her sister. Everything was so new and wonderful because of Helaina’s view of the world. “I think one day you will ride one.” She pulled Helaina in for an embrace.
Krysta’s smirk vanished when she felt something familiar perched upon her sister’s neck.
“Laina... is that my pearl necklace?” Her words turned from comforting to pure aggravation.
Helaina fiddled with a pearl between her thumb and forefinger. “Maybe.” She barked out a laugh as Krysta launched a giant feather pillow toward her face.
CHAPTERNINE
Theodon Wrenn crouched down, attempting to stay hidden within the dense brush. He and his lieutenants had been stalking the caravan full of Kelesian soldiers since it had left Oakmire. That path of pure, raw magic had traversed through the wind, leading him straight to that castle. Just as it was leading him at this very moment.
Did the mortals even comprehend the cargo they carried? This power was a hidden treasure. Now that he had found it, he would make sure no one else would wield it.
When he had seen what had been causing these patternless casts of dark magic, his surprise was immeasurable. It was a girl. Not just any girl—but a Kelesian royal, a family who had descended from Ures. He knew of Prince Adriel, of course. He knew there had been one princess, a handful of years younger than the future heir, who had died years ago. He had never heard of King Oren having a third child.
Theo was barely disguised by the thick shrubbery. His massive frame peeked out the edges as he watched below. He paid no mind to his lack of camouflage. Mortals weren’t the most observant things. He adjusted his thin leather cuirass as he repositioned himself again. The soldiers had come to a halt, allowing him a perfect view of the scampering crowd.
He had felt death in the castle. He had sensed sorrow there.
He knew her prophecy well, what her intended use was predicted to be. She was meant to destroy.
Part of him had wanted to barge in and grab her the moment they arrived in Keles. But he was no fool, he wasn’t taking his comrades anywhere near her until he got a better sense of what she could do first. So night and day, he had patrolled the grounds of that castle. Someone had put a barrier there, a shield, much like the one marking his own lands.
He watched, and waited.
Nothing happened. There was no trill of power, no thrums of darkness. He had begun to question if his own powers were failing, if his intuition had been mistaken.
Theodon depended on his own magic to guide him toward mortals that could be most useful to him. He was responsible for finding them all. Every single mortal turned soldier was his choice, his decision. It was one of his many gifts, the ability to feel a descendant’s true potential. God-given magic was what made his army so strong. It’s what made the Divine Allura the only militia capable of standing against the monsters constantly threatening to break through their wall.
But when he sensed her, the wrenching in his chest was unrelenting. Like an insatiable thirst yanking him toward an oasis. From the moment he found her, the thoughts wouldn’t stop.
What Theo saw and what he felt were such devastating contradictions. Hefelta strong invisible tug toward her that was different from any of his previous recruits. But she was about as dangerous as a common pigeon from the looks of her. She was nothing more than a privileged princess, and far too scrawny for his ranks.
Then, as divine fate would have it, the mortals made the decision to move her. When they readied her for travel with a brigade of soldiers at her back, Theo expected it was because she was dangerous. Why else would they need the shield? The protection?
Yet she barely left her carriage, never interacted with anyone in her camp. She was a hermit. No wonder no one had heard of her.
Helaina Ironblood.
