Page 6 of She Who Holds My Wrath

I narrow my eyes. “What’s in it for you? You don’t do anything without cost. I know that much.”

I grimace at the memory of laying in that deep tub, his magic pulling at my darkest memories of my mother dying. Of my father shutting down. He pushes himself up from the bed and walks towards me with all the lazy confidence of a predator, placing a cool hand against my cheek. His eyes—black, ringed in bright violet—search mine with a seriousness that doesn’t grace him often.

“I simply want to watch the Divine Six burn, hellflower. And you. You are the key to their ruin.”

A shiver works its way down my spine at his touch. Not one of fear, but of recognition. He’s right, his magic does call to mine. Dark, and terrible, and thrilling. I feel his shadows reaching toward my flame, temping it out, calling for it to destroy. I may not want a part in this, but I don’t have a choice. And if I’m going to burn down the gods, I’ll need all the power I can get.

“Deal,” I say, lifting my chin.

“Daisy, are you sure about this?” Sariya asks with a weariness to her tone.

“Yes. I need every edge I can get. You and Elyistria have your people to protect. Maelkar’s an asshole, but he’s right.”

I hear Maelkar scoff, but I keep my focus on Sariya, making sure I let her see the certainty in my gaze. She looks over me with assessing eyes, a crease forming between her brows. Her golden eyes flash with worry, but I hold my chin up, my mind set.

She lets out a soft sigh and nods reluctantly. “Very well.”

“Perfect.” Maelkar claps his hands once, grinning. “We start tomorrow. You’ll need your rest, little fiery devil. Ciao for now.”

He struts out like he owns the palace, blowing a kiss to the guards that instantly stiffen in his presence. I watch him go, shaking my head with a smirk.

“He’s a scary, scary man,” I murmur.

“And he knows it,” Aran says with a huff.

The door clicks shut behind Aran, Elyistria and Sariya, and since waking up, I’m finally alone.

It’s quiet now. No rulers, healers, help or guards. No plans, and no expectations pressing down on my shoulders like the world’s heaviest weights. Just the stillness of this absurdly lavish room, and the low, exhausted beat of my own heart. I noticed pretty quickly, after waking up, that they had brought me to an entirely new room, one that me and Korithax hadn’t yet shared together. I can’t tell if I’m grateful or hurt they didn’t put me in a place I once shared with my husband. On one hand, I’m thankful I don’t have to look at all the places we spent together. The bed we shared, the closets that will still have his clothes and boots, the bathroom we would shower in together. In here, it’s fresh. It’s not tainted with painful, yet wonderful memories of the man I love.

I collapse back onto the bed with my arms flung wide, releasing an exasperated sigh. My body feels like it doesn’t belong to me, and my life sure as hell doesn’t. I stare up at the carved ceiling, letting the silence stretch. But the silence I once used to enjoy, is no longer comforting. It’s too sharp, full of ghosts I’m desperate to get back. Korithax. Talia. Just thinking of their names makes my chest ache like a wound that won’t close. I see them every time I blink. The blood, the smoke, my fire tearing through the throne room. Talia, her body broken and lifeless before it was taken away by their cruel fucking hands. Korithax, telling me to not let this be the end of me, just before his beautiful, broken soul departed, and his body was torn away from me by The Divine Six. I felt the bond between us tug so painfully, it set my entire body alight. Yet I swear, I never felt it disappear. Even now, I feel it, gently humming beneath my ribs like a continuous painful reminder of what once was. It feels like my grief is tethering me to his soul somewhere far away from here, but close enough that even our soul-bond can’t entirely vanish. Maybe he’s with my mom, watching down on me as I try to navigate this new life that’s been thrust upon me. I just hope I can make them proud, even though I couldn’t do anything for either of them, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t save them.

My throat tightens as I try to swallow the lump forming. I press the heel of my palms into my eyes, desperate to push the tears back. But no matter how hard I try, they come anyway. Hot, bitter streaks flow down my temples, and into my knotted hair. I feel hollowed out. Like I’ve been scooped raw from the inside, and nothing remains but deep-rooted pain. Yet everyone still expects me to rule. To stand tall and be a queen. It’s what they keep calling me—Queen Daisy, Your Majesty, Your Highness.

I guess the little time I had for grieving is officially over. Because just like Aran said, war waits for nobody—not even a grieving widow. But I don’t know how to be a queen. I don’t even know how to keep on living without Korithax and Talia in my life. How am I supposed to lead a realm I barely understand, and fight in a war I never signed up for? They’re all looking to me like I’m some ancient weapon, forged by fate, filled with purpose. But I’m not. I’m just… me. Daisy fucking Sandoval. Ex-cheerleader. The girl with the sunshine aura, a glittery-gel pen obsession, and a smart mouth. Only… I’m not her anymore, am I?

I’ve felt it since I woke up. Something inside of me is different. And it’s not just grief, or rage. It’s something else entirely. It’s raw, unadulterated power. I can feel it, pulsing beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. It’s so unfamiliar and untamed. It feels almost like it’s hungry, ravenous, even. And I don’t have a clue on what to do with it, or how to control it. I just know when I’m angry, it reacts. Just like it did in the throne room, and just like it did with the guards and servants in my chambers. But tomorrow, I start training it. With Maelkar, the freaking Shadowtongue. The cursed one. The one event the Six didn’t want to try and fuck with. Gods help me.

I don’t trust him, not fully. He’s all shadows and smirks, with a dangerously silky voice that makes my spine tingle for all the wrong reasons.

But despite how little I have faith in him, he’s right. I need all the help I can get, and I know he’s the man for the job. Elyistria and Sariya have their own people to protect, and Aran means well, but he’s holding something back. I can see it in his eyes. Maybe he’s struggling with his own grief of losing Korithax, and he’s just doing his best to hold it together for the sake of Zeriavoss. For the sake of me. So, if Maelkar can teach me to use whatever the hell it is that’s writhing beneath my skin, then I’ll take it. Even if it kills me. Because the horrible, bitter truth of it all, is that I don’t have the luxury of breaking anymore. Despite me waking from a coma only hours ago, I do not have the luxury of sitting around and wallowing. I do not get to be human and break.

But how am I supposed to rise from this bed and prepare for war? Face my people? Fight battles when I barely have the strength to breathe? I don’t know.

I used to devour stories about ordinary girls dragged into extraordinary worlds they didn’t belong to. Girls who survived the war, got the man, and stepped into their happily ever after. I thought that would be me, once. But stories lie. War does not crown you in gold. It strips you bare and dares you to keep breathing. There is no fairy tale waiting at the end of this. No gentle future stitched together from hope. War took almost everything from me… and what it didn’t take, it broke. I am not a princess standing safely behind the castle walls. I am a queen with a fractured soul, an empty heart, and a war I cannot afford to lose.

So let those divine bastards come. They will tremble when they finally face the monster they have created. I have not endured all I have to fall at their feet now.

No.

I will rise. And I will teach the gods what it means to burn.

Chapter 3

ARAN

The war table is still a mess, littered with maps, sealed letters addressed to the king that he never got to read, and now, the grimoire.

I can feel it vibrating with restrained magic, like a caged beast waiting to snap its jaws. Sariya and Elyistria stand on opposite sides of the table, both unreadable. But I know they’re past the point of patience. They dragged me straight back here after we checked on Daisy, not risking any chance of me fleeing without giving them the information they’re desperately seeking.