Page 33 of Embers of Ruin

My heart sputters and I don’t dare move my eyes from their fixed position on the floor. Onyx steps forward from the shadows, silent as death. I lift my head to look at him, noticing the rigid line of tension in his jaw. I try to catch his attention, willing him to look at me but he doesn’t. His eyes are fixed on the king.

“Show Lady Lyra to her chambers,” Thorin commands, his voice firm and resolute. I want to protest. I want to scream that I DO NOT belong to him. But what good would it do? Thorin is the king of Solaris, ruling over the entire continent—his word is absolute.

Onyx’s posture eases as he turns to me. There is something in his eyes—pity?

What was it that he said when we first met? Anything that the king wants, I want the opposite? Did he truly mean that? Maybe he will help me escape the palace. Maybe…

“You are all dismissed,” Thorin adds without looking at me. It is an order that sets everyone in motion, and Onyx doesn’t hesitate. He places himself at my side, offering an arm in the most formal way.

Mazelle intercepts, appearing out of the blue. “Lyra, if you need anything, speak with me first,” she says curtly as she stands between me and Onyx. The underlying message is clear: the king’s will is paramount. And Mazelle will ensure that it is followed to the fullest extent.

I turned to follow Onyx when the king’s voice rose, finding its way to my ears.

“You claim ignorance of what you are, Lyra.” He speaks with a bluntness that would put the dullest steel in the kingdom to shame. “But I know the truth.”

My heart leaps to my throat, words catching. I have to deny it. I have to deny the truth. I refuse to accept my fate here. I can’t. I know what he did, and I can’t stay here with him.

“I—it’s not true, Your Majesty. I’m just a lowly villager who… got lost.” The words feel hollow as they leave me. Onyx is already leading me halfway across the throne room.

“Your hair is the truth you hide. And I will find it.”

It’s too late. It’s too late, and there’s nothing I can do. I’m halfway to the door, and I have never felt so defeated in my life. The king will cage me here, and I will die here. I’ll never see Mara again … I’ll never use my magic for good to heal people who need it. No, I’ll be the king’s pet. Bile rises in my throat as tears blur my vision.

“Lovely first impression, Lyra,” Onyx says as he leads me down the corridor.

I don’t respond. I don't have anything to say—nor the energy left to verbally spar with another man.

With every step away from the throne room, my mind spins with what just happened.

“I’m going to die here aren’t I, Onyx?” I ask, looking up at him as tears slide down my cheeks.

He doesn’t answer, just squeezes my arm gently. That’s all the confirmation I need to know that I will not survive this place.

CHAPTER 10

Iwake to darkness and a sense of overwhelming gloom. I’m used to it, as Elvora hasn’t seen the sun in centuries and there isn’t much to hope back home. But my mood—and my heart—feels dark and heavy, too. For a few disoriented moments, I think it is still night. Then my memory returns slowly, sinking its claws into me one by one bringing reminders of the night before. I’m in the palace, and I am sleeping under the same roof as The Shadow King, the man who has all but claimed me as his personal possession. The thought makes my stomach churn.

I lie still beneath blankets, telling myself I will never belong to him. That’s the first ridiculous thought I have, because I know if the king wills it, there is nothing I can do to go against it. Some might say I should be grateful to be allowed such luxuries and the pleasure of being a guest in the king’s palace, but I’m not in a grateful mood. And the term guest is a guise. I was taken from my home, Onyx lied to me in order to lure me here, and now here I am, confined to a room with rules. I might just run through the window and finally break free once and for all. If I could just figure out a way to open the window … By the gods, I truly am losing my mind.

Rolling over to the side of the bed, I pull a black silk curtain aside as I step onto the cream-colored rug. It covers most of the floor, and is so soft that when I finally slip out of bed and set my bare feet on it, I make an embarrassingly pleased sound. The plush softness of it feels amazing against my toes, and no one in Elvora has furs like these. It’s magnificent. I look over to where a fire burns low in the marble hearth, though I don’t remember anyone coming in and lighting it. I wouldn’t have noticed them coming in, considering that after Onyx departed and bid me goodnight, I cried myself to sleep.

They might call me a guest—but guests are free to leave. I was taken from my home, lured here under false pretenses, and confined to a room with rules. Silk doesn't change the shape of a prison.

A tray of food sits on a round table near the door loaded with bread, sliced fruit, cheese, and a small covered bowl that smells faintly of spiced oats. There is a porcelain cup of tea, still steaming, which means someone has been inside this room recently while I slept. That realization ruins whatever appetite I might have had. I stare at the tray with suspicion. It could be poisoned. Would it be smart to eat it?

“Absolutely not,” I mutter.

I cross to the window instead, pulling one curtain aside just enough to look down at Andell. The capital stretches below in layered terraces of black stone and silver bridges. Canals twist between streets, their water dark as ink beneath floating lanterns. People move across bridges in fine coats and flowing gowns, their steps quick, purposeful, and entirely too confident for people living beneath an eternal curse.

From here, Andell looks peaceful, like a place you’d want to live in. That irritates me so much I slam the curtain shut, closing my eyes as I take several deep breaths. I have to prepare myself for the realization that many things here will anger or irritate me, and I need to learn to accept them at the very least.

Elvora has always seemed to be bracing for death, knowing that the illness sweeping throughout Solaris could possibly come through, stealthy as a thief in the night, and claim their lives. Every hollow-eyed villager, every empty field felt like proof that Solaris was slowly giving up. The curse has taken everything from Elvora, and from other cities I passed on my travels here, but Andell doesn’t look like a city that needs to surrender. It looks organized, wealthy, and protected.

That makes no sense to me.

Before my self-destructive thoughts can tear Andell down any more, a sharp knock strikes the door. I turn so quickly that I almost trip over the rug— for the second time in two days. Before I can decide whether to answer, the door opens.

Of course it does. Because why would anyone in this palace think to wait for permission? That would imply I have any.