Page 104 of Fate of the Sun King

Never underestimate the enduring fragility of a man who suffers from a lack of confidence.

He started to undermine Tyr every chance he got, trying to strip away the king’s confidence instead, telling him that all of Aphelion’s problems were a direct result of Tyr’s failings. I tried to open Tyr’s eyes to the games Atlas was playing, but Atlas has always been a master of manipulation, weaving his illusions to support his truths. Sometimes I wonder who truly held the real power.

I was with Atlas the day Tyr walked in to find the two of us, clearly stricken about something. He stared at Atlas with the most haunted look in his eyes before he paced the room, running his hands through his hair and muttering to himself.

Atlas had demanded to know what the problem was, and after a lot of coaxing, Tyr admitted the Mirror had spoken to him.

It had just revealed the Primary of Aphelion. And it wasn’t Atlas.

I’ll never forget that moment. It was as though our entire lives had just been knocked off course, our fates all careening towards disaster. Though it was just a feeling then, I had no idea just how much everything would change.

Atlas lost his shit, tearing up the study—smashing windows and objects, ripping books and pictures from the walls—until finally Tyr and I subdued him. Several of the other warders arrived to help, but only I had been privy to the truth Tyr had revealed.

After that, Atlas calmed down, though I could tell it was a thin veneer layered over the restlessness that had dogged him since the war.

Then one day, Atlas declared Tyr was being taken by the Withering. That he was too weak to see or talk to anyone, save me and the other warders.

To this day, I don’t know what Atlas did to him, but I’ve always suspected poison, drugging Tyr until he was too weak to do anything about it. I don’t know what lies he whispered in his brother’s ear, but somehow, he managed to convince him to give the order to the warders—that Atlas would be taking over and that no one was ever to speak of Tyr’s existence in the tower.

But Atlas couldn’t kill Tyr, because the magic of Aphelion would transfer to the true Primary, and he would risk losing it forever.

A body was procured for the funeral, and Atlas worked his magic to make it look so much like Tyr that it almost fooled even me. Then he sequestered his brother into this tower and cuffed him with the arcturite, where he’s been ever since.

Eventually, Tyr recovered from whatever Atlas had done to him, but his life was over.

The secret we’ve all had to keep is the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.

“How are you doing?” I say to Tyr as I sit down in the second chair that faces the window. Atlas rarely comes to see him, and the other warders aren’t comfortable with being in his presence. Not because of anything Tyr has done but because he’s a reminder of their forced betrayal. The prickly truth of what we’re all complicit in, though none of us has much choice.

In the months after Atlas locked him away, I convinced Tyr to move against his brother’s wishes only once. Tyr ordered the warders to gather Aphelion’s council inside their usual meeting chamber so we could expose Atlas’s lies. We knew they’d never believe it without the proof of seeing Tyr alive in the flesh.

But Atlas’s paranoia extended further than I imagined, and he’d already placed spies in every district head’s household. With twenty-four districts and only ten warders, word got to Atlas before we could execute all the parts of our plan.

When the council arrived, Atlas was ready to greet them. He convinced everyone he’d summoned them to discuss building a monument to each ruler in the center of their district, and thanks to his flattery and their delicate egos, no one questioned that the facts didn’t quite add up.

After they left, I’d never seen Atlas so furious. He railed at Tyr and then he turned his rage on me and my brothers. He had each of us tortured before Tyr’s eyes, saving the worst for me.

I don’t know if Atlas was jealous of the relationship between me and Tyr and resented our closeness, but whatever it was, he finally found a way to use it against both of us.

My mind has done its best to block out those days.

The pain. The blood. The burns. The screams.

The scars on my chest, back, arms, and legs will never truly let me forget.

After that, Tyr refused to move against Atlas’s wishes ever again. And so, we dance this vicious dance, twirling in circles, neither one of us knowing how to break out of its ever tightening noose.

“The palace is in shambles thanks to the future queen,” I say, and I swear I catch the slightest hint of Tyr’s smile.

I desperately want to know how this will all go down if Atlas gets his hands on Lor.

She’s a Primary, which means anyone she bonds with will receive the benefit of her magic when she ascends. After I learned of her origins, it all made much more sense. That’s what Atlas was after. He resents the fact he doesn’t have a Primary’s magic. But will it work if he uses the Mirror?

Does Lor have the Artefact of Heart? The Crown was lost as far as I’m aware, but I’m assuming Lor and Nadir haven’t been entirely truthful with me.

“She’s a right pain in my ass,” I add, and Tyr slowly turns his head, his blue eyes simmering with so many things that we haven’t said in so many years. There was a time when I thought Tyr and I—

I shake my head, refusing to torment myself with things that might have been.