Page 129 of Fate of the Sun King

She presses her lips together and doesn’t voice her other thought. The low fae are definitely not invited.

“They’re already setting up a huge tent outside the gates,” Willow says. “That’s where it will happen.”

“So the throne room will be empty?” I ask.

Nadir nods as he rubs his chin. “It’ll be a partial distraction. It might be what we need.”

“How do we get in without being seen, though?” I ask.

“There’s a side entrance,” Willow says, pointing to her sketch. “This is where the deliveries are coming in. What if you entered there?”

“It’s an idea,” Nadir says as Mael proceeds to grill Willow on who guards the entrance, what kinds of questions they ask, and how closely they scrutinize the carts and vendors coming in and out. Willow answers as best she can, but we’re still working with a lot of holes and guesses.

As we talk, I grow more and more nervous. Can I do this? Can we possibly get in and out of there undetected?

“Lor, I think you need to practice your magic some more,” Nadir says to me. “You’re getting better with it, but I would rest easier if you had a bit more control.”

I nod. “Sure. Me too.”

“Perfect. We’ll go back to the clearing tomorrow. Nerissa, if you could see what you can find as soon as possible, so we know what we’re dealing with? I’m not entirely happy with the plan yet, but we’re getting closer.”

We all murmur our assent.

Zerra help us all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CLORIS PAYNE

APHELION: A FEW MONTHS AGO

Cloris waited in Atlas’s study, once again a casualty of his inconsiderate timekeeping. She’d been summoned here in the middle of the night and dragged out with barely a chance to change out of her nightclothes. Three of those winged abominations—the king’s warders—had stormed into the Priestess of Payne, barged into her private chambers, and demanded she come with them.

She didn’t bother protesting. Resisting would be futile, and nothing would stop them from fulfilling the king’s wish.

Now she paced the length of his study, peering out the window and marching back to the middle of the room until she repeated the circuit. How long would he make her wait this time? Her glance skidded over the bookshelves to her left, when she came to a jarring stop.

Hidden in the shadows was a small glass case where an object sat nestled into a stand, propping it upright. She listened for the sounds of anyone approaching before she tiptoed towards the shelf, worried the slightest noise would cause it to dissolve into a puff of smoke.

Her fingers reached for the case, finding it locked. It couldn’t be what she thought. With another check at the door, she used a small flare of magic to get a better look.

The ball of light in her hand illuminated the figure of the woman carved into an almost rectangular-shaped object, the top part wider to accommodate her shoulders before tapering to her feet.

Her goddess.

Made of dark material infused with silver sparkles, it shimmered softly in the glare of Cloris’s light. Cradled in Zerra’s hand was a mirror—a direct copy of the Artefact sitting in the Sun Palace throne room.

Cloris blinked, unable to believe her eyes.

This was Aphelion’s ark. What was it doing here after all this time?

Many years ago, Zerra had sent Cloris and two of her sisters, Rosa and Adrienne, in search of the three remaining arks. Zerra held the rest in her possession but hadn’t been able to secure them all.

Rosa had been assigned to Alluvion. Adrienne to Aphelion. And Cloris was to find the ark of Heart. Adrienne had died a few years back—she didn’t understand why Zerra hadn’t saved her too—and she hadn’t heard from Rosa in years. But as far as Cloris knew, neither had ever succeeded. A fact that was confirmed as she looked upon Aphelion’s ark now.

Cloris didn’t understand what the goddess wanted with the arks, but it had never been her place to ask too many questions.

She’d set out on her quest, coming up against dead ends over and over. That was until she’d gotten wind of an heirloom named the Ark of the Coeur residing in the queen’s collection—the name slipped from the lips of a drunk noble during a soiree where she’d posed as a courtesan.