Page 149 of Fate of the Sun King

My jaw clenches tightly as we wind our way to the Eighth District. When I catch sight of the house where Lor and the others are staying, I come to a halt. The other warders stop next to me, casting uneasy glances my way.

With my lies exposed, pain has released from my body, and I am once again free. Sort of.

“Let’s go,” I say. There’s no point in lingering here any longer. It’s time to do this.

“There,” I say, pointing in the distance. “She’s in there.”

They nod, and we approach, surrounding the house. I’m not sure if the ten of us can fight off Nadir, Amya, and Mael together, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that.

When did I get so fucking optimistic?

I stand at the front door and take a deep breath before I kick it down. We file into the house, and I enter the living room, then grind to a halt.

It’s empty.

Not because there’s no one here, but because literally everything is gone. The furniture, the rugs, the art on the walls. The only things left are the curtains hanging on the windows.

The rest of the warders file in, casting dubious looks my way, and I’m not sure what they’re thinking. Am I still lying? Do they care?

“This was where I found her,” I say, feeling the need to explain something.

“It looks like they left,” Jareth says.

“Spread out and search the whole house,” another warder says, and they all stir into action.

I’m… relieved. I can breathe again, but where did she go? Is she still in Aphelion? Did they do what they needed to do? How will Atlas react when I return and tell him she’s gone? He won’t stop. His actions today told me that even if this is a setback, he will never stop. He’s waited almost a hundred years, and he wants to be a king, free and clear of the shadow close to consuming us all.

I listen to the thump of footsteps over my head as the others search through every room, and then I know what I must do. It’s what I should have done years ago, but some hopeful part of me always thought maybe there would be another way.

But Atlas showed me there isn’t. Atlas has only ever had one goal, and now he’s closer to achieving it than ever. Even if he doesn’t have Lor now, he’s going to see this plan through one way or another.

I let out a sharp huff and then spin on my heel, storming out of the house and making my way through the streets with only one destination in mind.

This ends now. I’m done with his lies.

Finally. It’s time for a fucking reckoning.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

LOR

After my birthday celebration, Nadir surprises everyone by telling us we won’t be returning to Nerissa’s in the Eighth. Instead, he’s arranged lodging closer to the palace in the Twenty-Third District. Not only will it be more convenient, but he’s worried about Gabriel knowing our location. It isn’t that Nadir doesn’t trust Gabriel to keep his word, but we all understand he might not have a choice, and we’ve pushed almost to the limit of his timeline.

Aphelion has become a seething mass of people arriving from other parts of Ouranos, drawn to the city for the festivities. Throughout the twenty-four districts, there is entertainment and merriment. Acrobats performing in the streets, and musicians stringing notes around every corner. Food stalls and wine stands pop up everywhere, sustenance flowing as fireworks fill the night sky, and people dance until the sun comes up.

If we weren’t about to embark on what is sure to be an increasingly dangerous task, I might find joy in this.

Of course, very few understand this is all a ruse. Under the smokescreen of celebration is the salient fact that Atlas has no interest in bonding to Apricia.

Gabriel’s warnings still ring in my head. He’s supposed to be looking for me, and he’s running out of time. I don’t blame him for choosing himself over me either. I understand what it’s like to be trapped between difficult choices, and we all do what we must to survive.

Nerissa sits in the middle of a spread of books all over the living room floor of our new flat. She’s been reading nonstop, trying to learn more about the arks.

“Whatever Cloris told you seems partly true,” Nerissa says. Her long brown hair is tied up in a messy bun with a pencil stuck in it. Tristan sits next to her with his legs crossed, also flipping through pages.

I don’t miss the way she keeps laying a hand on my brother’s arm to ask him to pass her a book, and I certainly don’t miss the look in his eyes every time he steals a glance her way. I think he’s trying to be subtle, but he’s failing miserably.

Nadir catches my eye, and we share a knowing smile at Tristan’s expense.