Page 32 of Fate of the Sun King

I groan and grab my glass, tipping it towards her. “Then I’m going to need another drink for this conversation.”

CHAPTER TEN

GABRIEL

THE SUN PALACE

I stare down at Tyr, who lies in his bed, blinking at nothing, his gaze as distant as the stars. The arcturite cuffs around his wrists and neck pulse with an eerie blue glow that haunts me every time I close my eyes.

“I’ve been doing some reading,” I say, looking up at Atlas, where he stands leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and one leg over the other. “They say prolonged exposure to arcturite can cause irreparable mental decay, making the wearer listless in some cases and manic in others.”

I don’t add what else I’m thinking. Tyr hasn’t just experienced prolonged exposure, he’s been wearing these fucking things for decades. I’ve always wondered what black market Atlas procured these from so many years ago. It’s forbidden to mine or sell arcturite due to its unique capabilities against High Fae, and these must have cost a small ransom in some backdoor arrangement.

Atlas doesn’t immediately reply to my comment as he stares at his brother, his mouth pressed into a line of obvious annoyance.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“He’s getting worse,” I say. “Take them off. Surely he can’t pose any threat in this state?”

I watch while Atlas weighs my words as if testing them for poison before he shakes his head.

“No, I can’t take that risk.”

“But he can’t give orders like this,” I try.

For Atlas to control me and my brothers, he needs Tyr to say the words, but he can’t do anything like this. It’s partly why I can maneuver around the rules as much as I do. Tyr commanded that we obey his brother, but Atlas’s own orders are thus delivered by proxy, giving them less weight. It’s also part of why I wasn’t forced to run to Atlas the moment I saw Lor.

What I told Nadir was also true—that Lor found me, not the other way around, and it’s by existing inside these small deceptions that I’m able to find a pocket of air within the stranglehold of my chains. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.

“Instead of worrying about the cuffs, you need to get him to talk. He’s no use to me when he’s like this,” Atlas says, his expression aloof. I tamp down my disgust. I don’t know how Atlas can look at what’s become of his brother and feel nothing about his role in causing this. “Without taking them off,” he adds when he sees I’m about to speak, predicting my next words with more insight than I’d like.

“What if we let him out for a bit? Took him for a walk in the garden for some fresh air?”

It would be risky, and I’d have to find some way to conceal his identity, but Atlas cleared out every staff member employed during Tyr’s rule, and he’s hardly recognizable as the golden king he once was.

“Maybe,” Atlas says. “I’ll think about it.”

I already know what that means—he has no intention of ever thinking about it. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember. He’ll tell me he’ll “look into it” or “speak with his advisors” like a coward instead of just admitting he doesn’t care.

Atlas looks outside and then pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Are we done? I need to go and meet with General Heulfryn. I’ve canceled it too many times and can’t avoid it anymore.”

“Sure,” I say, glancing at Tyr one more time before I touch his brow, running my finger along the ridge of bone. He blinks, and I hope it’s because he knows that I’m here and that I care. My thumb sweeps over his cheek, and he blinks again, my heart twisting in my chest.

I follow Atlas out of the room, locking the door and depositing the key into my pocket before we wind down the stairs. We make our way towards Atlas’s study, where I know Apricia’s father will be waiting, likely with his blades or fists prepared for a confrontation.

He’s furious about the continued delays with the bonding ceremony, and I’m not sure how much longer Atlas can continue sidestepping the general’s questions. Earlier, Atlas demanded to know if I had more news about Lor, and he seemed to swallow my carefully constructed lies.

I don’t know why I want to give her time to accomplish whatever brought her back here, but something in my gut tells me I need to. Everything she revealed about her lineage was shocking but not completely a surprise. Obviously, there’s more than what she revealed on the surface, given everything that happened and the fact Atlas wants to find her so much. I would never have guessed at the truth, though.

I find myself sympathizing with her. It seems like she’s been thrust into something against her will, and I understand all too much how that feels.

“Stay with me,” Atlas says. “I might need backup.”

I nod and resist the urge to roll my eyes.

If Lor is the Primary of Heart, then she must have powerful magic, and given Atlas’s obsession, the only logical conclusion is he wants to bond with her to access her strength. Though both Atlas and Tyr are able to channel the magic of Aphelion, their gifts aren’t quite the same. Atlas has an unparalleled gift of illusion, but Tyr’s most noticeable talent is the ability to use light as a weapon. Atlas has always been jealous of that, feeling what I can describe only as self-conscious that he has almost no offensive magic.