Page 91 of Fate of the Sun King

I back away, but there’s nowhere for me to go. I remind myself I’m not really here. Nothing can hurt me, at least not physically, but what will this do to my heart and mind? I force myself to look. This is my lot to bear. My burden to shoulder. I am her heir, no matter the mistakes she made, and it’s my job to fix them.

My grandmother continues speaking as her magic sparks around them both, the entire room glowing and flashing like we’ve been trapped inside a star. What is she doing? What is she saying? I can’t make out the words.

Red and green magic—her lightning and his dense green ribbons—flashes through the room, the edges trimmed with the faintest line of black smoke, like smoldering ruins. The air crackles as the hairs on my arms lift.

I take another step back as a high-pitched whine pierces the atmosphere. It drills into my ears, and I cover them as I watch the moment my grandmother realizes she fucked this all up. It’s there in the frantic widening of her eyes, the certainty of their deaths written with indelible ink, before suddenly, everything blasts apart in an explosion of blinding light.

I’m not really here, but I practically feel the heat of the air as it tugs against my hair and clothes. I shield myself with my arms, but there’s nothing to protect myself against. It all passes me by like mist.

The blast seems to go on forever until, finally, silence descends. Everything is gone. I’m surrounded by nothing but a black ring where my grandparents were standing. In the distance, I see the night sky overhead, the stars twinkling from above. Even the magic of The Aurora is gone.

My heart pounds in my chest, and there are tears running down my face. She did this. She stole the Crown, killed the Primary, and brought this destruction on them all. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes while she teetered on the edge of reason. Like she didn’t care whom she hurt as long as she got what she wanted.

I want to leave this place. I don’t want this to be where I came from. My legacy is a stain, blotting out everything. I take another step back, feeling behind me and wondering how I’ll get out of here. I can’t seem to make my voice work.

The Staff. I’d almost forgotten that was how I got here at all.

“Hello!” I yell, wondering why it’s still forcing me to witness this. It’s over. Everything is gone.

But then, a movement catches my eye, and I go completely still as a pile of rubble shifts before I hear a cough.

Someone is alive.

I’m not sure if this is worse than thinking everyone was dead. How did anyone survive this?

After another moment, the debris shifts again, and a head emerges from the wreckage. It’s the babbling woman. The High Priestess. At least, I think it is. She’s so covered in soot it’s hard to tell, but her silver hair shines through the layer of grime.

She no longer seems devoid of her wits. No, she struggles to her feet and surveys the damage with a wicked but entirely coherent smile. Her eyes have lost that rolling wildness and are now as clear as crystal.

She shakes her head and rubs her hands down her face as she dislodges some of the dust. Then she takes a careful step, her knee clearly bothering her, but she presses on. Slowly, so slowly, she makes her way across the room as I watch her, unable to believe my eyes.

Someone survived.

Someone who knew there was a child.

That’s when she stops and turns her head, looking directly at the spot where I’m standing. I hold my breath as I go perfectly still. She can’t see me, but the way she looks right into my eyes sends a chill over the back of my scalp.

And that’s when I recognize her.

She’s the High Fae female I killed when I was a child. I’m sure of it. I’d stake my entire life on it.

She stares at me as her face stretches into a smile. Then she looks up at the sky and pauses for several long seconds before she hobbles away.

A moment later, I’m once again standing in the throne room inside the Woodlands Fort with the Staff clutched in my sweating hands.

I gasp as my lungs fill with air like I’ve just emerged from the bottom of an ocean trench.

“Lor,” Nadir growls, his hand coming to my lower back. “Are you okay? You’re pale.”

“I’m not sure,” I whisper.

“What happened?”

I shake my head as Cedar approaches to take the Staff carefully from my hands and places it back on his throne.

“Lor?” Nadir asks, his jaw set. He looks like he wants to go and punch someone, and he’s just waiting to hear who the unlucky victim will be.

“I was there. It showed me that day in Heart. I saw my grandparents and our mother.” I look at Tristan, wishing I could somehow share the images in my head. Some of them. Not all of them. How will Tristan react when he knows what she did?