Page 2 of Tale of the Heart Queen

CHAPTER 2

“Oh, do stop your blubbering,” comes a sharp voice, shocking me into choked silence. My head snaps up to find we’re no longer in the forest where I dragged Nadir. “It’s so very . . . phlegmy.”

We’re in a massive round room, the floor made of a shiny material that might be marble, except it’s one continuous slab with no discernible breaks. Windows surround us, filtering in soft white light that seems to almost hum. I feel it more than I hear it with the barest vibration in the backs of my teeth.

Though this isn’t the same room where I met the Empyrium, premonition tells me I’m back in the Evanescence, but I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Given my luck lately, it’s probably a terrible fucking thing.

Before me stands a woman wearing a silvery dress that dusts the floor in light, airy folds. Her bronzed arms are bare, and her blonde hair curls almost to her waist, crowned with a silver circlet framing her lovely, heart-shaped face. A pair of piercing aquamarine eyes stare down at me with cool detachment.

She seems familiar, and it takes me a moment to place her. She’s the former Aphelion queen who failed to help her people and was “volunteered” to become a god.

“Zerra,” I whisper, and she tips her head, looking down at me like I’m dung smeared on the heel of her shoe.

“You called me.” She gracefully spreads her arms with her palms turned up. “So here I am.”

I search my surroundings for the Empyrium and their strange shifting body of many people, but there appears to be only the three of us in the room.

“This is the male you’re so attached to,” Zerra says with a sniff as she elegantly sinks to her heels and assesses him from head to toe. It takes a moment to process those words. Does she know who I am? Who Nadir is?

I reach out and grab her slender wrist. She feels as delicate as a bird, but the air around her is perfumed with the stench of chaos, and I would do well not to underestimate her.

“Can you help him?” I ask as she snatches it away.

She’s a god. Surely if anyone can fix this, then it’s her.

“Please. I screwed up. I lost control of my magic, and I . . .”

Zerra’s nostrils flare before she pushes herself to stand and takes two careful steps back, putting distance between us.

“I can help him,” she says matter-of-factly, as though she hasn’t just offered me a lifeline woven of glittering golden thread.

“Thank you,” I say, prepared to lay down my own life or whatever else she demands. “Please. I’ll do anything if you can help him.”

Zerra’s mouth twists up into a smile that sets me on edge.

“Yes. That you will, Lor.”

I blink, again noting the ominous bite of her beauty and waiting for whatever condition she’s about to attach to my future. Our future. I squeeze Nadir, hoping he knows I’m doing everything I can to fix this.

“What?” I finally ask while she continues staring at me with that same haughty look. “He’s not breathing. Hurry up. What do you want?”

She waves a hand. “Don’t worry. As long as he’s with me, he’s in a suspended state. He’ll be fine once I choose to revive him. It will be like you never killed him at all.”

Those words loosen the bolt screwed inside my chest, but it can’t be that easy. I’m confident I have many bridges yet to cross before this is over. I cling to him tighter, feeling how cold he’s grown already and how the color has leached from his skin. I run a thumb over the arch of his dark brow, my fingers caressing his cheek as my eyes burn with tears. When I look back at Zerra, she’s watching us, a crease denting the space between her brilliant blue eyes.

“What will make you choose to revive him?” I ask, gritting my teeth with impatience.

She clasps her hands at her waist and slowly paces a few steps left and then right before turning back. With my heart wedged in my throat, I clamp down on the urge to scream at her to hurry the fuck up.

“The arks,” she says after a few moments as a few pieces shift into place.

“The arks. Cloris Payne told us about them.”

“High Priestess Cloris,” she says. “You will respect her position and address her as is her station.”

I roll my neck because otherwise I’ll roll my eyes. I’ll respect Cloris fucking Payne when pigs grow unicorn horns.