Page 21 of Tale of the Heart Queen

“Goodbye,” he said, receiving no response as he stood and headed for the door. He opened it and looked back, but she continued staring out the window, pretending he was no longer there.

Then he dipped his head and entered the hall, where a group of soldiers waited. They surrounded him, forming four corners, as they led him through the palace towards the throne room. The wide doors stood open, revealing a space already filled with hundreds of nobles who had arrived for the occasion.

Garnet, the Aurora King, sat hunched on his throne, his shoulders bent and his head hanging limply. His once robust frame had shrunk, his skin stretching over angled, protruding bones. Shadows darkened his eyes, and his hair, once thick and black like Rion’s, had been leached of its color, trailing in thin wisps of near white.

Garnet had been taken by the Withering decades ago, yet he still lingered, clinging to this shallow excuse for life. Rion couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just descend and put himself out of his misery.

He entered the room and stopped, surveying the crowd. He would convince his father to descend or find some way to bend the rules of the Torch. He was done waiting, and this bonding made the matter even more urgent. Without the ascension, this bonding was worth less than nothing. While he would come into his full power, all it really did was leash him to a woman—a family—for which he felt nothing.

A path ran through the center of the crowd. As he strode down it, he couldn’t help but feel he was headed for the gallows, heads bowing as he passed. He rolled his neck, trying to dispel the pinch between his shoulders. This was the decision he’d made, and now he’d live with the consequences. There was no other choice.

At the front of the room, his father and mother watched over the proceedings. They were thrilled about their first grandchild, but they wouldn’t have much time to spend with the baby—not if he had his way.

Meora, that woman, already waited at the front of the room, and he did everything he could to control the curl of his lip. It wasn’t that she wasn’t beautiful—that’s what had drawn him to her in the first place—it was that she was baseborn. Nothing but a lower-class woman who worked in a school. How she had even garnered an invitation to the same event was still a mystery, and he was sure it had been part of her plan to trap him. She must have talked someone into it. Planned the entire thing from the very start.

Her hand rested on her stomach, visible with the first indication that she was with child. He looked at it and then up at her doe eyes swirling with fear. She’d had the gall to entrap him, and now she was learning he wouldn’t simply be had. Now she would suffer for what she’d done.

“Your Highness,” she squeaked, dipping into a curtsy. Rion nodded, saying nothing as he took his place next to her before the Torch suspended in its bracket between his parents.

In front of them stood another woman—a High Priestess.

They didn’t actually need her for this, but these messengers of Zerra liked to insert themselves into the happenings of Ouranos and somehow arrive on the eve of anything important. Rion glared at her, and she gave them both a beatific smile as though she were the one in charge. He didn’t like these women. They always wanted something, and they made his skin crawl.

Maybe once he was king, he’d ban them from The Aurora entirely.

“Welcome,” the priestess said. “Today, we celebrate the bonding of two High Fae who hold destiny in their hands.”

She smiled at Rion and Meora, but he’d never felt less like returning it. He stared at his soon-to-be bonded partner as the High Priestess began the ceremony, willing Meora to stop existing. As the priestess droned on, he shifted from foot to foot, wishing they’d just get this over with.

But then, something else curled in the back of his mind. Something softer and lower.

Rion.

Another voice. He blinked, looking around him.

Everyone watched the priestess, their eyes glued to her as she waved her arms.

Rion.

Once more, he looked around the room, but it was obvious that no one else had heard it. If Rion didn’t know any better, he could have sworn it was coming from the Torch, but it was too soon. He was not a king yet.

The orange flame in its mouth flickered and sparked as the priestess continued enjoying the sound of her own voice.

Rion listened intently.

When nothing else happened, he shook his head, trying to focus on the proceedings. He must have imagined it. He was under a lot of strain.

Finally, the priestess was done speaking and she stepped aside, a hand sweeping towards the Artefact.

The Torch sparked, the flames turning green, then purple, then blue.

Rion stared at Meora unblinking, seeing the future stretching before him, uncertainty paving every step of his path.

But the pieces had been set. It was time.

CHAPTER 10

LOR