Page 27 of Tale of the Heart Queen

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“Bain,” Cyan says, his tone clipped like he doesn’t want to answer me.

“What’s he doing?”

Bain looks up and nods at Cyan, who then presses a hand to his chest and bows at the waist before straightening up.

“He’s monitoring the Coral,” Cyan says before gesturing for me to follow.

“Monitoring it?” I ask as I scramble to keep up.

“He’s the Artefact’s caretaker.”

“Caretaker?”

He glares at me. “Are you just repeating everything I say?”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” I grumble as I cast another look over my shoulder. I wish I could stay with the Coral, but I’m worried showing too much interest will further raise Cyan’s suspicions.

Tonight, I’ll come up with a plan. I’m resourceful. I’ve gotten myself out of tighter jams. Unfortunately, I can’t think of anything right now. Pain builds in my temple, and I massage it, willing down the nausea swirling in my gut.

I have three more days to get my hands on the ark.

Three more days until Nadir is lost to me forever.

I can’t let that happen. I will not let that happen.

So help me—I will raze this entire fucking palace to the ground if I must.

CHAPTER 11

GABRIEL

APHELION—THE SUN PALACE

Istare around the empty cell in disbelief. At the neatly folded clothes sitting on the floor like they’re mocking me. I can almost smell Atlas and the taint he’s left behind.

I avoid looking too closely at the worst horror in this dungeon, but there’s no shying away from it. The drip of blood fills the silence, hitting the stones and echoing off the cell’s damp corners, which means Atlas can’t have gone far.

I should do something. Call for help. Summon every guard in Aphelion to hunt him down. But I can’t seem to make myself move. I’m frozen to the floor, stuck in the churning darkness of time. The load I’ve been carrying for a century finally catches up with me. My chest tightens and my limbs ache, becoming physical manifestations of every hurt my king—former king—has inflicted upon me, Tyr, and my brothers.

Finally, I coax my gaze up, bearing witness to the warders’ lifeless bodies and their sagging wings. I stare at Drex’s fingertips, watching a line of blood slide down his hand and land on the floor. It makes almost no sound, but I flinch like someone set off a cannon.

How did Atlas overpower them? Warders have special protection against Aphelion magic. We aren’t completely immune to it, but its effects are limited. Atlas’s magic isn’t the destructive sort, anyway. That’s what so much of this has been about.

He must have caught them by surprise. Used his intimate knowledge of their weaknesses to trick them. Or he had help. Which means I’ll have to add rooting out anyone loyal to him to my growing list of chores.

Blood stains the front of the warders’ armor, and I force myself to acknowledge the wound sliced through the shimmering tattoo on Syran’s throat—that binding mark imprinted on our skin that made us all prisoners.

One of the few rules governing the kings and queens of Aphelion is their oath to protect their warders. Given the complicated nature of our relationship, they are sworn to never lay a hand on our bodies. Atlas has already broken that rule many times, but murder goes beyond anything I thought him capable of.

How could Atlas do this? After the decades that they’ve served him. Lied for him and kept his secrets. How could Atlas do this? I’ve long questioned Atlas’s weak moral compass, but I shake my head, wondering why I had any faith left in him at all.

I still bear the scars of his torture. We all do. Why do I keep giving him the benefit of the doubt? Because I never wanted any of this to be true.

Finally, I look around, searching for clues about how he escaped or where he might have fled. Or maybe I’m stalling because the longer I stand here, the longer until I have to make the decision that’s squatting on my chest like a stone.

I bend down and pick up a feather that’s floated to the ground, one side smeared with golden blood. I haven’t cried in years, but tears press the back of my throat.