“Give it back to me,” he says, holding out his hand. “Give it to me now, and I’ll try to grant you mercy. You can’t escape this place. Guards are stationed everywhere.”
I look behind me, watching as a line of said guards files into the throne room. Behind Cyan, another group gathers, all eyeing me with hardness. I’m surrounded.
“Bain,” Cyan says, looking up at his father with tenderness. “Return to your room.”
Bain nods and scurries off before the Alluvion king focuses his fierce attention on me.
“Lor. I’m sorry that Nadir is gone, but that is not my concern.”
Cyan takes a slow step towards me, and I take another back, still clutching the ark.
“Give me the ark,” he says again. “I can’t let you walk out of here with it. She tried to take them once, and I’ve sworn never to let it fall into her hands.”
“He’s going to die,” I say as tears fill my eyes. “I’ll never see him again.”
He takes another step, and I’m lost. This is over. It was an impossible task, and I never had a chance of succeeding, but a small part of me still hoped.
The sound of hurried footsteps draws Cyan’s attention behind him.
Linden comes running towards us. “We have visitors,” she says, her expression grim.
“Who?” Cyan asks.
“An army.”
The king of Alluvion stares at her, waiting for the crushing blow she’s about to deal.
“We believe it’s the Aurora King.”
CHAPTER 16
RION
THE AURORA—287 YEARS AGO
“Would you like to feel him kicking, Your Majesty?”
Rion turned away from the window to find the midwife wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Meora had started bleeding earlier that morning and called for Lisette to ensure everything was right with the child.
“Good news, it was only a little scare,” Lisette added. “Sometimes it happens as we near the due date, but the baby is fine. You have a strong one growing here.” She wiped her hands on a cloth and beamed down at Meora, who lay on the bed, sweat coating her face, her hair a nest of dark tangles.
She looked at him expectantly, running a hand over her bare, swollen belly as if hoping a sliver of affection would manifest for the child who would soon join their lives.
With his hands behind his back, he approached and stared down at her.
Nadir.
The Torch had confirmed it was a boy.
Meora had chosen the name to represent its connection to the celestial sphere.
But Rion saw it the other way.
This child was his downfall. The lowest point of his fortunes.
Perhaps it wasn’t right to blame him. And Rion didn’t blame him so much as he did the boy’s mother.
He’d wondered, too, when all was said and done if he might summon up something close to affection for the child. Part of him had expected it after the bonding when there would be no turning back, but it had yet to manifest. When he closed his eyes and imagined him, this child born of his skin, all he saw was everything he’d lost.