Page 67 of Tale of the Heart Queen

I did it.

I intended to break out of that room but also to take some of it with me, including the arks. I can’t believe it worked. Frantically, I search through the trees and bushes. The debris forms a wide circle of marble and stone, and I lose track of the time it takes to collect them all as the sun passes overhead.

Eventually, I gather all four arks. The same one I stole from Alluvion, along with those of Celestria and Tor. Clutching them to my chest, I peer up at the sky, unable to believe my dumb luck.

But Zerra will come for these. Whether she knows of the Empyrium’s plans to replace her is now secondary. She spent centuries hunting these down, and now, with one fell swoop, they’re in my hands.

A sob chokes from my chest. I wish so badly Nadir were here. He’d know what to do.

What do I do?

Aphelion.

It was always my destination. I’ve lost my mate, and an unhinged god wants my head on a pike. I need to go to my safe place. The one thing that has always been my home. I have to find Willow and Tristan.

CHAPTER 26

NADIR

Ipick up a chair and hurl it at the window with all of my strength. It smashes apart, landing in a pile of splinters, but it has no effect. Still, I stare at the wreckage with a sense of grim satisfaction.

I’ve been at this for days. Ever since I saw Lor in Zerra’s mirror. I’ve screamed myself hoarse, demanding to be let out. My magic is powerless against the walls and windows of this room, simply dissipating or ricocheting off the surface, so I’ve resorted to less elegant means.

My room is a scene of destruction, like a forest decimated by termites. No one has tried to stop me, and I suppose it’s because nothing I’m doing has the slightest effect. And even if it did, where would I go? Zerra said we’re in and around Ouranos, which means nothing to me. Can I get back home on my own? What I know is that I’m not getting anywhere trapped in this room. I have to find Lor. If my father gets his hands on her . . . he will make sure she doesn’t escape again.

With the last chair lying in pieces at my feet, I scan the room, searching for something else I can use. The door comes and goes, which is very disconcerting. It appears in different places whenever someone enters to bring me food, though it’s been a few days since that happened. Thankfully, I’ve made it last, though I’m reaching the end of that, too. Zerra is punishing me for my disobedience. She called me Herric. Something tells me this is all so much worse than I originally thought.

A flash catches the corner of my eye through a window, and I spin around.

Red lightning fills the sky far in the distance. It sparks and cracks across the pristine blue, illuminating fluffy white clouds with blood-red streaks. I’m momentarily stunned until my brain catches up.

“Lor,” I croak. There’s no other possibility or explanation. I won’t accept one. It has to be her.

But I’ve destroyed everything around me—the bed, the tables, the chairs, the wardrobes. Not that any of it has been of use. I consider how hard it would be to drag the bathtub out here.

Out of frustration, I run for the window, hurling my body at it, using my shoulder to pummel the glass. And then I lose my mind, punching the surface, left, right, left, right until my knuckles bleed. I scream for Lor, frustration and rage oozing from every cell.

Blood smears against the glass, and then . . . a hairline crack forms. I stare at it in disbelief, blinking a few times.

A sacrifice. That’s what Zerra said. My blood? Or rather . . . my suffering.

I punch the window again, my hand screaming in agony as more blood paints the surface and more cracks spread. I think of how the wall crumbled when Zerra threw me against it. Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

I continue punching the window until my hands are numb with pain, but I’m making progress.

I back up to the far side of the room and run at the window, wincing as I collide into it with my shoulder. But more cracks form, spiderwebbing out like a million tiny lifelines.

Fuck. Yes.

Again. I run for the window, using my other side to give my shoulder a break. Again. More and more cracks form. Eventually, it has to give. I pick up a sharp splinter of wood and carve a long gash into my arm before swiping it over the glass as the cracks continue spreading.

“Hey!” comes a voice. Tia stands in the doorway, staring at what I’ve done. “You mustn’t do this,” she says, like we’re discussing the weather. I glare at her, and she must see the resolve in my eyes because something spasms in her expression.

“Come!” she yells behind her, finally displaying a sliver of emotion. “The prisoner is escaping!”

She keeps shouting for help, and I’m out of time.

So I back up and launch myself off the far wall, running in a blur towards the window, using all of my weight as I spin up my wings. The glass gives way in a shatter, and I’m almost too surprised to react. Especially as my wings blink out a moment later, my arms and legs windmilling as I start to plunge.