Page 86 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

My father bangs against the invisible wards, his eyes flickering with something dark. “I want to see my wife. You can’t keep me from her. Anders, summon your mother here.”

Before I can say a thing, King Bastian scoffs. “She’s busy preparing the palace for their Bonding Ceremony and wedding. You’ll see her tomorrow when we all travel there. For now—” He steps forward from our line, inspecting the wards. He lays a hand on them, and for a second, I see an invisible ripple of air. At once, my father stumbles forward. King Bastian nods to the Regils standing around us. “I think you can handle one more night in isolation.”

My father protests as guards grab him by the arms and surround him. He thrashes and yells, “I’m still a king! You have no authority over me!” His protests grow quiet as he’s dragged down a hall to where I’m assuming the holding cells are.

King Bastian turns toward us. “I’ll meet you both in my study.” He looks to one of the servants standing nearby, who seems shaken by the whole interaction. “See that dinner is brought up for them.” Then back to us. “I must attend to a new set of wards.”

With that, he heads down the hall to where my father was taken.

Raea turns to me, her large eyes searching mine. “How are you?”

I sigh, running my free hand through my hair. How am I? Not great. I place a quick kiss on her temple before guiding her to the staircase.

The word vacuous is still ringing in my ears, making the Aethermark in my soul do more than hum—it’s a sustained roar.

As I guide Raea up the stairs, my hand remains locked on the small of her back, a physical anchor I refuse to let go. I can still feel the possessive snarl that nearly broke through my throat when my father dared to breathe the same air as her.

To him, she’s a political piece on a board. To me, she is the only thing in this system worth protecting, and this possessive part of me is demanding I lock her away where his malice can never find her again.

After a few quiet minutes, I say, “I need to consider notifying my mother. This changes nothing.”

“But your coronation⁠—”

“Can wait. I don’t care about the crown. I care about you. I don’t know what to think about that whole interaction. I don’t understand why my father is so upset, but he won’t come between us. For now…” I pause, turning to face her. “Let’s just focus on what Astor and Calia said. We can deal with my father later.”

Or never.

After dinner is brought up, King Bastian enters the study. When we go to stand, he waves us back to our chairs. He’s quiet as he sits behind his desk, his knuckles tapping on the wood armrest as he gazes off in the distance.

Raea sips on her tea, warding off the chill. We’ve both changed into clean, dry clothes, but I don’t think this is the type of chill that comes from the water. I rest my hand on the back of her chair, letting the warm air flow, but it isn’t enough. I find myself leaning closer until my shoulder brushes hers, the contact grounding the erratic, protective pulse of my heart. I don’t want to warm her. I want to claim the space around her, ensuring Bastian—and the galaxy—knows that she is mine to protect. She turns her head toward my hand, and her eyes convey her gratitude and understanding.

“You made it to Sgya,” King Bastian starts. “Is that where he’s been or the Drift?”

I clear my throat. “He’s been on Evello, according to his notes. I found them years ago. I honestly didn’t know if he was alive. I don’t know how he ended up on Sgya.”

He nods, pacing the length of his desk, once, twice. “In the years before his disappearance, Aki grew…paranoid. He didn’t trust anyone at the end. He kept muttering about needing to go to prepare.” King Bastian stops pacing and leans over his desk to look at me.

There’s something similar to an apology written on his features as he says, “I never told your mother. That last week, I went to Malaya…” He shakes his head, dropping into his chair. “He said I wouldn’t understand, but I had to promise that Raea must never visit the palace.”

Astor’s warning about a 'bearer no longer whole' and 'loyalty festering in shadow' suddenly feels a lot less cryptic. My father didn't return—he brought darkness back with him. Maybe this war started years ago, silently infiltrating royal families. As Bastian talks about my father’s growing paranoia, I wonder if the 'work' my father completed on Sgya was actually the first stone laid in the path of the coming war.

“Why?” Raea asks from my side.

King Bastian shrugs. “I’m not sure, my dear. When we stopped visiting, it was after an incident with you two. I thought he always blamed you, but I couldn’t be sure. Your mother and I agreed to just keep you home.”

Something tugs at my memory. “What happened?”

His gaze goes distant once more. “You two were showing signs of magic. You’d both fallen asleep, and when we went to retrieve Raea to leave, there was a barrier of light around both of you. White strands mixed with glittering golds like an invisible wind. We couldn’t break through it, and you both were asleep, so there was nothing we could do.”

Raea looks at me as tears spill from her eyes. “I remember that night.”

“Your father convinced your mother that you two were attempting to Bond,” he scoffs. “At six years old. After that, he repeatedly denied our requests to visit until one day he asked us not to return with Raea. He thought it best. That’s when we had your memories wiped. You both struggled for months after, always asking for each other. We didn’t feel like we had a choice.”

The words hit me with a different kind of force than the cold water of the portal. We already knew they had wiped our memories—Bastian and Amaya had owned up to that—but I never understood the why. I always assumed it was a mutual decision for our protection.

Now, hearing Bastian describe my father’s demands, the truth settles like lead in my stomach. It wasn't about our safety. It was about Aki’s obsession with control. He saw two six-year-olds finding peace in each other and viewed it as a threat to his grand design. He didn't ask them to keep us apart. He bullied them into agreeing to create hollowed out versions of ourselves to satisfy a paranoia I’m only now beginning to fathom.

I look at Raea, the tears spilling from her eyes, and the anger in my gut turns to a cold, hard resolve. My father didn't steal our memories—he tried to break a Bond he couldn't understand.