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The silence that follows is deafening. Lyxander’s head, to my surprise, remains high, his posture relaxed. All his kin seem to hold their breath, as if this moment is a precipice, and her response will determine whether they fall or fly.
The queen’s expression is impassive, her flinty gaze sweeping over us.
“As I said, his mistake was in leaving in the first place,” she finally says.
I sense a shift among my companions. It’s subtle, but it’s there, in the way Kato’s smile wavers and in the loosening of Cynna’s clenched hands.
“And now,” the queen continues, her voice colder still, “not only have you returned after abandoning your people, but you’ve brought a stranger into our home.”
Her gaze snaps to me, and I force myself to remain still, to keep my expression neutral. I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me falter. After a lifetime of doing the same before my father and the Eagle, the resolve comes easily.
Lyxander’s shoulders tense. “She’s not a threat.”
“That remains to be seen. You know outsiders are forbidden from entering Aerilos, Lyxander. And yet, here she stands. Come closer,” she says to me.
I forge my features into an expression I hope looks pleasant. Stepping around the others, I avoid the stares I can sense turning my way and lift my chin as I close the distance.
“You look so much like her,” she says.
“You knew my mother well, Your Majesty?”
“Knew her well?” She looks at me the way one might a small child who has said something amusing. “Nephelle and I ruled alongside each other for over two centuries. We were friends, she and I.”
My breath catches, and I glance at the empty throne beside her, the one carved from the same translucent crystal as her own. Two centuries. My mother had a whole life here—a throne, a kingdom, a people who looked to her for guidance. She ruled alongside this woman, shared power with her, shaped this place.
And apparently, she left it all behind for me.
The queen’s expression has shifted. Her lips are now pressed into a thin line and her eyes narrow.
“But that was before she let that prophecy into her head and abandoned her people,” she says.
The words are a blade, and I feel the sting of them as though they were meant for me. I will myself not to wince at the mention of the prophecy. I had buried it so deeply, so carefully, that I’d almost managed to forget Lyxander bringing it up at all. And now she’s dredging it up—to what end? To test me?
“Tell me, child.” Her tone is barely a whisper, deceptively calm as she leans forward. “Has that same prophecy given you a sense of self-importance? Do you believe yourself destined for something greater, as she did?”
Her questions coil around my throat, silencing the bitter laughter threatening to escape—a small mercy. If that’s truly how she sees me, then she’s entirely mistaken. I hold her gaze, refusing to look away. But the fact that she knows of this prophecy when I don’t know what it entails doesn’t sit well with me. It feels like an advantage, one I don’t want her to have.
“I don’t presume to know my destiny, Your Majesty,” I say carefully. “I only came here to learn of my theïkós.”
Her eyes linger on me, calculation in their depths.
“If you wish to remain in Aerilos, you must abide by our customs. Outsiders are not welcome here, but I am willing to be lenient on account of your lineage.”
Footsteps sound behind me, then Lyxander is at my side. “Aunt—”
Queen Khione cuts him off with a single glance. “Harpaurai who do not emerge are banished from Aerilos. This is not a place where the wingless thrive, which you would know if you had been raised here. If you are to remain, you must gain your wings.” Venomously, she adds, “By Aethernight.”
Someone inhales harshly behind me, and the sound is swallowed by a distant roll of thunder.
Lyxander’s calm veneer cracks. “Aethernight is one month from now. Forcing her into this before she’s ready—”
“Do you wish to challenge me, nephew?” Khione’s voice drops into a dangerous quiet.
The air shifts, becoming charged with something I can’t grasp. Next to me, Lyxander stands rigid, his storm-laden presence crackling. Slowly, he bows his head, a quiet submission that pains me to watch.
The sight of it makes something spiral in me, urging my pulse into a frenzied beat as I frantically search for a solution.
Aethernight is an annual celebration in Arkhadia. Before Boreas disappeared, he gifted the aurora to the winter kingdom as a token of his love and protection. The lights are a reminder that, even in his absence, he watches over his people.
