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Like everything was taken from me.
I was being clawed apart, piece by piece. I could feel the invisible hands touching me, pulling me down, down, down into the abyss. I thought I’d escaped. But that had been a lie too.
Lies. Secrets.
They swirled around me.
Queen of Secrets.
This is what it means to be a queen.
I’d always known the price. Me—I was the price. My soul. My lack of magic. My secret would doom my throne, my kingdom, thrust us into another war. The Ancestors had planned for everything. But they hadn’t planned for me.
One night fell. Then another. Then I stopped seeing the daylight, stopped looking for it.
I looked into the night instead, letting the darkness into my soul, where hollow emptiness had always lingered. Let the darkness take me, let it dull the pains and the edges of emotions too strong, too much.
Make it stop.
But even the darkest night has stars.
Pinpricks of light.
Parys, curls unkempt, familiar body pressed against mine from hip to shoulder.
Lyrena, curling flame from her fingertips to light the darkness.
Gwen, a creature made for darkness and loyalty.
Even Gawayn, steady and true as always.
The darkness tried to consume me. But this time, I looked up and saw the stars.
65
VEYKA
There is a difference in moans.
Moans for when pleasure rolls through you. One for when that pleasure comes at your own hands, and a second when there’s an audience to hear it.
Moans that border on groans to express annoyance or disapproval.
Moans of pain.
We moan for help from the Ancestors or whatever higher beings the humans and priestesses pray to. Deep, guttural cries as the blood tears from our bodies and the soul demands its own outlet as well.
Then there are the moans you only make when you’re alone. The expression of agony that is for no one but yourself—when you’re certain the higher beings have deserted you.
I heard all of those moans of pain from Cyara’s mouth in the days I sat by her bedside.
I thought I’d heard them all.
And yet, when she shifted on the bed and let out a low moan, I realized I was wrong. Because this one told me that she was finally awake.
I fell to my knees at the bedside, my fingers curling around the bedsheet tight enough to tear. “Don’t move! I’ll send for the healers.”
“Veyka? I beg your pardon—Your Majesty—”
