Page 11 of Realms of Shadow and Sun

“That’s a good start,” Phillippe agreed, “United, the realms might stand a chance against Cressida. Divided, we'll fall one by one.”

Grayden nodded. “I'll draft some more communications,” he said. “We'll review them together before sending any envoys.”

As they prepared to leave the council chamber, Grayden paused, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Thank you, Phillippe,” he said softly. “I couldn't do this without you.”

Phillippe smiled, clasping Grayden's arm. “We're in this together, Brother. Always have been, always will be.”

As Grayden made his way back to his chambers, his mind raced with the plans they'd made. The challenges ahead were daunting, but for the first time since Renya had been taken, he felt a glimmer of hope. They would protect their people, strengthen their defenses, and build the alliances they needed to stand against Cressida.

And through it all, Grayden silently renewed his vow. He would find a way to bring Renya home, to reunite their fractured family, and to restore peace to their lands. The path ahead was uncertain, but with his brother by his side and the strength of their people behind him, Grayden knew they stood a fighting chance.

Entering his room, he found Selenia asleep in the chair by the fire, the kittens curled up in her lap. The sight brought a small smile to his face. In the midst of all the darkness, there was still light to be found.

Chapter Seven

It was hard to even look at her. Every time she spoke, Renya wanted to flinch and look away. The very sight of Cressida, with her piercing purple eyes and cruel smirk, sent shivers down Renya's spine. The oppressive atmosphere of the throne room, with its looming shadows and cold stone floors, only amplified her discomfort. How had she pledged herself to this monster? The weight of her decision pressed down on her, making each breath a struggle.

“Pay attention. Our magic works on impulse. None of that 'quieting the mind.' You have to want it. You need a reason to bring it forth.”

Cressida's voice cut through the air like a whip, each word laced with impatience and barely contained anger. Renya could feel the power radiating off the Shadow Queen, a dark, suffocating aura that seemed to suck the very life from the room.

Renya wanted to protest. Her mind screamed in defiance, urging her to fight back, to resist. But every time she tried to resist Cressida, her body burned and she lost control of herself. It felt as if liquid fire coursed through her veins, setting every nerve ending ablaze. Whatever magic was woven into the blood promise was strong, an invisible chain binding her will to Cressida's commands. Renya forced herself not to comply, to disobey, but she couldn't manage more than a few seconds of hesitation before her body snapped to attention. The internal struggle was exhausting, draining her both mentally and physically. Even now, she tried to hold off, but the sweat started at her hairline and she felt sick for the three seconds she managed to force herself still. Her vision swam, and her legs trembled with the effort of resisting.

“Now!” Cressida bellowed, her voice echoing off the cavernous walls of the throne room. The command reverberated through Renya's very being.

Renya acted on instinct, the bright golden strands of her magic bursting forth and rocketing towards Cressida. The magic felt warm and alive, pulsing with her own life force as it streamed from her fingertips. For a brief moment, the golden light illuminated the dark corners of the room, pushing back the oppressive shadows.

The Shadow Queen blocked the rays with a lazy flick of her wrist, and a shield of black mist deflected the heat of Renya's magic. The collision of light and dark created a brief, dazzling display of power before Renya's magic dissipated into nothingness. The air crackled with residual energy, leaving a metallic taste in Renya's mouth.

“See? Instinct,” she spat, her tone dripping with disdain. A cruel smile played at the corners of her lips, clearly relishing Renya's struggle and discomfort.

Renya glanced at the clock suspended between the two ivory pillars, its ornate hands seeming to move at an agonizingly slow pace. She'd been working with Cressida for an hour already. Her body was tight and exhausted, both from using her magic and trying to defy Cressida at every chance she got. Every muscle ached, and a dull throb had settled behind her eyes. But at this point, she was starting to realize it was useless. The futility of her resistance weighed heavily on her, threatening to crush what little hope she had left.

Just as she was about to ask to be dismissed and go back to her chamber, her jaw dropped. The heavy doors of the throne room swung open with a resounding creak.

Sion strolled into the throne room, with a piece of parchment in his hand. His presence was like a breath of fresh air in the stifling atmosphere. Renya wished she could meet his eye, beg him to help her out of this horrid predicament, but she knew she couldn't blow his cover. The risk was too great, the consequences unthinkable. Instead, she watched him walk gracefully over to the Shadow Queen's side, speaking in a low tone and handing her the paper he carried. His movements were fluid and practiced, betraying nothing of his true allegiance.

Cressida grabbed the paper and read it, her eyes darting over the script. While she was reading, Sion gave Renya a meaningful look. His eyes, usually guarded and neutral, held a flicker of something—concern? hope?—that made Renya's heart skip a beat. Renya attempted to figure out what he was trying to tell her, her mind racing through possibilities. But the second Cressida balled up the parchment in her hands, crushing it with unnecessary force, Sion dropped his eyes, his face once again an emotionless mask.

“Well, princess. It seems your mate survived. I was hoping he'd perish from his wounds, but it seems like I'll have to separate you two another way.” Cressida's words were like ice, each syllable dripping with malice. The casual cruelty in her voice made Renya's stomach churn.

Renya's heart raced faster, pounding so hard she was sure Cressida must be able to hear it. Surely, there wasn't a way to separate them? Fated matings were sacred and eternal, woven into the very fabric of their beings. Could she do such a thing? The mere thought sent a wave of panic through Renya, threatening to overwhelm her.

Without glancing at Renya, Cressida swept out of the room, her dark robes billowing behind her like a storm cloud. She called over her shoulder, her voice echoing in the vast space. “You're dismissed. Head back to your room, immediately. Sion, go back to my chambers. I'll be with you shortly. I have business to attend to.”

The underlying threat in her words was unmistakable, and Renya felt a pang of sympathy for Sion. She watched as Cressida's figure disappeared down the sky bridge, her silhouette a dark blot against the fading daylight.

Sion crossed in front of Renya, and in a split second, Renya's eye caught a tiny scrap of parchment floating to the floor in front of her. Time seemed to slow as she watched it drift down. Her heart leapt into her throat. Could this be a message? Hope, fragile but persistent, bloomed in her chest. She placed her slippered foot on top of it and slowly pulled it towards her, eyes darting to ensure Cressida didn't see the movement. Her pulse raced, and she held her breath, terrified of discovery. Thankfully, the Shadow Queen's back was turned, and she was already halfway across the sky bridge, her attention focused elsewhere.

Sion left the throne room in a flash, no doubt heading to his own personal hell that was Cressida's room. Renya's heart ached for him, knowing the ordeal that awaited him.

Alone, Renya bent and quickly grasped the paper, her fingers trembling slightly. She knew that if she strayed too long, she'd be forced to comply by the blood promise. The magical binding tugged at her, an insistent pressure urging her towards her room. She thrust the paper into the bodice of her gown, the rough texture of the parchment scratching against her skin, and quickly walked to her room. Each step felt like an eternity, her mind racing with possibilities of what the note might contain.

The second she burst through the door, she pulled out the sliver of paper and unfolded it, her fingers clumsy with anticipation. The words, hastily scrawled but unmistakably Sion's handwriting, leapt out at her:

Tonight at dusk. Leave your window unlocked.

Renya's heart leapt and gratitude washed over her, bringing unexpected tears to her eyes. Sion was going to help her. She was so thankful to have an ally here, even if she couldn't speak directly to him in anyone's presence. The tiny scrap of paper felt like a lifeline, a connection to hope in this dark place.

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