Page 171 of The Myths of Ophelia
“Our line spans expansive territories of power, but Lancaster is the only family I remain in contact with.”
“Truly? With so much family, how could you turn your back on them?”
“When he turned of age, he was summoned by the queen, to the capital where I lived and worked.” Her voice sobered. “He did not take kindly to it.”
Her words faded; she was unwilling to share anymore of her brother’s business. And in those last words, ire burned. A familiar kind, but I was uncertain to whom hers were directed.
“I imagine anyone would hate having their autonomy taken in such a way,” I said, defensively. It didn’t make this fae male different than anyone else. In fact, it aligned him with humans more than he probably cared to acknowledge.
We don’t all have choices, Lancaster had said of his status serving Queen Ritalia when I was healing him. When I had called him cold and cruel.
“I only say it because I do not think you are as different as you believe.”
“Yes,” I deadpanned. “I was bred with an instinct to kill him as well. He should be careful when he sleeps tonight.”
“In a sense, weren’t you?” She inclined her head, and?—
“Aoiflyn’s tits,” I swore beneath my breath, kicking a rock. Personal retribution aside, she was correct. Perhaps it explained that carnal need for revenge for the civilizations I never even knew.
“You share his attitude, that is certain.” Mora laughed, and even Celissia snickered.
“Thank you for the opinion,” I said, voice thick with sarcasm.
The female clicked her tongue. “Santorina, it was not meant to be rude.”
“Forgive me if I do not care to be compared to someone whose sole purpose in life is to kill me. Queen or no, that is a difficult bridge to cross.”
“You’re correct,” she said, and I blinked at that agreement, coming to a stop in front of the inn. “We are all players in a gameof legends long spun. The moves we make, the sacrifices at our hands, it was all decided long, long ago.”
My anger sank. “That’s a rather sad way to look at life.”
“Or it is freeing. To know there are powers out there guiding us,” Celissia suggested.
“It is both,” Mora agreed, and for someone typically so full of jubilant hope, she sounded starkly remorse. “I envy the shorter warrior and human lifespans at times because of the naivety it allows you all to live under. But the realms appear to be shifting.” She eyed the piles of sand littering the streets. “Though I do not believe what was read in that cave tonight, it is important to remember the game. To prepare for unexpected strings to be pulled, and the most enchanted of royal hands to be played.”
I followed her stare to the sand stirring in the breeze, contemplating precisely what moves the Gods had in store.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Ophelia
The inn wassilent by the time Tolek and I returned from the market. Angellight still buzzed beneath my skin, warm and indulgent. After the Rites, no patrons lingered downstairs, not a single one loitering in the hallways as we traipsed to the third floor our party had commandeered.
“Come on, Alabath,” Tol whispered, taking my hand to lead me into our room.
I stepped inside as he held the door, his palm warm against mine settling something in my spirit that hadn’t quieted since Vale’s reading.
The rooms in this inn were bedecked in the rich, lavish colors of the Soulguiders. Deep amethysts and sage greens, pops of turquoise and bronze dangling from mystlight chandeliers and framing decor, adorning the headboard and four posts on the bed. Desert marigolds bloomed on the desk, the stark yellows as bright as those I imagined in Firebird’s Field, which only brought my mind back to Vale’s reading?—
The lock clicked shut, and Tol tugged on my hand. Turning, I surveyed him. He leaned against the wood, his head thuddingback. With a sigh, he stroked his thumb across my knuckles, tingles erupting up my arm.
He watched that spot where his skin brushed against mine repeatedly for a long, heavy moment, tension crackling in the air around him like he was about to splinter.
“Tol?” I asked, stepping toward him.
“I love watching you wield magic—wield pure power,apeagna.” When his eyes snapped up to mine, they wereburning. “But I hate those fucking emblems.”
There wasn’t another word before he hauled me to him, spinning so my back pressed to the door, the smooth wood cool against my spine, and his lips crashed into mine. It wasn’t a fleeting, gentle kiss like the ones we exchanged at any given point in the day, and it wasn’t quite languorous and sensual like when he showered me with adoration each night.
