Page 38 of The Myths of Ophelia
We turned back to Ritalia. Once again, she stood proudly before her throne with Brystin. She lifted her chin, about to speak, but the main entrance to the audience chamber slammed open. The doors bounced against the stone wall with a boom, and the last person I expected to see ran in.
“Cypherion?” I shouted.
He was harried as I raced to him. The jaw he usually kept perfectly clean was dusted with auburn scruff, his eyes flying around the room like he didn’t care what or who he walked in on, only that he’d foundsomeone.
Malakai was on his heels, the two of us catching him right as CK’s knees gave out.
“He has her,” he repeated again and again, voice so low and broken. “He has her.”
I met Malakai’s eyes over Cyph’s slumped form, sought out Mila standing in the doorway, and the matching subtle shakes of their heads were all the confirmation I needed. My lungs tightened, air escaping.
Vale had not returned with Cypherion. She was not waiting in the antechamber with the others or the main foyer, was not back in Seawatcher Territory at all.
“Cypherion?” Ophelia asked softly, the queen and her bargain forgotten. “What happened?”
“Titus—” His voice kept cracking, like he’d ridden so hard to get here, he hadn’t slept in days, and now couldn’t force the words that had played on a loop in his mind out of his mouth.
“CK?” I asked, gripping him tighter.
“Star Tied One!” Ritalia’s voice sliced through the commotion, and my attention snapped up, following her venomous stare to…Malakai?
He raised his head, brows scrunching together.
The queen shoved herself forward, nearly stumbling, her diadem nowhere in sight. Mora, Lancaster, and a handful of other fae had raced back to their queen’s side, from where, I didn’t know.
Ritalia’s jaw trembled, but her voice was ice as she looked between Malakai and Cypherion and commanded, “Get your cousin out of here.”
Part Two
Valyrie
Chapter Thirteen
Ophelia
Even the airwas dismal as we trudged up the stone-lined path to the cottage late that evening. Like the pressure of the ordeal we’d undergone was weighing down the clouds, turning every breath thick.
Cypherion was unconscious, though entirely okay according to Santorina’s careful evaluation—his body had seemed to give out once he was back to us, as distressed as he’d been. Probably a defensive tactic, Rina guessed. Adrenaline and worry kept him fueled until he was safe and had told someone Vale was…
He hadn’t gotten far enough to tell us the details. But Vale was with Titus, her chancellor and apparent captor.
And Cypherion was now upstairs, Tolek and Malakai watching over him in the spare room the latter claimed.
Jezebel and Erista left to check on the khrysaor and Sapphire, Lyria and Mila going with them as Ezalia returned home. That left Santorina and me in the cottage’s cozy sitting room. Books and papers flooded the surfaces, a piano took up one corner, and it all felt crammed.
“Walk?” I asked Rina. Aside from evaluating Cypherion, she’d been silent since we returned, standing at the window overlooking the garden in contemplation.
She turned to me, nodding. “The beach.”
Still in those ridiculous fae gowns, we left the cottage and descended the dusty path to the white sand shore, tall grasses waving us along in the breeze. Moonlight glistened across the gently crashing waves. It was hard to imagine that a short boat ride away, the fae queen loomed in her palace.
“It feels like a weird dream,” I muttered.
“In a way,” Rina agreed. “But it also feels like a fate meant to strike.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, turning to her. My skirts slithered across the sand, the only sound besides the waves as I waited for Rina to continue.
After a long pause, she took a deep breath timed to the rolling sea and said, “I don’t belong here, Ophelia.”
