Page 87 of The Legacy of Ophelia
“I know that is what Valyrie has always said,” I muttered, squinting into the distance, where our sister swooped back onto palace grounds, her arms laden with purchases, “but I do not always believe it.”
The Fates were not so different from us, rife with a power often overlooked.
“Either way,” I continued, turning from Bant and striding to the opposite edge of the cliff, looking over my city, “the pieces are falling into place.” A breeze ruffled my feathers, blowing my hair across my face. I inhaled the mountain air I had yearned for so long. “Remember, she was never supposed to be as she is either, but she is a promise we did not count on. Perhaps others will be, too.”
With a grunt of agreement, Bant added, “Valyrie has spoken wishfully of the Starsearcher.”
“She has.” I glanced at him over my shoulder, raising a brow. “And your own warriors?”
Bant kept his hands folded behind his back, his unkempt black hair trailing around his shoulders. The two great lashing scars on his wings caught the light between his feathers. Without turning, he answered, “The one with the wound intrigues me. When the queen impaled him with my magic, it…lingered.”
“Has he become blessed?” I asked.
Bant contemplated, still staring in that same direction. “I will have to get closer to truly see.”
“Bide your time,” I advised. “Especially after what happened in the dark pools recently.”
“That was unexpected,” Bant agreed, wings ruffling. “Echnid believes that power will be his key, so he is watching it closely. Do you think they will figure out the truth before him?”
“If they are as smart as the warriors we once knew, they may,” I grunted.
If all went as we hoped, we could orchestrate a glorious downfall and earn back the might we truly deserved. A sensation I had not felt since before the death of the last Chosen inflated my chest. Pride. It was unfamiliar and brightened my ether, sending a golden glow tumbling down the cliffside.
“We will need to be careful of Thorn,” Bant said, piercing that bliss.
“Yes,” I agreed. Our fallen brother was the wildest of cards in this plot.
His move in unlatching the final lock within Ophelia’s mind that woke the seraph was risky, but it gave Echnid something to focus on. A mission to distract him while the seven of us worked toward our own goal—goals. We had many priorities after so many centuries being stifled.
And it allowed Ophelia to command the full might of a seraph, which would be necessary.
Beneath his breath, so low I could barely hear it, Bant muttered, “He is only steps away from his solution.”
“I know,” I exhaled the words, fearful in a way I was unused to. “I know.”
But now that the Alabath sisters had this myth magic, we may be able to achieve everything much more easily than we initially thought. After centuries, we would stop at nothing—would see whatever crumbled reigns and bloodshed that it took.
And I doubted something as humane as remorse would drown out our victory.
Chapter Thirty
Santorina
The human settlementalong the Wild Plains north of Palerman had been turned into a training camp a few months ago. It had expanded since I first visited, but the same charming cottages dotted the paths, laundry strung along the fences. Training circuits bordered by hay bales were jammed in the clearings between cypher patches, and the market was busy as usual. It was quaint despite the quick growth resulting in temporary tents sprung up in yards while lodgings were decided.
At the start of the year, Jezebel had flown me to visit a few of the camps, along with Erista and Ezalia, and the welcome was incredibly warm. But as Lancaster and I knocked on the door of the cottage belonging to the lieutenant of the Mystique armies who manned this camp, my stomach twisted.
Jittery, I scanned the pink rose bushes lining the walkway. “Ugh, roses,” I muttered.
“You have a vendetta against flowers?” Lancaster drawled, an emotion I couldn’t identify tightening his words.
“Only the ones that smell like your bloodstained soul,” I answered dryly.
Lancaster blinked at me, and despite his usual quick wit, I had a feeling he didn’t know if I was joking this time. The fae all smelled like iron-tinged florals to me, and after him carrying me all night as we traveled here, I couldn’t get the scent out of my damn nose.
He was about to comment when the door swung open. A kind-faced man, eyes glinting over his high, dark-skinned cheekbones, gripped the knob in a steel fist. He was still in a light tunic and pants, not yet dressed in leathers for the day.
“Willox!” I greeted. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
