Page 63 of Song of the Heart Scale
Malachar's eyes glimmered. “Because the throne was never meant for him.”
I stiffened. “Then who?”
He reached forward, his fingers trembling, and touched my chest. “The one who walks between shadows. The orphaned flame. The blood that was cast out will rise anew.”
My mouth went dry. “You mean me.”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
I slowly stood, anger and dread coiling in my gut. “They can't keep you locked away.”
“They already have. My visions frighten them.”
“Then I'll get you out.”
His hand caught mine. “Not yet. If I leave now, they'll know you're coming for them. Let me be your ghost in the walls. When the time is right, I'll guide you.”
I stared at him, torn. Then I nodded. “You also don’t want to leave the old man, do you?” I nodded toward my father’s body, which still lay on his bed.
Malachar smirked. “Are you ever wrong?”
I snorted. “What good ever came from following him? Look where it led you!”
Malachar shook his head. “It led me exactly where I needed to be. Have no fear, Shadow Prince. I know what I’m doing and what needs to be done.”
I exhaled loudly and ran a hand through my hair, unsure what to do or say.
“You must protect the twin flame, Damien,” Malachar said. “Without rain, she will not be able to return home. That means her existence here places her at risk.”
I whirled on him. “I won’t let anything happen to her!”
He smiled knowingly. “I know. But Thorne has plans for her. You must be careful.” The seer patted his chest over his heart. “You, too, are vulnerable.”
I scoffed. “You think I don’t know that the old man gave my heart scale to that bastard?”
Malachar pressed his lips together. “It’s… complicated. Things are not always as they seem, Damien.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”
He sighed. “Leave me here. I’ll be your eyes and ears, and I’m well placed to protect the emperor. You will know when to come see me again.”
“Fine. But don’t die.”
He smiled weakly. “I’ll try my best.”
I turned back toward the door and slipped into the waiting shadows once again. My heart pounded—not from the risk, not from fear.
From truth.
The land had rejected Thorne. The Immortals had warned us. And now Malachar had confirmed what I refused to consider.
The throne was never his.
I was the one destined to take it.
Problem was, I didn’t want it—and I wasn’t going to take it.
