Page 14 of Legacy of the Heirs
“I said I do not want you here!” Elisara bit back. Kazaar scanned her eyes, sensing the lies beneath her words. He did not know how to lower her defences. Elisara spun and walked away, but Kazaar reached her in seconds, grasping her wrist and turning her toward him. Colliding with his chest, she faltered, offering Kazaar a brief opening to keep her there—to say anything to keep her with him.
“Really?” Kazaar towered over Elisara and tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. She swallowed, and as he leaned in, he felt the rush of Elisara’s conflicting emotions and heard her racing heart.
“Then, why were you thinking about me?” Restraint hit him in the gut—Elisara’s restraint. She was holding back, but holding back what? Her anger? Her feelings? Or simply her words? Betrayal overshadowed Elisara’s restraint as she summoned air, readying to use it. He guessed her intentions and braced against the force of her wind, sliding a few feet instead of the entire throne room. He corrected his balance with his own air and flourished a hand to push her back. Using the powers he had hidden for so long felt right, as he used them only for her.
Kazaar knew she was hiding from the truth instead of confronting it. If she did not wish to relent, he could easily do the same instead of hiding his truth behind teasing. Elisara made a disgruntlednoise, and Kazaar refrained from laughing. She took heavy, determined steps toward him while the sky behind her brightened. The walls remained lost, yet the night sky was awash with falling stars that cascaded behind her as she stormed toward him. The shadows and light surrounding them earlier returned. A halo effect formed around Elisara and blinded him with her beauty.
“I expect more from you, my queen,” he said. Her expression wavered at his change in tone as if suspecting his tactics had changed. She narrowed her eyes and jabbed a finger into his chest. He tried not to react to her touch.
“Do not call me that,” she snarled, curls of hair half falling before her face. “I am notyours.”
Kazaar inhaled Elisara’s intoxicating scent of lavender and fresh snow. Her eyes darkened, but not with the shadows haunting her gaze—no, he sensed the desire buried beneath her fury.
“Are you not?” He reached for her collarbone, where the moon marked her skin. “Are you not mine?” The power within them sparked as his nose brushed hers, and she reached for his chest. This is what he wanted but had tried so hard to prevent himself from having.
“You hurt me.” Elisara’s voice cracked. “How am I meant to trust you?” Stars fell around them and washed away the memory, and when Kazaar opened his eyes, he was beside Elisara again in his chambers. He sighed in relief as she blinked, staring up at him.
“I’ll spend my life proving myself to you, angel.”
Chapter Nine
Larelle
“Are you always going to beat me when we race?” Alvan called, finally catching up to Larelle. She glanced back at him and laughed, slowing her horse. She recalled their first race to The Bay before they discovered the truth about Riyas’ death. Yet instead of sand beneath the horses’ hooves now, they rode across pale grass, darkening into emerald and swaying in the light breeze as they reached Garridon’s border. After crossing the bridge over the last river in Nerida, they would now follow its path until hitting the point at which the river’s curve ran adjacent to Seley in the distance. The river’s pull to her right felt odd with the dark forest treetops in the distance.
“Mumma is just better than you!” Zarya giggled. Larelle kissed the back of her daughter’s head, who sat before her, clutching the horse’s mane. Zarya refused to sit in the carriage and instead insisted on riding with her mother. Larelle did not mind. She tried to spend as much of her spare time with her daughter as possible, especially as she would see little of her once they reached Garridon’s capital.
Larelle was surprised when she received a letter from Princess Sadira the previous night. While they intended to journey to Garridon for the engagement ball, she had not anticipated the future queen’s wish for company in the days prior.I understand if you have other duties,the letter had read.There is surely plenty more a queen must attend to than providing conversation to a princess new to her realm.
Larelle read between the lines. The princess was lonely, andLarelle knew all too well how it felt to be an outcast in society. She imagined adjusting to royal life was just as difficult, perhaps more so, for someone who knew the crown was their birthright yet had been kept from it.
Larelle opted to be cautious, given the attitude of Sadira’s sister, Soren, towards the other rulers. Nevertheless, Larelle couldn’t escape an innate sense that Sadira was different. The Neridian queen trusted her intuition when it came to people and their intentions. Perhaps that was why Larelle trusted her small circle of friends and why a weight lifted from her shoulders the moment she revealed the prophecy to Lillian, Alvan, and Olden.
The three were calm as she spoke, their expressions neutral. It was a far easier experience than when the Historian had revealed Novisia’s history to Larelle and the other rulers or when they learned of the prophecy from Elisara and Kazaar. Of course, the group had many questions surrounding what they should do for their people. Alvan questioned Keres’ capability to build more weapons; Lillian asked if Vala could harvest more healing water from their stalactites, while Olden remained quiet throughout the entirety of their discussions, gazing glassy-eyed across the dark ocean, the sun having set behind the clouds. When Alvan asked for his thoughts, Olden’s answer would forever be engrained in Larelle’s memory. The man she had come to know as a father turned to face her, his eyes bloodshot.
“He’s really dead?”
Lillian had silently risen, with Alvan following; he departed with a comforting squeeze on Larelle’s shoulder. For the rest of the evening, Larelle and Olden spoke of Riyas, sharing stories interspersed with tears and laughter. They spoke of Riyas regularly over the years, but there was a sense of closure in that moment after finally discovering the truth behind what they had always questioned.
Larelle felt the effects of the late evening as she yawned and tightened her hold on Zarya. Alvan smiled and increased his pace untilthey rode side by side. She wished Olden were here. He insisted the journey would be too much for him, yet perhaps he merely wished for time alone after the revelations about his son.
With their talk of Riyas, Larelle had not shared the Historian’s warning, which lingered heavily on her mind. Chewing her lip, she turned the words over until a gentle, fleeting touch on her knee turned her head. Alvan furrowed his brow, his hazel eyes intent. She shook her head and glanced pointedly at a sleeping Zarya. Not even the sound of the guards galloping on either side of them on horseback disturbed her daughter’s slumber.
Alvan was quick to suggest they stop overnight at his settlement in Seley to ensure neither Zarya nor Larelle were too exhausted from the journey. Larelle was happy to oblige, having little memory of the place bordering both Nerida and Garridon. Given its historical tendency to change hands over the years, Larelle had rarely visited as a child and never since becoming an adult.
She was intrigued to see the place where Alvan had grown up and learn more about the person she had become so close with.
“Can you remember the last time you visited?” he asked.
“Honestly? No.” She blushed, and he chuckled.
“I am not offended,” he reassured her. “If I, too, am being honest, I hated living in Seley for some time. Perhaps that is why I was so quick to take Riyas up on his offer to train on the ships with him.” Alvan’s features glowed beneath the sun, and Larelle focused on the subtle downturn of his lips and the rise and fall of his chest. He glanced away upon catching her staring and cleared his throat. She knew little of the events that took his parents, only that a fire had burned his home to cinders, taking them with it.
“Do you miss being here?” she asked. “You have spent so much time in Mera with me.”
He instantly shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Seley is small, and its people are self-sufficient. I do not have a relationship with them like the other lords in our realm. They do not need me to govern them unless a problemarises, which is rarely the case.”
