Page 39 of Legacy of the Heirs
“I surpassed you the second you showed your true hand—the second you betrayed YOUR QUEEN.” Nyzaia flinched, having never heard him raise his voice. “I bested you because I still have her trust.” He glanced at Nyzaia as if seeking confirmation that she trusted him despite what happened in Khami. She nodded, and in one quick motion, Farid swung. Nyzaia gasped, taking a hesitant step forward, but Tajana still stood. The only mark was the torn leather on her chest.
“Pick it up,” Farid growled. Tajana stood her ground and looked at Nyzaia, who ignored her. “I said,pickit up.” Farid angled his blade at Tajana’s cheek as she crouched and reached for the fabric on the ground. When she rose, she handed the Keres sigil to Farid—the mark of loyalty to the realm and Nyzaia, who she had betrayed.
Farid turned from Tajana, and Nyzaia almost missed a flash of flames in his eyes that were gone in seconds before returning to their otherworldly shade of blue. He handed Nyzaia the pin, andshe crushed it with her fist.
“Nyzaia, please, you need to understand—” Tajana strode towards her but was met by a fiery wall, forming a shield around Nyzaia and her heart. When her lip quivered, Jabir reached for her, but she had already turned for the exit.
“I am fine,” Nyzaia said. “I am always fine.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Soren
This was not part of the plan. At no point in the prophecy was Soren meant to nearly die at the hand of a creature before reclaiming her throne—a throne she had been seconds from taking, if not for her sister’s intervention. The unpredictability of the evening sunk in as Soren thought of the events that had unfolded, oneshehad told her nothing about. She could only assume it was his undoing and would confront such secrecy later that night. Soren despised being unprepared or thrown off by events outside her control, like when Nyzaia mentioned the state of Isha’s rooms. Soren did not know why Isha would have a shrine to the four realms when she believed the woman was loyal to her alone. It bothered Soren, not knowing if she had been double-crossed. Yet Soren focused on the minor details to avoid bigger confrontations; it was why she had left Tajana to clean up her mess with Nyzaia.
Soren recalled the look in Sadira’s eyes when Soren lowered her sword and stepped back, accepting the fate that would befall her sister. It was Sadira’s fault; she had grown too attached to the usurper. She paused in the hallway, wondering if a touch of regret would seep into her blackened heart. Nothing.
“Is all going to plan?” asked Talia to her left, returning Soren’s focus to her surroundings as they strode through the vaulted hallways of Antor Castle. Trails of blood marked the stone, highlighting a path to the infirmary.
“Of course it is not going to plan,” Soren snapped. Talia clenched her jaw, and a pang of what she assumed was guilt pierced her, but only for a moment. “I apologise.” Soren glanced aroundto ensure no one had heard her moment of weakness, and the pair continued walking, silent but for their footfall. “It is just—”
“Yes?” Talia asked eagerly.
“Your cover is blown,” Soren sighed. “We have no more close spies remaining near Asteria Castle other than the few servants.” She turned the corner and reached the infirmary. Talia put a hand out to stop her before they entered. From the many voices within, Soren knew it was overcrowded.
“I do not believe you have anything to worry about when it comes to the queen of Vala,” Talia said, her tone hushed. She glanced at the Garridon soldiers, briefly filtering past them.
“How would you know when she has been spending all her time with her commander?” Soren hissed. Talia rolled her eyes.
“The last few months are nothing compared to having known her for years. She does not want power; she never has.” Although Talia tried to reassure her, Soren was not so confident. She had seen how unchecked Elisara’s power was and how easily the weather changed with her emotions. Soren would not put it past Elisara to lash out with her power should Soren do anything to anger her. “The commander is simply a distraction,” Talia finished. “What are the next steps?”
Soren contemplated her answer, wondering how much of the long-term plan to reveal.
“I cannot tell you here,” Soren said at last, nodding to those gathered behind Talia. “There are too many ears.”
The Keres-born beauty spun her head and groaned at the sight of Helena, Vigor, and Vlad at the end of the hallway, marching straight for them.
“I will leave you to deal withthatfallout.” Soren laughed humourlessly. “Find me in the morning. You and Tajana need to debrief before you leave with the Historian.” Soren spun before Talia could protest. Talia would not wish to be far from Soren, having only just reunited. Yet Soren could not gauge Tajana’s intentions.
Soren had met Tajana and Talia when she was sixteen during herfirst visit to the mainland. At such a young age, the first step of her plan was to create a network of loyal spies. Perhaps she had been naïve to pick the first two girls she saw, or perhaps some Wiccan blood ran through her after all, and the gut reaction to the pair was a gift from her ancestors.
The girls huddled in an alleyway under a makeshift tent of scrapped fabrics. Talia had been close to death due to an infection spreading from a wound in her abdomen, inflicted after their final attempt at stealing food from the market. Part of Soren believed they would have signed their lives away to anyone who had offered them aid, yet the other part felt the odd tie of friendship between them all and knew they would not abandon her.
Soren had taken a vial of healing salve Sadira had made from the island. While it did not work as quickly as if Sadira had applied it, it worked all the same, and so Tajana promised their service for life—a deal she had signed willingly in blood, as was the old Wiccan way. A blood tie was said to kill the party who betrayed it. Nothing suggested it was true, but she thought neither woman dared risk it.
On more than one occasion, Soren questioned if Nyzaia would be Tajana’s breaking point after her friend had lied on countless occasions. “She is simply the target!”she promised, but Soren saw how Tajana looked at her on the few occasions they had been in the same room. Tajana loved Nyzaia, but deciding whether she loved Soren or her life more was up to her.
Soren barely acknowledged the guards as she entered the crowded infirmary but scolded herself afterward. She was far from winning their favour, and without an army on her side, she was powerless. Scanning the room, Soren felt the stretch of dried blood on her cheek. The wound must not be deep if it was drying already, but it would likely scar, knowing her luck. Her eyes narrowed on the halo of blonde hair near the far window.
Soren watched Sadira for a moment—the gentle movements of her hands as she bandaged the guard on the cot, her genteel smile, and regal posture—she was a perfect fit for the queen of the people.But Soren would be the queen of the realm. Sadira navigated the maze of cots, reassuring those who sobbed and begged within them. Soren froze. Over the sea of heads and bodies, she had not seen Caellum kneeling where Sadira stood. Soren had left him to the beast, knowing it would kill him. And yet, she had failed at the last hurdle, all because of her sister’s emotions.
She could not comprehend what had caused Sadira to fall for the usurper, but she saw the look in her eyes, the same look once reserved for Rodik. There was something different, though—something raw in the way Caellum returned her gaze as he accepted her hand and rose to join her side. Anger flooded Soren, and she reached them quickly. Their calm expressions changed the second they noticed her. Caellum wrapped an arm around Sadira, and Soren noticed blood on the sleeves of her dress.
Soren hesitated.When was she injured?
“We have nothing to say to you right now, Soren,” Sadira said, and Soren raised her eyebrows. After what happened, she expected the usurper to have plenty to say.
“You do not wish to make plans for the realm or the next steps to aid the people?” she asked, keeping her tone level. Caellum narrowed his eyes in disbelief. “Finding the other half of the talisman,” Soren prompted, glancing to where Caellum’s shirt fell open and exposed the wooden half of what was rightfully hers.
