Page 4 of Legacy of the Heirs
Ready to burn.
The prophecy had only created more questions.From fire and ice, the King and Queen must hide; secrets of the past, the heirs must find.
Nyzaia suspected Soren was involved. The fallen Queen of Doltas Island—and the true heir to the Garridon throne, as she so proudly claimed—had made targeted comments about Isha, leaving Nyzaia with more questions than answers. Had Soren orderedIsha to come to Keres? Had Soren orchestrated the explosions to retake the Garridon throne somehow, with the deaths of the other families as mere collateral?
A visit to Myara may help.Keres’ port settlement was the destination for all small boats coming from Doltas Island. Nyzaia had not informed the other rulers, but Soren and Sadira were not the first people Nyzaia had encountered from Doltas Island. The Red Stones had been providing the exiles with resources for several years in exchange for a hiding place in case they ever needed one. Perhaps visiting the port could offer Nyzaia the answers she needed.
Nyzaia scanned the mosaic floor, where a flurry of colours moved to the music. She was so encompassed by her thoughts she had not realised Kazaar and Elisara had finished dancing and left the room. She smiled. They deserved happiness. She hoped they had given into the tension that clearly fizzled between them and found one of the many quiet alcoves.
She glanced back at Tajana, but her love’s brow was furrowed, frowning at the sconces along the wall. Flashes of white light punctuated the orange flames, raining light sparks onto the tiles below before fading. Nyzaia stepped forward, eyebrows raised. She had seen nothing like it before. Flames in Keres only ever burned orange.
People backed away upon noticing the unusual sight. Nyzaia waved her hand, trying to tame the anomaly, but the flames did not obey. She flourished her hand again. Nothing.
A chill rushed through the hall, and the music stopped, the revellers’ murmurs swallowing the silence. Nyzaia moved to the nearest window, expecting a splattering of pink and orange as dusk neared. Instead, the deep, ominous night loomed in greeting, scattered by stars that peered intently at whatever was unravelling upon the realm. The glow of the white flames was the only light in the room, flaring brighter with every passing minute. The revellers pulled closer until they huddled in the hall’s centre, as far from theflames as possible, as sparks burst across the room.
“Evil!” someone shouted. “There is evil power here!”
Another screamed.
Nyzaia remained rooted in place as her queen’s guard moved into action. Across the room, Tajana scanned their surroundings while Farid moved to stand beside his queen. Isaam and Jabir circled the hall as Rafik approached the screaming woman—a Keres native, who clutched her bare arm. Tentatively, Rafik removed her hand. Gasps rang out from those closest at the glowing mark across the woman’s brown skin.
Nyzaia stepped forward to investigate but halted before the sconces. It was not the flames that intrigued her; it was what gathered below every flame along the wall. Shadows. Shadows from the sconces, tables, and guards moved, swallowing all light and casting darkness in its wake. At first, Nyzaia thought she imagined it, but as the shadows crawled along the floor, she looked to Farid for confirmation he saw them, too. His bright blue eyes shone back at her before he stared again at the shadows and narrowed his gaze.
The movement of the shadows increased as if eager to meet their maker. Nyzaia flourished a hand one last time to see if she could dim the flames, but still, nothing happened. The shadows no longer flooded the floor, they crept up to engulf the walls instead. Nyzaia stepped back, and Farid gripped her arm.
“Who is doing this?” a female citizen shouted.
The shadows lifted slowly from the walls, and tendrils twisted into ropes of darkness, encompassing the bright flame. It was as though a puppet master controlled and pulled at the strings, suffocating all light.
Nyzaia had never witnessed such a thing. Light bathed the room once more before she could comprehend anything further, and the sconces returned to their natural orange hue. Nyzaia immediately sought Tajana and her syndicate. Issam, Jabir, and Rafik calmed the crowd. Farid stood rigid beside her, his hand poised on the pommel of his sword. Tajana was deep in conversation with twoguards by the archway leading to the hallway near Nyzaia’s father’s office. She assessed Tajana’s movements as she leaned forward and spoke intently to the two men—the furrow of her brow and the crossing of her arms. One spoke rapidly while the other stood pale by his side. The second the guard stopped speaking, Tajana whirled and ran to Nyzaia.
“It’s Kazaar; he needs help!”
Nyzaia hastily followed Tajana down the corridor and up the winding staircase, unsure where they were headed. She was reminded of what she had told Tajana while awaiting Elisara and Kazaar’s arrival—her concerns about Elisara’s power and experiences in Keres. Had something happened? Had Elisara accidentally harmed Kazaar?
Nyzaia realised where they were going when Tajana turned down the hallway on the top floor. They headed to a room where Nyzaia had spent most of her childhood: Kazaar’s chambers, her true brother. His chambers sat at the opposite end of the wing to her brothers, and while it was the most modest room, it had the best view of Keres, or so Kazaar said. Tajana did not knock as they approached but shoved the door open with a hurried force. Farid quickly sidestepped Nyzaia and surveyed the room before allowing her through. Nothing had prepared her for this.
On the large, low bed smothered in crimson silk sheets, matching the colour of her dress, lay Queen Elisara of Vala. Her dark locks appeared perfectly positioned past her shoulders; one hand rested on her stomach, while Kazaar gripped the other. He did not look up when they walked in, focusing only on Elisara’s pale complexion and fluttering eyelids as though she was dreaming intensely. Hunched over on the small wooden chair, Kazaar wore a look of defeat as he traced small circles with his thumb across her hand. Moonlight streamed in through the balcony, painting the pair in a picture of silver against the darkness.
“What did the guards say?” Nyzaia spoke in a hushed tone, leaning into Tajana.
“That Kazaar was frantic and approached them while cradling the queen. He ordered them to find you and have you brought to his chambers.” Tajana glanced at the pair bathed in light. “And that he would personally kill them if you weren’t here in five minutes.”
Nyzaia rolled her eyes at the dramatics yet pondered over the fact there were very few people Kazaar would kill for. Standing beside her brother, Nyzaia placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He did not move.
“Kazaar,” she whispered.
His shoulders slowly rose and fell as she maneuvered around the bed and knelt before him on the opposite side; her heart twinged as his gaze flickered to hers. He clenched his jaw as tears stained his face. The man who has been known as the breaker of men was broken.
“Leave us, please,” Nyzaia said, her eyes locked on Kazaar as Farid’s footsteps reluctantly left the room. Her heart ached for her brother. “You too, Tajana.” She glanced at her love by the door, who opened her mouth to protest. “Now. Please.”
Tajana closed her mouth and swiftly left the room.
When the door closed, Kazaar’s shoulders collapsed, and a strangled sound escaped him. He released one hand from Elisara’s and wiped his face while Nyzaia scanned his body for any bruising or cuts—any sign that showed Elisara and Kazaar had fought. Nothing.Perhaps they had fought with their powers instead?She trailed her eyes across Elisara’s dress for any sign it had blackened beneath Kazaar’s flames but found nothing. Had Nyzaia detected any of those things, she would have scolded Kazaar for fighting with a queen. But her stomach twisted at the weight of the unknown. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, we were arguing, and…” Kazaar moved to stroke Elisara’s hair with a tenderness Nyzaia had never witnessed. The pair had been on better terms as of late—and the sexual tension between the two was undeniable—but the emotion pouring from the man before her was far more than that. Something else had happened for him to be so distraught.
“I cannot help you unless I know everything,” Nyzaia whispered, resting her clasped hands on the silk sheets.
