Page 40 of Legacy of the Heirs
“We need some time, Soren. Allow us the evening,” Sadira said, lowering her head.
“Why?”
“Because we lost a friend,” Caellum snapped. “Becauseyougot our friend taken!” Sadira placed a hand on his arm.
“And how do you surmise that?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“If you had attacked that creature instead of allowing it to approach us, it would not have detoured for Larelle! It would not have taken her.”
“Caellum, please,” Sadira said,always the peacemaker.
“You do not know the hands of fate,” Soren sneered.
“But Iknowit could have changed the course,” Sadira replied. “She was my only friend.” Tears pooled in Sadira’s eyes, and Soren frowned as a lingering emotion tugged in the back of her mind.
“Must everything be about you?” Soren snapped. “The lord is tasked with finding her.” Soren was not one to store the names of those of no interest to her. “If he cares as much as he says he does, he will find her.”
“As we said, we can talk in the morning,” Caellum said, but he would not command Soren.
“The talisman is on Doltas Island,” Soren said bluntly, forcing the topic of conversation.
“Sadira already told me,” Caellum kept his arm protectively around her sister, and the two women locked eyes.
Sadira raised her chin. “As I said, we can talk in the morning.”
“We will need to travel immediately,” Soren continued.
“Soren!” Caellum shouted. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to their King. Soren stepped forward, reaching for the pommel of the sword. Two guards mirrored her actions from behind Caellum and Sadira, assessing her. “In themorning,” he finished.
Soren narrowed her eyes. He was not usually so bold. Sadira removed herself from Caellum’s grip and stepped towards her sister.
“Have your wound tended to, Soren, and we will speak in the morning.” Soren heard the pleading in her voice, the same tone she would use when attempting to calm her on Doltas. Soren glanced around the room; she would not win this argument if she continued to resist. Stepping back, she watched her sister with the man she wished dead and turned to head for her rooms; she had no intention of having the wound seen to.
“And Soren?” Sadira called. Soren paused by the door. “I will be moving rooms for safety.”
She read between the lines of her words. Sadira did not wish to change rooms in fear of the creatures or to move closer to Caellum.This was decided after Soren left her to die. She did not respond, nor did she turn to see the betrayal in her sister’s eyes. She simply left, as what was the loss of a sister compared to the gain of a throne?
***
She sensed the shadows before she saw them. They crawled at the corners of her mind, stroking and coaxing her to come out to play and listen to their wisdom. The same occurred every night she wished to speak tohim—the man who had told her of the prophecy at the young age of twelve before her grandmother had. That was when she first realised he cared more for her than her family did. He informed her about what he foresaw, including Soren’s part in everything and the realm she would win. The kingdom was hers if she wanted it.
The cloudiness of her vision in her dream state cleared, and the shadows receded to reveal the ruined castle that was her mind: crumbling stone with half-formed walls coated in a mesh of ivy and spiderwebs. Black smudges remained on the open gaps where the powerful shadows frequently climbed and left a stain in their wake. The castle felt like home, but Soren was unsure if it was. She stepped out of the darkness and into the streaming moonlight. Their usual place. She wondered how her body looked during her dreams and if the shadows seeping through her mind coated her body in the living world, too.
Usually, Soren welcomed them and let them lick her skin as he approached. Not tonight.
“You are angry,” his silky voice called. Soren said nothing but narrowed her eyes as his outline appeared before the cell bars. She was forbidden to approach him. “Soren, Soren, Soren,” he said as the shadows caressed her arms, coaxing her coldness to yield. “How many times must I tell you? Emotions are a weakness.”
Shadows tickled her cheeks like tendrils mimicking his fingers, attached to arms hidden in the darkness that belonged to a man she trusted so deeply despite never having seen him. When she was younger, she would beg him to drop his shield and show his face. He had come close once—a glimpse of dark stubble, a flash of scarred arms—but never since. As a child, she named him the Lord of Night when he appeared in her dreams. The name had stuck after he refused to provide his proper title, even after all these years.
A shadow licked her wound, but when she batted it away, it wrapped around her wrist and held firm.
“Are you really that self-absorbed to care about a scar?” His voice drew nearer.
“I care that I was not informed of the plan,” she snapped, turning her back on him. “I assume those creatures were your doing.”
“Does it matter if they were my doing or that of my followers?” he asked, and she supposed not. But if the idea was his, she needed to know why he had kept it from her.
“If they are to one day be my followers, then I should know.Theyshould know the creatures spilled my blood.” Shadows tugged Soren back, forcing her to turn and face their owner. “Taking the queen of Nerida will slow things.”
