Page 120 of The Curse of Golden Blood
Zydar turned from the window, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. "Yet, she failed to see everything. Miralyte is alive. And she's the heir who should be sitting on the Sun Court throne."
The words hit me like ice water to the face.
Throne. Heir. Queen.
No. Absolutely not.
I'd watched what power did to people. Seen how it twisted them into monsters who sacrificed everything for control. Ylvena was proof enough of that. My own mother had been consumed by it, making choices that got her killed and left me an orphan.
I didn't want a crown. I wanted my sister back. I wanted a simple life where the biggest worry was what animal I’d hunt for the next day.
But that life was gone. Had been gone since the moment Ylvena decided I was useful.
"I don't want it," I said, the words coming out harder than I meant them to.
Both of them stared at me like I'd just announced I could fly to the moon.
"Miralyte—" Narietta started.
"No." I stood up, my wings spreading instinctively. "I don't want to be queen. I don't want to rule anyone. I just want Ylvena dead for what she did to my sister."
The honesty of it burned. I wasn't some noble hero ready to sacrifice myself for the greater good. I was a girl who'd lost everything and wanted revenge.
"Wanting it doesn't matter," Zydar said quietly. "You are what you are. Emystra's daughter. The last of the royal Sun Court line."
"So what? It is but blood, merely lineage." I paced to the window, needing to move, needing to burn off the restless energy that came with my new power. "It need not force me to take up my claim."
"It means she'll never stop hunting you." Narietta's voice carried the weight of prophecy. "As long as you live, you're a threat to her legitimacy. The courts might rally to the true heir."
The true heir. The words made my skin crawl.
I pressed my palms against the cold stone of the window ledge. Outside, storm clouds gathered like an army preparing for battle. The sky looked the way I felt. Dark. Violent. Ready to tear everything apart.
"What if I don't want armies rallying to me?" I asked Zydar. "What if I don't want to be queen? What if the only destiny I want is vengeance?"
I had nightmares about power. The kind that twisted the mind and poisoned the heart. Power that came with crowns and thrones and forces willing to destroy the world for the sake of ambition.
"The courts are already choosing sides," Narietta said. "War comes, whether you claim the throne or not. At least this way, you have a chance in shaping the end. Some control. ."
Control. Such a tempting word. Such a dangerous one.
I thought about all the people who would die in this war. All the families that would be torn apart the way mine had been. The innocent lives that would be sacrificed on the altar of Ylvena's ambition.
Maybe I couldn't save everyone. But maybe I could save some of them.
"If I do this," I said slowly, still staring out at the storm, "it will not be for crowns or thrones or ancient bloodlines. I am doing it because she needs to be stopped."
"That's all anyone can ask," Zydar said.
I turned back to face them. These two people who'd somehow become my anchors in a world gone mad. Narietta with her burden of terrible visions. Zydar with his centuries of war and loss.
"Then we stop her. Whatever it takes."
The storm outside responded with a crack of thunder that shook the palace walls. Lightning split the sky in brilliant fractures of silver and gold.
It felt like the world itself was choosing sides.
"Where do we start?" I asked.
