Page 21 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
The library is set back a few feet from the main road, a small gray stone pathway lined with varying flowers and bushes guides the way to a large set of arched double doors. A giant yellow galanthus flower permanently blooms at the pinnacle of the arch, the long skinny petals delicately flared open. The wooden door creaks as I pull on it, the familiar aged smell of old paper and leather hitting my nose immediately upon entering. I exhale as I walk in, feeling more calm now than I had since leaving Max’s. Memories of all the time I spent here over the years play in my mind. At first, it was to escape all the whispers about how I had no magic, but eventually, I came to crave the exploration and discovery of the knowledge that lines the shelves in this place. The silence found here was an added bonus.
I walk past the front desk where Elisha, an older mage who runs this place, sits. She smiles warmly when she sees me, the gray-blonde hair pinned to the top of her head bobbing as she dips her chin in hello. The first floor has the same white stone as the outside. It lines the walls and ground, though the floor is covered by rugs of dark red and blue that are spread out to muffle the sound of shoes clicking on the hard surface. Dark wooden tables and chairs are placed throughout, and lining the walls in all directions are shelves upon shelves of books. A wooden staircase in the back leads up to the second floor, the middle of which is open to the main level below. A railed walkway wraps all the way around and houses even more books on ancient wood shelves. Windows on both the first and second floors let in whatever light sneaks past the treetops. Spelled flames in glass bowls help make up the difference so that the entire library is cast in a decadent glow. Besides the ruffling sound of pages being turned and a few muffled footsteps, it is expectedly and pleasantly silent. I feel like I can finally take a deep breath here.
After gathering several books from the Magic section, a few that are familiar and some I haven’t read yet, I take a seat at a table closest to the bookcases. Sliding a tome to me, the leather crackles as I open it and begin to read the yellowed pages. Anyone in the realm is welcome to check books out, but they are spelled to make sure that they aren’t destroyed—accidentally or otherwise.
I’m not sure how much time passes when a familiar female voice says my name.
“Bahira with her nose in a book—that’s a sight that will never get old.” My mother heads towards me, her gait more like a waltz with the natural grace of her movements. She stops beside me, her hands immediately moving to fuss with my hair. While Nox takes after our father with his wavier black hair, angular jaw, and lightly tan skin, I mirror our mother. Like her, I have wild and unruly dark brown curls; my skin is more tan than Nox’s and my jaw softer. The only trait that our entire family shares is the dark gray of our eyes, signifying that our line has only ever been that of mage blood.
When the realms were easily traversed before the war, it was rare—though not uncommon—to marry someone from a different realm. After the Spell was put into place, however, that changed. I had heard rumors that beings who were of mixed blood may have been sent to a different kingdom than where they were living when the Spell was cast. It all depended on what magic they had, or I suppose, didn’t have.
My mother gently tugs on my hair, drawing my attention back to her. “Where did you go, my rose?”
I smile at her term of endearment. It is both her favorite flower and my middle name. “Just contemplating the usual,” I answer in a hushed voice, gesturing to the books in front of me.
She smiles, but it doesn’t hide the concern lining her features. I start moving to clean up the books, hoping to avoid a conversation I’d rather not have at the moment. When the books are put back in their place—no helpful information gained on this trip—I walk with my mother outside, waving a small goodbye to Elisha. I’m shocked to realize the sun has already set, darkness concealing the forest. Spelled flames illuminate the path as my mother and I start our walk back to the palace. My hands rub the sides of my arms as the still-cool spring night air blankets us.
“You know that you are not any less mage because you do not have magic,” my mother affirms in the silence, her hand reaching out to squeeze my arm gently. “Your soul, your very essence—you—are what our people are made of. Magic is secondary to the person who wields it.” Her voice is dulcet, her words holding her conviction.
A knot of emotion tightens in my throat before I clear it, dropping my hands to my sides as I sigh. “I know I have magic, Mother,” I say, looking up at what I can see of the night sky. “There is no reason I shouldn’t. Not only do I have pure mage blood in my veins, but I also have two of the most powerful magic wielders as my parents. It does not make sense that I was randomly selected to be punished by not having a gift when Nox was blessed with the most magic we’ve seen in well over a century.” The cadence of my voice changes as my frustration bleeds through.
“It is not a punishment,” she counters, tugging on my arm to stop our walk as she turns towards me. Her gray eyes are filled with the kind of unconditional acceptance and love I fear will only ever come from a parent. “You must believe that the gods did not single you out—”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense!” I yell, cutting her off and stepping out of her hold. My mothers eyes widen at my outburst, her mouth dropping open slightly. She tries to step closer, but my hands go up defensively. I wish she understood—I wish anyone else understood why what I’m doing is so important to me. I fight back the tears welling in my eyes as I force a deep breath into my tightened chest. “Imagine how incomplete I feel in my own family,” I whisper, laying my insecurities bare at her feet. “I just—” I hesitate, my gaze lifting from hers and back to the night sky. “I just want to be whole.”
Chapter Twelve: Rhea
Ispendthenightcradling Alexi’s head in my lap and gently brushing my fingers through his hair. I’ve lost feeling in my legs and feet from how I’m kneeling. Though in truth, I’ve lost much more than that. Bella lays on the opposite side of the room, avoiding the pool of blood that eventually stopped spreading out over the wood floors. The thought should make my stomach turn, but I don’t feel anything at all. My body, my mind, my emotions—they all shut down. I’m hollow as I repeat the same two words in my mind—he’s gone.
My shaky fingers then trace along his jaw, the skin there colder than it had been earlier. A small part of me is glad that Alanna is also no longer here in this world. I picture them now in the Afterlife, holding hands and reliving their most fond memories together. The thought is almost enough to bring a semblance of a smile to my face. My head throbs as my swollen eyes take in every detail of Alexi’s face, committing it to memory. When the sun begins to rise, the sky glowing a deep orange that floods through the balcony glass doors, I hear footsteps on the stairs outside. Bella quickly makes her way up the stairs on her own, which is good because I’m not sure I can talk right now anyway. The door to my tower opens, and I know it’s the guards here to take him away. I keep my gaze on Alexi, not ready to let him go. My fingers curl tightly into my palms as I fight to keep my breathing controlled. They don’t deserve to touch him.
“We are here to take the body,” a guard states, his voice callous. This is just a job to him—to them all. They don’tcarethat the one person I had in this world is gone. And it’s all my fault.
“No,” I rasp out, the sound like stone scraping against stone.
“Move out of—”
“No!” I scream again, leaning further over Alexi. I hear sighs, even some groans of annoyance, as if none of them can understand why I won’t let them take him. I don’t know why either. I don’t want to have to look at his dead body and be reminded of how my existence is now irrevocably changed. Yet I can’t let him go. I can’t let this be the last time that I see him.I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
“He’s dead,” a deep voice says, his boots stepping into my line of sight. “Holding his body hostage won’t bring him back.” My head tilts up to look at the guard, who I immediately recognize as the one that held Alexi as the king buried his sword into his back. My lips lift in a snarl, a near growl barreling out of me. “Let go,” he commands, completely unaffected by my anguish and grief.
Somehow, more tears well in my eyes and slide down my face, like sand falling in an hourglass. I know I have to let him go. I just wish it didn’t feel so wrong. Leaning down, I give Alexi’s forehead one last kiss, tears dripping onto his face, as I whisper my promise to him, remembering his last words.This is not where your journey ends. Promise me.So I do. I promise him that I will escape this tower. No matter what it takes.
The process of carefully removing his head from my lap is slow. Within a few moments, he is gone. Just… gone.
Blood is everywhere. It’s caked on my hands and soaked into my nightdress. It surrounds me from where it’s pooled out in the living room.
“We will have the maids come in to take care of the blood and clean you, on the king’s orders. If you give them trouble, he will come here personally.” There is no sympathy or concern in the guard’s voice. It’s spoken matter-of-factly, as if this was the only outcome one could have expected.
My eyes shift up to look at him. He stares back down, cold and unyielding. His tan hand rests on the hilt of his sword, while his long, wavy black hair is pulled back from his face. He may not have driven that sword through Alexi himself, but he held Alexi’s body still so the king could. When it’s clear I’m not going to answer him, the guard huffs a breath and walks to the door, his steps leaving bloody footprints the entire way.
Not long after, the maids appear. When they step into the room, one of them lets out a low curse under her breath before silence descends again, only broken by the clamoring of buckets and mops hitting the floor. I can sense their stares as two maids walk over to me, holding out their hands to help me up. Keeping my head down, I place my hands in theirs and slowly get my feet underneath me, pushing up to stand between them. I wonder what the maids are thinking as they work to clean what remains of Alexi off the floors and walls. Were they told what happened here? My legs nearly give out with each step as circulation slowly moves back to my feet, causing a painful burning sensation to work its way down to them. The maids holding me up are patient, not uttering a single word as I take slow, awkward steps. They move in tandem with me, letting me set the pace as we go. I know my body is moving, and I know my heart is beating. It’s all I can hear. Everything else is drowned out in a buzzing haze. When we reach the washroom, one of the maids lets my hand go and starts the bath.
“Do you have any oils you would like us to add?” she asks, her voice somehow reaching me through my daze. I shake my head in response, still not looking up at them. There is a pause before the other maid lets go of my hand and moves to step in front of me. “We have to undress you for the bath, My Lady.”
I nod, not waiting for them to help me as I reach for the strap of my night dress. This is the first time since I was a very small child that I have had other people present while I bathed. Maids helped until I was about eight, then they suddenly stopped showing up. I was older when I figured out it was on the order of my uncle. My trembling hand wavers as my gaze finally lifts to look at the maid in front of me. She studies me, taking in my hesitation before realization hits, and her eyes soften.
“We take care of the ladies of the court. You needn’t worry about us seeing you in this state, My Lady,” she says quietly. After a few moments, I take off the dress and my undergarments and step into the bath. Misty heat curls above the water, signaling its warm temperature, but I don’t feel anything. Sinking down, my legs extend out in front of me as my hands grip the edges of the tub. “I am going to have to wash your body first; then we’ll put fresh water in and move on to your hair.” Her voice is firm but not unkind.
