Chapter One
Kyella
The brisk morning air swept over my skin in a gentle caress as I stood on the balcony off Myrin's private study. Something about the featherlight embrace of the air empowered me, as if the land itself was telling me it supported me. Tilting my head back, I held my arms out, welcoming the breeze.
The first golden rays of the rising sun peeked above the horizon over the ocean, glinting off a patch of the cerulean water and warming the air ever so slightly with each passing minute. It signaled a new day, and with it, my first day as an Empress who must lead an empire into war. Taking a deep breath of the salty air, I closed my eyes and listened to the steady beat of my heart, each thump a reminder that this was a gift: to see another day, to live, and to fight for the future.
The dawn of a new era was upon us, and I would be damned if I didn’t look fate in the eye and tell her to give me whatever she had. I wouldn’t back down.
Dropping my arms to rest at my sides, I lowered my face and stared at the rows of buildings stretching beneath me. A sense of calm enveloped me as the city began to light up beneath the rays of the golden sunshine washing over it.
“I will uphold my vow to you all. We will be victorious,” I whispered, hoping the wind would carry the power of my words to all the ears within these lands.
I hoped as they awoke they didn’t feel hopeless from the loss of Myrin—I hoped they would allow me the time to earn their respect and prove that I meant every single word I’d shared with them the night before. Today, I’d place one foot in front of the other, even if I trembled, because there was no other choice. I had to be a constant pillar of strength for them, much like the sun was to me today.
As my hand darted up to trace the thin gold chain of my necklace, I thought back to Myrin’s words about the golden charm of the flower—the Evathrina—that lay in the center of my chest. She said someone must have gifted the necklace to my mother—someone who knew what I was or what was to come.
I’d refused my three vampyres’ requests to come to bed after the ceremony concluded last night, knowing I needed to learn as much as I could about the two kingdoms’ histories and my own, so that I didn’t feel so in the dark. My brain refused to answer the tempting call of sleep. Instead, the incessant feeling that I was missing important details that could change the tide of this war pressed upon me.
Glancing back into the room, I couldn’t help the half curve up of my lips at the sight of my three vampyres sleeping, scattered throughout the room on chairs and the couch, surrounding the table of journals we’d poured over all night. Myrin had kept detailed entries of her time as Empress and the mistakes she’d made along the way, with what she wished she would have done instead as well. She’d been the image of poise and confidence to us, yet the pages revealed a woman struggling to feel like she’d done enough each night when she laid her head down to sleep. While I hated that she ever doubted herself, I couldn’t deny that it brought some semblance of peace to me, knowing that it was okay that I was struggling in the same way.
There was one passage that soothed my soul.
I’ve come to realize that it is not weak of me to doubt myself. If anything, it shows my strength and my love for my people, to never be complacent in my role and to always strive to want to do better—to be better, for them. I would be appalled if one day I woke up thinking that I knew it all, for that is a stepping stone to the downfall of an empire. Conceit and arrogance have no place in the mind of a true ruler, so I will feel the flutters of uncertainty in my stomach every day with pride.
Reading her words only served as a reminder that I would no longer hear them aloud. I’d be a liar if I said the streaks of water that splattered against the pages, smearing the ink, weren’t my own tears.
Good morning, Empress.
Barnabus’ polite and regal voice washed through my mind, bringing my attention back to the railing I found him perched upon. While reading Myrin’s journals, he’d crossed my mind many times. Nothing on the pages revealed who or what he was any further than what he’d told me last night, leaving me with more questions than I’d had prior.
Reaching back, I closed the French doors to provide a sound barrier between the sleeping lords and us. I didn’t want to wake them, and after admitting they’d heard me talking to myself last night, it probably wouldn’t take much for them to realize there was more to that matter. I knew that I couldn’t keep my connection with Barnabus a secret for long—nor did I want to have secrets from them—but I needed answers from him before I was able to inform them of anything. As of right now, I wouldn’t be able to explain much.
It was startling how little I knew of the strange bat that seemed to wield a power no animal should possess. A part of me was shocked and wrapped in my own grief when he’d come to me last night, so I’d taken most of what he told me at face value.
Dipping my head in greeting, I murmured, “Good morning, Barnabus. I’m glad you are here. Throughout the night, I began to read Myrin's old journals, hoping to glean more information on your connection to her for me to understand our own. However, I found nothing of use.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but I wouldn’t be so foolish as to blindly listen to a being that no one could vouch for. How could I possibly trust the validity of his words being controlled by Malakai for so long.
His black eyes ran the length of me before his little head bobbed, satisfied with whatever he saw.
Ask your questions, young one.
Taking a few steps forward, I rested my hands upon the stone railing and looked over the city with him, trying to figure out how to word my questions without offending him.
I wasn’t sure what magic allowed Barnabus to speak to me, let alone choose the next Empress, but it was clear that a power like that could be used for either good or evil. I needed to be sure which side he was on. If Myrin was truly the only who could speak with him, he would need to build the same rapport with me now. I could no longer afford to be naive about any subject pertaining to this world.
“I owe it to these people to be guarded and trust no one until it has been earned, but I also recognize that you seem to have their best interests at heart as well,” I said slowly before glancing at the bat out of the corner of my eye, catching his eerily intense stare. “I need to know what andwhoyou are, Barnabus, because it’s obvious that you are not simply a bat. I’m sorry if I offend you with my suspicions, but I no longer have the time to beat around the bush or turn a blind eye.”
My fingers tightened around the stone, and I held my breath in anticipation, bracing for whatever he might say in return. A large part of me assumed he would lash out at me for being an insufferable child given that he often acted as my elder. I did not wish to argue or lose him as an ally, if that is what he was. All I could do was hope that he respected where I was coming from.
For a moment, the silence that stretched between made me think he might refuse to answer me and take off instead. Just as I turned and opened my mouth, he responded.
Normally, I would never divulge this information to you this soon, but we do not have the luxury of time. We must trust each other. What do you know of the old vampyre gods?
Letting out a soft sigh, I shook my head lightly, feeling lost. “Not much. Malakai did not wish for his people to know of beings that were stronger than him. Elijah was the one to bring them up to me. He said that the old gods were all very different. Some were driven by the light and others by darkness, and that they most likely had a hand in choosing the initial leaders of the two empires.”
As the final words tumbled out of my mouth, I immediately sucked in a sharp breath.A hand in choosing the leaders…
