Myfatherhadfoundpieces of Barron’s armor in Stephan’s home—the man Nox killed in the dungeons and who had also spied for King Dolian. Though guards that work in the palace all have the same uniform, Barron’s was made special with an engraving that celebrated his tenure. As my brother suspected after Stephan admitted he had lured Daje and Rheaout the night of the Autumnal Ball, there was the evidence that Barron had met his end at the hands of a traitor.
When my father returned from Stephan’s house—sadness coating him after speaking with Barron’s partner—he, my mother, Nox, and I planned how we would bring this revelation to the council. The problem was, we knew thatwecouldn’t be the ones to tell them. We suspected Kallin had a rather large role in the betrayal of our family, of Rhea and Nox specifically, but none of us could say with certainty just how deep that betrayal went. And who else on the council might be involved. We sent in an anonymous tip detailing that Barron’s partner should be informed that his armor had been found and an investigation needed to be launched into a guard named Stephan.
I wondered if we were being too forward, if the council would recognize the trap before they had fallen into it. And at first, it seemed like they were going to disregard it. Kallin did not bring it to Nox during their daily meetings, and as my father and mother began spying on other members of the council—enlisting the help of friends they swore we could trust like Sarai and Cass’s father, Otto—it became apparent that they were not going to act. So we leaked the information. Well, technically Sarai and Max had done most of thewhispering. The latter was more than delighted to be further involved in the secret chaotic mess my life had devolved into. But it worked. As the information spread, so did the public outcry. Kallin wasn’t the only asshole who could weaponize their opinion.
They sent guards to Stephan’s home, and the rest unraveled from there. As expected, the council was careful about how they framed Barron’s murder and Stephan’s disappearance. On our nearly nightly convergences, not once had my parents or Nox gotten the impression that anyone on the council might be aware of what actually happened. There was relief in that, just as there was suspicion.
There were nine members of the council—Lady Moira’s absence something my mother was investigating in secret—and the only person we could assume as innocent was Hadrik. Who all was involved in this scheme with the mortal king? And to what end? For all their preaching about keeping our kingdom safe, they had given away the Mage Kingdom’s biggest weapon and their best shield in Rhea.
“You should eat, Bahira,” my father says from where he sits across the table a few days later, eyeing my untouched plate of food. “And so should you,” he adds, using his fork to point at Nox.
“Terrible manners for a king to use his utensil in that way,” Nox snarks, earning a snort from my mother.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m no longer king.” The mood in the dining room grows glum in the silence that follows.
“You should still be king.” Nox leans his elbows on the table, his fingers interlacing beneath his jaw. “You’re certainly better suited to it than I am.”
“I don’t know if you realize you insult meandyour mother with statements like that,” he counters, narrowing his eyes playfully. “After all, have we not prepared you—bothof you—to take the mantle? Are you saying we did a terrible job?”
I pinch my lips to hold back a laugh as I look at my brother, noting the way the corner of his own mouth twitches. “Sorry to humble you both,” he says, earning a chuckle from everyone.
When the laughter eases, I manage to get a few bites in, forcing my appetite to cooperate. Nox taps his fingers on his thigh, drawing my attention. His hair has grown longer, the waves curling around the nape of his neck and touching the tops of his eyebrows. A dusting of hair covers his jaw, and I realize then that I have never seen Nox with even the semblance of a beard before. He looks wan and drained, acts as if even holding the conversation is enough to fatigue him. It has worsened in theweeks following his return from trying to save Rhea, and though his attitude about getting her back is still as determined as it was the moment he woke up from his deep sleep, there is a defeat in him that slips out when he’s too tired to hide it. It’s as if he’s at war with himself—his heart desperate to reunite with Rhea, while his brain tells him that he can’t leave now. He could crawl to her, yes, and I have no doubts that he’s considered doing just that, but what would that do except get him killed? How would that helpher?
I don’t need to know the intimate details of how King Dolian’s cruel mind works to understand that if he captured Nox, his death would be long and drawn out. Likely used as a punishment for Rhea. And yet, the fear that Nox will leave still simmers beneath my skin, a silent threat that sits unspoken between us all. I wish I could get him to see that his value is more than just who or what he can be to Rhea.
“If you keep staring at me, I’m going to assume I have food on my face,” he says, turning to look at me, his chin resting on his hands. His dark green tunic is unbuttoned down to his clavicle, and from the opened space hangs a chain holding a gold ring, its gems glimmering when it catches the light of the spelled flames. His hand wraps around it, and when I lift my gaze to his, the faintest smile curls his lips. “It’s hers,” he says, full of reverence. “And I’ll return it to her when I see her again.”
“I have no doubt.”
His dark eyes roam mine, the silver I’m so used to seeing in them hardly visible when he nods and turns to look at our parents. “It’s time I tell you something about Rhea,” he says slowly, leaning against the back of the chair and wincing.
“And what is that?” our mother asks, lifting her chalice of water to her mouth. My own brows draw together until I remember that there is a fairly large secret that Nox and I know that our parents do not.
“Rhea did her Flame Ceremony before the ball, and her flame—”
“Was blue?” my father interrupts, a dark brow lifted in question. And knowing.
My eyes widen as they dance back and forth between my brother and our parents, their amusement only confusing me more.
“You knew?” Nox asks.
My father nods, wrapping his hand over our mother’s where it’s resting on the table. “We suspected when we first felt her signature, when the entire palace did while she was in her deep sleep after your arrival.”
“We knew it for sure when you joined us for that first meal and we gave her the dragon stone necklace,” my mother adds, her head tilted to the side while her curls—twin to my own—drape over her shoulder.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, seeing Nox’s nod at my question from the corner of my eye.
My father looks to my mother, his smile soft as he signals for her to answer. She lets out a small puff of air, tracing her finger over the rim of her chalice as she answers. “Two hundred years is a long time for information to get distorted. For history to be reshaped.” Nox and I glance at each other, our shared looks of concern making our father chuckle. “But though those in power might want certain facts altered, or erased all together, there is something that none of their machinations can take away—personal experience. As you both know, my father’s business was in perfumery, and there was a particular farm to the north of Galdr where he liked to get his florals from. He touted them as the best of the best, the flowers so beautifully pungent that you could often catch a whiff of them from miles away if the wind was blowing just right.” Her eyes grow unfocused as she talks, as if she is more present in the memories than she is here with us.“Occasionally, my mother and I would tag along on his trips to the farm, as my mother had befriended the farmer’s wife. They had a little girl who was the same age as me, and she and I would play while the adults talked business.
“They lived on a beautiful property, the space lush with banya and pirang trees, their trunks so wonderfully tangled together that in some parts, it was impossible to pass through. For hours, she and I would play. Climbing trees and pretending to be adventurers.” She smiles, and my father squeezes her hand. “I saw her every year. As we grew older, our conversations switched from that of make-believe to more fun topics like love and boys and how our fathers were both so strict.” Nox huffs out a laugh, my own grin wide. “But on the last year that I saw her, she had been withdrawn. Sullen. Normally, our conversations picked up right where they had left off, as if no time had gone by, but this year… This year, she did not have the same light in her eyes that I had come to know. I pleaded with her to tell me what was wrong, a friend beseeching another to trust and let her in. But she said she couldn’t, that she had promised her parents she would not speak a word of what was going on. So I did what any idiot teenager does when turned away: I stormed off, muttering curses under my breath.”
My mother swallows, her gaze refocusing as she drops it back to us. To Nox.
“That was the last time I ever saw her. Shortly after, she disappeared. I tell you both this, but you especially, Nox, because I remembered something about my friend the first time I ever saw Rhea.” Nox adjusts in his seat, his eyes locked on hers. “On one visit, she and I were talking about anything and everything, as children do, and I made a comment about the color of her eyes. They were a lovely shade, one I had never seen another mage have. She told me that her mama had them but not her grandmother. That, in her family, sometimes, thewomen have eyes like hers. Sometimes, they have a certain color of hair. Sometimes, they get both, and it was because of the special magic they had. It was then she told me that she was scared to do her Flame Ceremony. That a man named Kallin from the king’s council had come to their house to inquire why she hadn’t done it yet.”
I think back to the few glimpses I had ever seen of Rhea and compare the memory of her to the details I had been given by Siyala. Green eyes certainly weren’t a common trait among mages. I chance a glance at Nox, and I’m not sure he is breathing as he leans forward, a look on his face I can’t exactly pinpoint. “What was her name?” he rasps.
“Stellaluna to most. Occasionally, her mother also called her by her middle name, and to some, she was simply Luna.”
