One
KYRON
Aseries of desperate acts obliterated life as I knew it. I was helpless to stop them. One selfish decision led to a tragic act of love, which spun into an unforgivable sin. The chain reaction was swift and explosive. In a matter of minutes, one queen was dead, another disgraced, and a broken kingdom was sloppily stitched together under one king. Prophecy foretold of a sovereign who would reunite Lucent and Stigian under one banner. A unifier of the people. A peacemaker. A beloved leader. What the kingdom of Pliris got was me—an unrefined ruffian wearing a gilded crown.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my finely tailored pants and stare across the sanctuary to the ostentatious statue of my mother. Beams of sunlight shine through the high arched windows, illuminating the sharp features of her slender face and half-naked body. The marble sculpture of the dead Stigian queen once depicted her as nothing short of a goddess. That was until I ordered it dismantled. Its arms have been removed, making it useless to hold the Posseda under the waterfallstreaming in through the ceiling. Not that it needs them anyway. The amplification ceremony has ended under my rule. Only those who suffer harsh withdrawals may partake in the ritual of siphoning the dormant power of Cyffreds, and only after the willing have been heavily compensated for their sacrifice. The new rule is one on the growing list of what makes me an unpopular king with many.
The end of the Stigians’ most revered tradition has caused contention between me and those who lived under my mother’s rule, but it’s no longer the damning rift amongst my people. I am.
Seventy-six days ago, I inherited a crown. It was also the day the Allaji king took what is most precious to me. Zekel didn’t so much as wait for my mother’s dead body to turn cold before he fulfilled the treaty he forged with her. It felt as if I were suspended in time as I watched him shift into his hawk form, grip Raelle in his talons, and fly away. I couldn’t do anything to stop him from taking her along with half of the Cyffreds living in Lucent.
Others say that my lack of action was the right thing to do. Raelle and the Cyffreds are the price to ensure peace between Pliris and Allaji. A good king would make the sacrifice in exchange for the safety of his people.
Fuck that.
I refuse to pretend like the lives he stole were worth it. For years, I fought and bled on a battlefield defending my belief that every person in this kingdom is valuable and deserves to be treated as such. I won’t turn my back on the Cyffreds he took. And I’ll be damned if I don’t fight until my last breath to bring them all home. But I can’t deny that one holds my utmost attention above the others.
Zekel is holding my soulmate, my heart, my parah captive, and I will stop at nothing to get her back, including thrusting Pliris into a bloody war.
A man checks the rope around the statue’s neck while another examines the knot at its torso. The thick twine weaves through a pulley system, ready to ease the monstrosity to the ground. I hated sitting in the throne underneath her shadow, knowing that the Khiros who served her wish I had died on the sanctuary’s steps instead of her.
My ascension to king was nothing more than a mishap of fate. For most of my life, I believed my destiny was to serve my people as a soldier. I didn’t know I was the nephew of the Lucent king or the son of the Stigian queen. No one raised me to rule a kingdom. I don’t follow proper protocols or have the tact to sway the members of my court. Political games were never my strong suit. I have always thrived under the pressures of war. A sword and battle strategy are what I know best. I wasn’t made to wear a crown, but my queen was. Raelle’s weapon of choice is diplomacy. I’ve witnessed it firsthand as she has rallied soldiers, earned the loyalty of her subjects, and eased her way into the most hardened of hearts. My own included.
She is the promise of warm sunlight during my raging storm. Where I’m the swift swing of a sharp blade, she is a gentle, guiding hand. I am the king Pliris was given, and she is the queen it needs. That’s why I will not stop fighting to bring her home.
The rope whines under the weight of the marble as it leans forward. Part of me wants the damn thing to break free of the restraints and smash to the ground. I would make me laugh to see it in pieces, knowing it will never be resurrected again. There’s another side of me that hates how my mother’s legacy is so terrible that I can’t leave any sign of her sins. From this day forward, the only likeness of her can be found in the cryptsbeneath the sanctuary. Queen Esmeray LeFur will be known for the darkest part of our kingdom’s history.
“Does it make you sad that you had to order them to take down the statue of your mother?”
I pry my attention away from the front of the sanctuary and look down at the tiny figure beside me. Her round cherubic face, peppered with freckles, stares up at me. Ansley Mansi has the same warm brown eyes as her sister, and the same ability to wrap me around her little finger. For only living eight short years, she’s very in tune to other’s emotions. She seems to be drawn to those who are caught in their internal battles. Her quizzical nature and blunt insight offer a brief reprieve from my heartache. It’s a moment to catch my breath before diving in again. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the Statera has gifted her with the power of a Cognus.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in lessons right now?” I ask.
Ansley’s red curls bounce when she props her small hand on her hip and challenges me with a lifted eyebrow. I can’t help but to smile. She is the epitome of Raelle—quick-witted and determined almost to a fault. The girl has even taken to dressing like her oldest sister, with leather trousers, an unlaced tunic, and a small sword secured to her hip. Of all the people who bid for my attention, I enjoy my time with her the most.
“It’s time for lunch and you didn’t come to breakfast again. Mama always says that breakfast is necessary if you’re going to have a productive day. Although, I’m not sure how productive you really have to be when these people are doing all the hard work.” She sweeps her hand in front of her, ensuring I understand how useless I’m being.
If she were anyone else, I would have dismissed her without a second thought, but I can’t ignore Ansley’s innocent truth. She unapologetically says what she means, whether it strikes a blow to my ego or not.
She tugs on the sleeve of my leather jacket. “You didn’t answer my question. Does the statue coming down make you sad?”
I shake my head and turn back to watch as the nose of my mother’s likeness touches the glossy black floor. “No, I’m not sad that it’s coming down.”
“Do you miss your mother?”
“I didn’t really know her, just the queen of Stigian, and I didn’t care much for her.”
Ansley sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s sad. All kids should have a mother they like.”
She’s right, but most children don’t have a mother who forced them to kill their father. Most mothers don’t traumatize their children and trade the woman they love to a tyrant. They care for those in their keep despite the crown. My mother didn’t give me one solid reason to respect her, let alone like her.
“I don’t like your mother either,” Ansley quietly says. “Raelle will be a better queen than her.”
“She will be.”
Ansley falls silent, watching as the people on the demolition crew remove the ropes from the toppled stone. She worries on her bottom lip as her eyes dart back and forth. I give her as much time as she needs to gather her thoughts.
“People say that Raelle isn’t a queen anymore because she lost favor with the Statera. I don’t understand how the Statera can’t like her anymore. Mama says she had an impossible choice to make, and she followed her heart. How can people think the Statera hates her because she saved your life? You’re her parah.”
