Like keys,he thought.
Keys to unlock Lordach’s salvation.
There was never any true sunlight in Augaurde, but if there had been...
Arawn imagined how this entire room would havesparkledwhen it shone through those towering, sword-shaped windows.
Because the rest of the space, from the elegantly stamped floor to the spiraling pillars that lined the edges of the room, wasmade of pure gold. True gold, the kind that could have funded armies and kingdoms.
“Come,” his mother commanded.
Arawn flinched. He’d forgotten she was even there.
He followed her as they crossed the shimmering floors, all the way to the opposite end of the room. At first, he was eager with anticipation. But the closer he got to the archway...
The stranger he felt inside.
Each step, his heart raced a bit faster.
His skin felt warmer, until there were beads of sweat glowing on his forehead. Until he thought he might be sick from the sheerfeeling ofpowerthat emanated from that strange archway and its glowing light. He wanted to take off his cloak, if only to get a bit of cooler air upon his skin.
He wanted to stop walking entirely, because deep in his belly, in his very soul...
Arawn Laroux wasafraid.
“My King,” his mother said, bowing only to Draybor first, as they stopped before the arch.
And then she knelt before the archway itself, her head lowered in reverence. As if it were a true, living thing.
Arawn did the same, dropping to a knee before his father’s eyes could narrow upon him. But he didn’t dare look at the archway. Didn’t dare edge any closer to it, for now he truly thought he might vomit.
It was powerful.
So powerful he wanted to back away, but then his father’s voice latched onto him.
“Crown Prince,” Draybor said.
“Father,” Arawn said, until his mothertskedin warning, and he corrected himself. “King.”
He dared look up at him.
Draybor wore the Sacred Diadem today, a crown that rarely left this throne room. Arawn had never seen it before, but of course he’d studied depictions of it in his lessons, as every Sacred youngling had.
It was one of Lordach’s most treasured relics, and no one knew what ittrulylooked like, what its real form was, for it always mimicked the magic of the wearer. On his father’s head, it was formed oftrueflames, even all the way to the delicate points around its top. A magicked wind seemed to stoke those flames, causing each one of them to dance, a symbol of his father’s double-pillared power.
The Sacred Diadem waslovely.
For a moment, Arawn wondered what it would look like when it was onhishead someday. What sort of magic would form the many sharp points? Would he wield wind, or water, fire or Ehver or realm?
“Today, you are five,” the King said. “It is your Year of the Gods,Crown Prince, and so it is time you learn of the day you will become King.”
Arawn nodded.
He’d always wondered how he would be crowned. But when he asked, his mother only said,not until it’s time, Arawn.
But now that itwastime...he suddenly wanted to turn to her for comfort. But she’d left his side. She stood with the Masters, now. The air was cold and empty at his back.
He longed, suddenly, for Kinlear.
