“Don’t say that?—”
“Hush now. I need to get this out before I’m too tired for it.” She swallowed. Her eyes found mine, and in them I saw the weight she carried—the knowledge she’d held alone all this time. “Heliconia nearly died when she cast that curse on our people seven years ago. The drain on her power nearly ended her then and there. What she took from your father was not enough to sustain her. But she found something else to take from. To revive herself. To build this army.”
“What?” I asked, even though the word whispered through me already.
“The Ice Throne,” Lesha said, “contained the power of the gods, left behind in this realm when they were cast out of it after the Great War. Heliconia found out. And she drained it.”
Lesha squeezed my hand, desperation and urgency swimming in her murky gaze. “She cannot be allowed to claim another throne. Do you understand?”
“Because of the power in them,” I said. “The oracle hinted in Rosewood, but she was vague.”
“You saw Meerdra,” Lesha said, and there was relief in her.
I decided not to mention that I’d granted the old Verdant fae a favor. Marked myself to seal the bargain. Instead, I merely nodded and said, “She told me about my gifts. Said I was the gods’ champion, that I am to fight for Menryth.”
“Heliconia has made herself a champion now too. A contender for ruler of Menryth—a fate that will be sealed if she drinks from the other thrones.”
“What’s inside them?” I asked.
“Kernels of the gods’ power,” Lesha said softly. “The pieces of themselves the gods left behind when they agreed to the treaty between them.”
“The treaty my parents broke,” I said quietly.
“Yes. And the balance must be righted, or we will all be destroyed.”
The cavern went still. Even Slade didn’t have a quip for that.
“She wants the others,” I said slowly. “Not just Concordia. All six.”
“Five,” Eirnan corrected. “The Verdant court has no throne anymore. If the legends are to be believed.”
“Yes, but the Summer Court has two.” The two Whitestone thrones at Sevanwinds. The Harvest Throne in Grey Oak. The Onyx Throne behind the walls of Midnight. The Coral Throne Beneath the Osphanis. The Ivy Throne in Lightshore. “Each one a piece of what the gods left behind.”
“And if she gets them all,” Lesha whispered, “she won’t need armies anymore. She’ll be something else. Something the realm can’t survive.”
Lesha was right. She’d be a god herself.
My thoughts flew, unbidden, to Callan.
To the way his eyes had gone distant and wary when he’d mentioned Heliconia wanting a seat beside him on his. Wanting legitimacy. Wanting access. But mostly, wanting his throne for herself.
My fingers curled into the rough fabric of Lesha’s pallet. “Callan was right; the Harvest Throne really is her next target.”
“She’ll kill him the moment he gives her what she wants,” Keres said. “Or even if he doesn’t.”
“Not without an army,” Slade pointed out.
“She won’t need them,” I said, the shape of Heliconia’s plan snapping into place with cold clarity. “She’ll marry him. Or pretend to. Get close. Get onto that throne. And drain it from the inside out before anyone realizes what she’s done.”
“With Concordia’s stolen power backing her,” Slade said. “Clever bitch.”
Lesha’s fingers tightened weakly around mine. “You can’t let her sit on another throne, Auri. Not Autumn. Not any of them. The more she takes, the harder it will be to stop her. If you wait… there will be nothing left for you to save.”
Her words landed like stones in my gut. The weight of it all… not just my court’s curse. Not just my parents’ bargain. The whole realm. The thrones. The magic that held all of Menryth together. It was all hanging in the balance now.
“I thought all I needed was an army,” I whispered. “To break my curse. To face her on a battlefield and win.” I shook my head. “But armies won’t be enough, will they?”
“You’ll need the thrones,” Lesha said. “Or at least, you’llneed to keep them out of her hands. Meerdra told you that, didn’t she?”
