“I ampicking, Father. I am choosing who I want in my life. Who I want to Rule my House, and my Petal.”
With her palm open, she drew a straight line in the air, Harming her father as she traced a neat, shallow cut on the upper side of her father’s shirt, leaving his neck exposed.
Jasper Brachyan opened his mouth again, but before he could swear, roar, or beg, Ayla Harmed him again. An inhuman noise left his throat when his cut tongue fell on the marble floor.
“I hope you appreciate howselectiveI'm being, Father. This is me getting rid of the scraps of society.”
The next thing Ayla cut off was his head, a louder thump echoing in the room as her mother fell to her knees and gasped, covering her mouth with both hands, her whole body shaking as she stared at her daughter with something that Nina could only describe as absolute terror.
A panomquake followed as the magic of the North Petal realigned. Rubble fell from the corners of the room, the ground shook vigorously, and Ayla stood stoically, waiting patiently for Thyria to recover from the change in events.
When the island stopped shaking a few seconds later, Ayla carefully walked over the head of her father, went back to Nina, and held her hand. Ayla didn’t even speak to or acknowledge her mother, who by now had paled as much as her dead father.
With a sigh, Ayla lifted their interlaced fingers to her mouth and placed a gentle kiss on Nina's skin. “I guess I'm no longer the heir.”
Nina grinned, tears filling her eyes as the biggest pride and something stronger filled every part of her being, of her soul, of her blood, and her every organ.
“And what a strong Ruler you will be.”
22
Hope
The shaking ground on the South Petal lasted long enough for Hope and Ciaran to exchange a questioning look, and for Hope’s adrenaline and problem-solving mode to kick in before the panomquake even stopped.
The panomquake finally ceased, and a quick inspection from the white balcony they stood on confirmed it hadn’t been the end of the world. A dozen broken trees whose trunks hadn’t been stable and firm enough. A huge couch that had somehow flown out of a room and had ended up in one of the serene garden pools, now bobbing ferociously on turbulent waters. It had fallenon top of a very shouty man who was being aided by way too many people with way too little success.
Hope lifted her hand to the rail of the balcony, ready to close it and Take the couch or the water away and the man from his misery, but Ciaran’s metallic hand made her stop.
“Not a good idea, kind soul,” he said.
“He is going to drown before they figure out anything remotely similar to a plan.” She furrowed her brow when she saw the sudden and stupid idea of someone down below come to fruition, sending the man, and the couch, falling even deeper inside the pool. “We will not let an unlucky being die at the hands of such…efficient and skilled others.” It wasn’t a question, and the glimpse in Ciaran’s blue eyes knew it.
“Of course not. But if you want not to be noticed here, making a big complication disappear in the faces of five men and four women isn’t the best way.”
Hope pursed her lips. “At this pace, only four men and four women would remember, anyway.”
They were too far to go down physically and help with strength and tactics. They wouldn’t make it in time for the man to still have some oxygen in his brain, and they most definitely didn’t have time to convince the two masterminds who were leading the rescue catastrophe to cede their leadership to Ciaran and her. It was a never-answered uncertainty of humanity how incompetent beings more often than not ended up leading masses. It was no surprise that many times they led them to irreversible calamities and disasters.
As the seconds ticked by, and the man became still and paler, there was no doubt this was going to end only one way.
“Breeze and watercourse, then,” she sighed, and Hope opened her hands.
With one hand, she Gave a sudden, focused breeze that made the two self-acclaimed leaders and their six helpers cover theirfaces and ears to protect themselves from the noise and the impact.
“That’s a miniature hurricane, bloodrose,” Ciaran said, observing calmly with his arms crossed and the corner of his lips tugged upwards.
With her other hand, she Gave a watercourse strong enough to push the couch a few inches to the side. The water was shaky and wavy since the panomquake, and with such a sudden breeze, no one truly focused on why this particular force had moved the furniture eight people hadn’t been able to. Weren’t the wonders of nature magical?
The man was free, but the people helping him were now too focused on their own survival to remember to help the one drowning underneath them. “Seriously?” Hope asked. She had already stopped the breeze, so there was no need for them to continue making a fuss. There was a significant need, though, for them to move their asses.
“For Llunal’s fucking sake,” Ciaran swore. He swirled his hand, and extremely fast shadows wrapped around the black swimsuit of the man, pulling him upwards until his head was outside the water. His loud gasp made the people look at him and finally do something useful and help him swim to the side of the pool, where he laid down, grabbing his parts with both hands.
“Excuse me,” Hope said, turning to look at him with a smile. “Did you squeeze your shadows too much?”
He shrugged. “Better to have your balls squeezed and sore than your blood cold.”
She chuckled. “Said the courtrade with cold blood.”
