Power takes many shapes. Some would say power is the order of ruling a kingdom. Others say it’s the chaos of disruption.
— ALARIC SARE’S PAPERS FOR EMBERLINE ARKOVA
Charon and I sat on the balcony until exhaustion sent me crawling toward the bed. Hart hadn’t returned to the bedroom, but I knew he paced in the main room. The constant shift between the cool minty flavor on my throat and the peppery heat of too-spicy meat alerted me to the changes in his emotions. I dismissed any thoughts of what it meant to feel such things—to know inherently that they were his.
We’d find a way to break this curse—this connection—soon.
Sleeptook me, and the images of the throne room found their way in. The white marble floor, the raised dais where Rodric sat, then Themis snapping Alaric’s neck with no more care than if she’d stepped on a twig.
I screamed and thrashed and tore to get to my uncle. Anything to prove it wasn’t too late. I’d move faster, fight harder … anything.
My eyes snapped open to Hart’s careful gaze. He stood in the doorway with his sword in hand. Cataloging the room, he seemed to realize there was no physical threat. Still, he hesitated.
The moment hung between us, filled with impossibilities.
He could come to me. He could hold me and tell me everything would be fine. The comfort could help me loose the tears I desperately fought from streaming down my face.
No.
I didn’t want him. I didn’t want any of that.
“I’m fine,” I said, sitting up and placing my feet on the solid stone floor.
His snort was audible, but he returned to the main room and closed the door behind him.
The sun barely peeked over the horizon, but I was no stranger to early morning. I wandered to the balcony to find Charon. He slept curled, his snout tucked in by his tail. The circular shape reminded me of a doknot, my favorite cake treat from the Selection Festival vendors. Had it been only twelve days ago that I’d been excited to have one?
Charon’s golden eyes blinked to life as I opened the glass door to the balcony. He unfurled slowly, stretching his neck and legs.
“I dreamed of Alaric again,” I said.
Charon grunted in acknowledgement that we called reliving Alaric’s deathdreaming about him.
“Were you responsible for the youngleaf?”
He blinked and tilted his head.“An interesting question. Alaric used the youngleaf to protect himself and others from the influence of the adamas gem’s magic, didn’t he?”
I nodded. Charon had spoken at length about the history of the Three Kingdoms, but not his own. I held my breath and wondered if he’d answer this.
“I can’t claim to have created it intentionally, but there are truths in the stories of the Oldwood. It tells us what we need to hear, or it grants what is necessary to survive. Chaos magic seeks balance just as most imagine Order does. It’s just approached in different ways. My displeasure at the use of my magic to create the adamas stone must have manifested in an antidote of sorts.”
My hand fisted at my side. “I wouldn’t say the goddesses seek balance.”
Charon snorted. “You would be correct. But I didn’t say they did. I said magic did.”
“Eris and Themis are magic, aren’t they? They created it.” An energy shot through me as I asked the question. This conversation felt natural, normal. I could almost imagine Alaric in the other room, complaining about my horrid coffee as we studied together in his workshop before the city rose.
“The Siblings aren’t magic incarnate. Theyusedmagic to create humans.”
His response brought forth a slew of questions. He knew so much that I’d never find in a history book. “They both created humans, but Hart said you were pure chaos. Eris created you?”
“As with much between the Siblings, competition escalated things. After creating humans, Themis created kings and queens—those with divine right to rule. Eris didn’t care for such a path. She created dragons—monsters with their own magic, to counter the authority of sovereigns.”
I considered this alongside the story that I knew. Eris hadcreated her Champions to challenge what was known. “It wasn’t just dragons, though. It was Champions, too.”
“Another escalation between siblings. Themis pushed her sovereigns to destroy, to conquer, to impose order on the continent. By doing so, they all but wiped out my kind. So, Eris created her first Champion. A final attempt to redistribute power.”
My gut told me the reason mattered. That if dragons and Champions were both ways for Chaos to counter Order, there was something that connected us. I swallowed the doubt that always crept up when I made a guess without solid evidence. “So we’re both paths to counter Order. Is that why I heard you call through the Oldwood?”
