Chapter One
It had been twenty-eight days since I murdered my own father.
Kin-slayer.
That was what I was. That was all I’d ever be known as.
I clenched my hands tight, trying toerasethe feeling of my father’s blood dripping off them. Though I knew itwasn’treal, my mind seemed to enjoy playing these tricks on me as of late.
Cruel, wicked tricks.
Taking a deep breath, I focused on the feeling of the warm, mid-summer air filling my lungs. I counted down from ten, then peeled my eyesopen.
I was in mineand Byn’s bedroom,locatedin the private royal wing of The Haven, which was inCairnyl, thecapitolof the South ofInphis.
So far away from what Ihadonce considered to be my home.
I was no longer on that battlefield, in that tent where Ihadfought my own flesh and blood.
It seemed my mindneeded to be reminded of that sometimes.
I brought my hands to my face and took them in. They were clean, of course, with no blood in sight.The life bloodon my hands that day had been surprisingly easy to wash away.
The markings left on my soul…well, that was another story.
I had to remindmyselfon days like these thatI’dhad no other choice than to put an end to Father. He would have stopped at nothing to continue to corrupt the continent—afterwreakinghavoc and chaos on it.
There’d been no other option,I told myself.
I vaguely remembered Byn, my loving husband, trying to coax me from bed earlier this morning.In response, I had tucked my head deeper into my silk pillow and drifted in and out of sleep once again.He, as well as the rest of ourValwain, had been doing their best to keep me active and my mind busy, but this week had been especially difficult. The memories had plagued my thoughts without end, etched into the depths of my heart.
A knock on the door drew me from the spiral of my mind.
“Go away,” I said without lifting my head from the pillow.
Without a sliver of warning, the door to the chambers swung open,and Matea swaggered in as though these wereherownchambers.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked her, pulling myself up into a sitting position and gently wrapping my wings aroundmyself. My hands idly stroked one of my gray-tipped white feathers.
“Anything I can to get you out of this bed. Out of this room, actually,”my half-sister replied, and though I wanted to beannoyed ather, I appreciated her honesty.
As she roundedmy side of the bed, I noticed she was holding a large plate of different fruit slices.Their sweet aroma floated through the air towards me, and without warning, my empty stomach released a ferocious growl, reminding me that Icouldn’trecall the last time I had eaten anything. Itmust’vebeen days.
“Andthisis why I brought the snacks,” Matea said. “Robyn said he couldn’t place the last meal you’d had. I figured some food would help.”
She set the plate on the small, honey colored wooden table next to the bed, then sunk to the groundand restedher back againstit.
“You know, you can sit up here,” I offered.
Matea waveda handdismissively. “I’malrightwhereI’mat. Now, either eat or start pouring your heartoutto me.” She phrased it as a joke, but I knew the underlying offer was legitimate.
Picking up a slice of a soft peach, I bit into it and nearly groaned as the sweet flavor and syrup coated my tongue.
After devouring that slice along with two more, I caught Matea peering up at me.
“Thank you,” I said softly after a beat of silence.
We both knew this act of service was my sister showing she cared and that she was worried. ThoughI’dfelt unworthy of that depth of love as of late, I still deeply appreciated it.
