Swallowing the final sip of claret wine from the crystal goblet in her hand, she set it gingerly down on the gilded Louis the XIV table and sighed. The flames warmed her flesh, made it tingle and spark. Siria was a daughter of the sun, so it was ironic that she’d crafted a curse based on the power of the moon.
Smiling, she recalled the night. The whisper of moonlight across the babe’s brow. Clutching her heart, she straightened her chin. The curse had come at great cost to her though. Dark magic always came at a cost.
Marking young Chrysa’s soul had had nothing to do with desiring to break apart Jericho and Calanthe, that ship had sailed. So far as she was concerned, the two of them no longer mattered.
And as she gazed into the blood orange flame she allowed her heart for once to come out of its icy shell.
Here she sat, in a floating castle in the sky. Destined for all eternity to share her space with a male who did not love her, the only male she’d ever allowed herself to love. The only male who’d touched her, not only spiritually, but physically.
In all of Kingdom he was her only capable mate. The sun scorched all it touched. But not Jericho, her fire couldn’t burn him to a cinder; her fire could only love him as she had. Maybe even sometimes still did.
A crystalized tear slipped from the corner of her eye, sliding slowly down the length of her face.
No, the fact was, Siria had nothing to live for anymore. No one cared for her. What’d first started out as petty jealousy, was now… maybe a little bit more. The sliver of soul she now shared with Chrysalis was happy. Content.
Chrysalis, while as mad as her father, was also deeply loyal. Not that Siria trusted her fully. Her flesh tingled, rippled as she sensed Chrysa’s nearness to the moon pool.
It was the only time Siria could actually ‘see’ the girl. Her soul could feel Chrysa’s moods, and even at times ‘hear’ her thoughts. Depending on how powerful the emotion was behind it.
But Siria relished the moments she got to interact with the girl, in some ways Chrysalis was her only true friend anymore.
Reaching over her lap, she drew the scrying mirror into her hands and immediately the smooth, glassy surface began to waver. It was easier meeting Chrysa in a state that the girl accepted, which was why she always slightly modified herself to appear as the girl’s reflection except of course with blond hair, nothing she could do to hide the sun shining through her.
In truth the two of them looked fairly similar. Perhaps it was because Siria had shared that sliver of herself with the girl at birth. She wasn’t exactly sure of all the ramifications of the curse Rumpel had given her, but it didn’t matter either, so long as her end goal was met.
“What?” Siria demanded in that firm tone she often used with Chrysa. Not because she hated the girl, quite the contrary, but rather because if she didn’t take such a firm tone, the girl was wont to lose herself in the muckity muck of her own mind.
Chrysa blinked huge electric eyes back at her.
“I…I…don’t know…” She shook her head as if confused.
Taking sympathy on the poor girl, Siria waved her confusion away. “The man, what of him, what have you learned?”
It was difficult for Siria to solely rely on Chrysa for updates, during the day she could see all of what happened below, but at night the land was blocked from her sight. The sun and moon could not inhabit the same places.
Problem was, because the curse had been crafted from the moon, Chrysa was strongest only during the night. During the day she slept. Almost constantly, drained to the point of exhaustion.
Which wouldn’t be so bad, but for whatever reason, whenever Chrysa closed her eyes, Siria could not see her. She couldn’t understand, sharing souls as they did, she’d have expected to be privy to all of Chrysalis’ thoughts and deeds. But apparently there were limitations even to Rumpel’s powerful spell.
She gulped and seemed to take command of her emotions once again. “He travels with, Lissa,” the way the girl said that name, there was an obvious hint of contempt, “the self-appointed guardian of my father’s woods.”
“Ugh,” Siria rolled her eyes. Something about that shifting cat had always bothered her, mainly because it seemed like wherever Chrysalis went; the cat was never far behind. She’d not yet had the privilege of meeting the cat, but the tracks were always fresh and always there. Siria wasn’t sure how, but the shifter knew something about them. She had to. But what exactly? That was the real question.
And the fact that the cat now traveled with the man hell bent on their destruction, Siria, didn’t like this at all.
“I do not like her,” Siria mused.
“You do not know her,” Chrysalis shook her head. “Nor do I. She might just be a cat with a cat’s curiosity.”