It feels strange.
Ever since I first encountered him, he’s been close by, whether it’s within the walls of Tyron Castle or at my very side.
The only time I lost him was when Captain Kinnivar, influenced by a necromancer, tried to abduct me, but in the end, Corvan came for me.
How strange that I, so used to being alone, could yearn for someone so deeply?
I’ve grown used to him. To knowing that he’s just a step and a breath away; to his powerful presence, his protection.
And now he’s gone, leaving me here in this lavish palace, surrounded by a unit of the most dangerous soldiers in the empire.
The emperor’s chambers have been sealed off. An embalmer is working on the corpse. Nobody is to go in or out, because Corvan doesn’t want anybody to know that Valdon Duthriss is dead.
Not until he’s dealt with his half-brother and the Talavarras.
He’s gone alone. Right into the maw of the beast.
It feels surreal.
I can hardly believe it, and I hate this feeling; of waiting, of not knowing.
Of being helpless. How I wish I could protect him the same way he does me.
I glance up at the guard that walks by my side. His name is Einvar. He has long black hair and a shadow of a shaven beard covering his hollowed cheeks. I’m dwarfed by him.
The blond one on my left is called Kharuk. Ever since Corvan left, I’ve been assigned a pair of hulking Elite Guards to watch over me. They take shifts, swapping out at regular intervals.
The men of the Elite Guard are tight-lipped and terribly serious. They’ve barely exchange a word with me, but at least they’re unfailingly polite and courteous, making every effort to accommodate my needs.
Like now, for instance, when I’ve requested to visit the garden space at the center of the Inner Sanctum.
My guards are more than happy to oblige—as long as they watch over me at all times. Their presence is both reassuring and stifling. I can hardly believe what’s happened. Emperor Valdon Duthriss is dead, and his personal Elite Guard have sworn complete loyalty to Corvan.
Just like that.
They fully support him to become the next emperor of Rahava.
My betrothed is going to be the emperor.
What would that make me, then?
Empress?
But first, Corvan needs to return. I know he’s immensely powerful, with godlike abilities and formidable battle skills, but even he must have a weakness.
I’m afraid for him, and yet there’s nothing I can do.
It’s all so overwhelming.
That’s why I’ve requested to return to the inner gardens. The small chambers they’ve given me feel stifling and cold. I need to feel the fresh air on my face; to look up and see the stars in the night sky.
I need to inhale the scent of the freshly budding blooms and new leafy growth.
I crave these things, more than ever before.
I feel like I’m going mad, and not just because of not knowing.
My body feels strange. As if lightning is dancing through me. Magical energy rippling through my veins, with no way to find release.
If only I could harness that feeling I had before, when I momentarily bent the trees to my will and the magic bubbled over and sent roots out of my body and into the ground.
Unbelievable, isn’t it?
I’ve scanned the books in Valdon’s secret library. I’ve learned that my mother’s kind are powerful and that the ancient heart-seed is supposed to protect me. In theory, I should be able to manipulate the trees and even wood that’s long dead.
I just don’t know how.
Apparently, a dryad is just supposed to know from the beginning. It’s an instinctive thing.
We reach the garden. Einvar opens the door. Kharuk ushers me through. They begin to follow me.
I turn around and hold up my hand. “Would you mind giving me a moment? I just need some… space. You can keep an eye on me from the doorway. It isn’t as if anyone can come in here, anyway.”
The guards exchange a glance, some silent communication passing between them.
“As you wish, my lady,” Einvar says at last. “Take as much time as you need.”
“I appreciate it.” I leave them guarding the doorway, watching me through the tall windows as I step out into the small garden. It might have been Valdon Duthriss’s private sanctuary, a place where I comforted my betrothed at the height of his grief, but it still brings me a sense of peace.
When I’m around living things—plants and trees—the wild, brittle magic inside me becomes a little calmer.
It’s growing. It’s changing.
I’m changing.
And just as I yearn for Corvan, the magic inside me yearns for him too, for when he’s here, we’re in perfect balance.
I look up at the clear night sky. The air is cold and crisp. A soft woollen shawl—given to me by the guards—is draped across my shoulders.
I pull it tighter.
The stars are bright tonight; pinpricks of brilliance in the darkness.
I wonder if Corvan can see these very same stars right now. Or is he caught in some terrible battle?
Whatever he’s doing, I can only put my fear aside and trust him. He’s far too clever to get caught…
Isn’t he?
A gentle breeze tugs at my hair. It’s strange, but I almost think I can feel the plants and trees around me; reaching toward me, exuding a certain sense of comfort.
I can’t explain it.
Everything will be fine.
That’s what I try to tell myself.
But then I hear something behind me; a commotion, a clash of metal on metal.
Peace was only fleeting; I should have known it would go back to this.
For chaos seems to be the eternal state of the world.
Did I read that in a book somewhere?
I turn around.
The Elite Guards are fighting… with Emperor Valdon Duthriss.
Emperor…?
I blink furiously, trying to clear my vision. Am I seeing correctly, or am I hallucinating.
No. It’s real. The dead emperor is on his feet, swinging a heavy sword in a way that should be physically impossible for his frail body. Behind him is another attacker—a slender man wearing white robes, his hair concealed beneath white wrappings.
The embalmer.
He’s got a sword too. How does an embalmer know how to wield a sword?
There’s a crimson bloom in the center of his chest. Blood. He’s been stabbed.
Dread turns my throat dry.
As I catch sight of them, both the emperor and the embalmer look at me.
Their eyes glow unearthly green—the same as Kinnivar’s did when he abducted me.
They turn toward me.
Oh, my Goddess.
They’re undead, and someone’s controlling them.
My mind makes a silent plea; a desperate wish. I say a silent prayer to my beloved. Corvan, if you’re anywhere near the necromancer, please do something!
Einvar and Kharuk attack, holding the animated bodies—for that’s all they are—at bay with a supreme display of swordsmanship. I can see why they’re Elite Guards. They move with deadly grace and brutal efficiency, in contrast with the undead, whose attacks are crude and vicious.