“Love can be fleeting and often gets destroyed or becomes a casualty during war. Considering we’re preparing to engage in a war, Griffon, I didn’t demand a vow of undying love from him. If what you really wish to know is if I’d consider mating another, the answer is no. I don’t want, nor do I need another mate. Love is also an emotion, which is conflicting and draining most days.” The crooked smile that sliced across his lips told me he knew I was full of shit. “Why would it matter?”
“Because one day you will be a queen, Aria. You need no throne nor crown to be one. The moment you drew air into your lungs and the land fed you its power, was the moment it chose you to lead its revolution as one. The land chose my mother, Scylla Prometheus, to rule the Nine Realms. Like she once did, you’ll control the power of the land.”
“What if I’m already a queen?” I asked, wondering if he’d allow me to hold the title still. Obviously I could take it, but that would be another battle, which I didn’t want.
“Of Norvalla?” His eyes slid to mine, even as we continued forward. An uneasy tension clung heavily in the surrounding air, as if it were loaded with upheaval at my words.
“Maybe, I’ve not decided if I intend to fully forgive him yet, or not. It depends on why he’d want the marriage. If it were merely for political gain, or to otherwise use me, then I wouldn’t. Knox needs to ask me, and he’d have to want me and nothing else.”
“King Karnavious forced you to wed him, he knew what you’d become. He’d seen you using your magic against a keep, which foretold just how powerful you’d eventually become. He may not have known you held the same power as my mother held, but he had to have suspected it was close to what she wielded. Did he not? Maybe not in its entirety, but he had to have known whose blood ran through your veins. He married you, then allowed his private council, hand-selected by none other than himself, to be guided by your mother. A woman who had no right to you, or the throne she seeks to implant her tiresome ass into.”
“Knox wasn’t aware of how powerful I was, or would become when he married me. Sure, he knew I was the most powerful of the sisters, which he’d chased back into the realms. Beyond that, Knox was as surprised as I was over the true symbol on my forehead. It is true that he assumed I’d be the likely one to ascend the Hecate throne, but that was squashed when she returned and reclaimed it. He didn’t leave me then, even knowing I’d bring him no potential gain. Instead, I left him so he could think about his reasoning for . . . certain things.”
Once again, Griffon hadn’t been incorrect, though maybe a little misguided. Anyone could see that I possessed the bloodline of Prometheus—or, at least some of it in my genes. The silver hair mixed with the large, cat-shaped turquoise eyes and lighter complexion was hard to ignore. Sure, I’d seen others with similar coloring outside of the hidden Kingdom of Fire, but very few. Not enough that the striking complexion hadn’t drawn my attention.
“You’re positive he didn’t already know?” he asked, which made the line in my forehead crease. “My daughter left a king so that he could think about his behavior toward her?” His head tipped back as laughter burst from his lips. “Aria, you’re a breath of fresh air. I’m pleased you came to meet me and see what this side of your family is like.” Griffon’s laughter was contagious, forcing a smile over my lips.
“I am too, Griffon.” After a moment of considering his question, I replied. “Maybe, but he seemed genuinely shocked when the sun appeared in the center of my forehead. Then there’s also the fact that when I recited the prophecy, he called it a nursery rhyme.” My brows pushed together, seeing the irony of me reciting a prophecy about myself. “I’ve also seen others outside of this kingdom with a likeness to our people. Sure, some have different eye colors or hair, and vice versa. If I’d not seen the people here, I’d never have assumed who or which people I belonged to,” I stated cautiously.
After a moment of walking in silence, I spoke carefully. “Besides, Scylla’s coloring wasn’t from the Prometheus line at all. It’s my understanding that the coloring came from the Vanir, the first inhabitants of the Nine Realms.” Of course, the books only ever noted their striking, blue eyes and light skin tone, so mine was an educated assumption based on what few indications there were.
A smile spread over his mouth as he scratched his silvery head. “It pleases me that you are well-apprised of our history, let alone what our people looked like. Few people ever realize that the first people weren’t of the realms themselves. I guess it is rather far-fetched that another race entered the Nine Realms when it had yet to form land masses. Probably why they merely assume the Greek gods were among the first, instead of the Vanir.” Griffon halted his speech momentarily as we stopped outside the wrought-iron gates, waiting for the guards on the other side to step forward and open them so we could pass.
Power rippled within the space between the iron gates and the crystals lining the entrance into the palace. Goosebumps pebbled my skin as the congregation flooded through the gates behind us. Where there should have been apprehension or a lingering fear of attack, there was nothing but this overwhelming sense of returning home. I didn’t feel the need to be alert or on guard about an attack from those around me.
“The Vanir were, of course, the first people. They’re the ones who inhabited this world, using mana and other means to create a land sustainable for life.”
“And they’re from Norse Cosmology?” I asked as my focus shifted to the waterways weaving throughout the courtyard we’d entered.
Birds zipped from one verdant bush to the other. Children placed paper boats into the streams, racing them as cheering echoed through the grand gardens. Large, emerald-green bushes had been trimmed to appear as maze-like passages. Flowers stretched throughout the bushes, covering the edges of passageways and statues of firebirds, dragons and knights with names etched on the bases of each pedestal. A covered vault—or something similar—peeked over the top of the hedges toward the center of the maze, seeming to beckon me forward.
“You’re much smarter than Aden forewarned me you’d be, daughter. Indeed, my great-grandfather is Prometheus. My father visited the realms, then left a parting gift, you could say, when he did so. His mother was one of Freyja’s Valkyries.”
Esme, who I’d assumed was silent because she’d been listening to the conversation, stood beside me. I followed her line of sight to warriors who were swinging deadly blades at one another. The warriors held the same silvery-colored hair as those who’d accompanied us inside the gates. Even from where we stood some distance away, I could see their eyes were a similar shade of blue as mine. One warrior bested another, and when he spun, as if intending to land a killing blow, he turned toward us, pausing in place.
Warmth flooded through me without warning, and a loud, buzzing vibration flooded through my head, bouncing from ear to ear in a looping echo. The sensation of falling filled me as the man took a step forward, pausing only when Aden stepped in front of me, cutting off my view of the warrior.