It wasn’t part of her plan.
And the queen knew, from the moment she’d first birthed the babe, that she would be forever changed.
The infant was wrapped in her arms now, warm and soft and full of the power to change the fate of entire worlds.
“Nor,” the queen said, stroking the child’s tiny cheek with her fingertip. “A strong name, fit for a child of the light.”
Footsteps sounded outside the room.
The queen looked up as the king swept inside, followed by a trail of guards.
“You look lovely, my heart,” he said, placing a kiss on her lips. A second later, he pressed one to Nor’s tiny forehead.
Years the king and queen had shared together, and still his eyes held the glassy look of a man helplessly bewitched by love.
The queen smiled at him. “You love me,” she whispered. “As much as the day you first laid eyes on me.”
“I will always love you, Klaren.” He said it as if it weren’t even a question.
She’d hardly had to try to entice him. Perhaps, in some way, that meant he was her gift. A man who loved her despite what she was. Despite the past she’d kept hidden from him all these years.
“Rest, my girls,” the king said, and then he was swept away by his entourage, worried looks on their faces as they bowed their heads respectfully, their voices full of strain, a single word ghosting onto their lips.
War.
Outside, the acid rain bit at the palace walls, stripping them away little by little, eating at the crumbling spires. Below, the ground rumbled with the warning of another quake soon to come.
Far beyond, on the city streets, a hundred thousand lives hungered for salvation.
The baby wailed, drawing the queen’s attention. “Sleep now, my perfect little mistake,” she whispered. “Sleep, and remember to dream of the light.”
The baby calmed at the sound of her mother’s voice.
In moments, her eyes closed.
Alone in her palace quarters, the queen of Xen Ptera rocked her daughter gently, a tear slipping down her cheek as she remembered her mission and thought of how little time they had left.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
* * *
VALEN
THE DARKNESS WAS often silent, the slow, steady beating of Valen’s heart serving as the only reminder that he was still alive. Still suffering the pains of Lunamere.
Sometimes he imagined he was back in his former bedroom, listening not to his heart, but to Kalee.
You’re strange, Valen, she’d always told him. But you’re my favorite kind of strange.
Tonight, he tried again to remember her.
She’d always had kind, curious eyes, and the sound of her laugh was like birds chirping on a spring morning as the sun rose up from beneath the floating gravarocks of Arcardius.
And yet, when he tried to bring forth an image of her face, it slipped away.
Instead, a sleek, cruel smile took its place. A queen of darkness and shadow. A mistress of misery and salvation.
The image of her was swept from his mind, leaving him to rock back and forth in the darkness, trying to remind himself of his mantra. His hold on sanity, his reason to stay alive.
Vengeance will be mine.
Revenge. It would taste so, so sweet.
As he rocked, he imagined that he heard footsteps in the darkness.
But along with the footsteps, he saw a glimpse of softly glowing light. Not the cold, bitter kind that came from his torturers’ electric whips or gauntlets, but instead, a light that danced and flickered as it moved and bounced off the walls outside of his cell.
Like the stars.
Valen gasped and held back a groan as he pulled himself forward on hands and knees. The fresh gashes in his back were still bleeding, his ragged shirt soaked through, parts of the fabric sticking to his shredded skin. He’d nearly died again tonight, beaten down until he’d slipped into that place of calm, warm light. He’d wanted to stay there, to feel the light on his skin.
But then he’d heard his sister’s voice.
Be strong, Valen, she’d whispered. Remember, we are stronger together. He held on until the beatings ceased, refusing to give up. Refusing to break.
He crawled forward now in his cell, desperate to get a glimpse of the strange new light. Even if it was a part of his imagination, it had color. It had a softness he hadn’t seen since being thrown into this hard place.
With effort, he made it to the door, where he knew a guard was always waiting, keys attached to his belt loop, fresh taunts on his lips when he knew Valen was awake and listening.
The sound of footsteps slowed.
The light in the hall winked out, and Valen was thrust back into darkness again.
“Who’s out there? Joneska?” Valen’s guard called out into the black. “We aren’t supposed to switch out for another half hour.”
With trembling limbs, Valen reached up and gripped the bars on his cell door, then pulled himself up so he could peer out through them.
There was a flash of light, a familiar crackle that made Valen’s guts roil as another guard, standing just down the hall, turned their short-whip on. The man holding it wasn’t one Valen had seen before.
Though he couldn’t remember the faces from his past, he knew the ones of his tormentors well—every cold gaze, every wrinkle in their haunting faces.
In the crackling light, this new man looked like he had stars trailing down his tan arms. Constellations that almost flickered with light, as if he were a painting, a work of art.
“Your shift is over,” the star-covered man said, smirking.
“Who the hell are you?” Valen’s guard barked out.
Another crackle of light as a second short-whip crackled on. Valen gasped, and pain raced through him as his broken ribs screamed in response to the movement.
But he couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped from his lips.
Couldn’t believe the sight of the pale-haired woman standing in the darkness, two glowing cuffs on her wrists, illuminating the dark scars on her arms and the blood splatters on her face that looked like paint.
She took a step forward, graceful and lithe as a predator—and so real, despite the fact that she couldn’t be. “What you should be asking instead,” she said with a menacing grin, “is why you’re still alive.”
The guard lifted his wrist, where Valen knew a com was attached.
But before he could speak, the woman reacted. She was a blur of color—pale starlight hair, red splatters on her face, soft glowing light around her wrists and the sharp, electric blue whip sparking as she brought it down in a sharp, solid arc.
There was a hiss.
A small puff of smoke.
And the man’s hand fell to the stone floor with a thump.
The guard was too shocked to even scream. He simply opened his mouth, staring down at his dismembered hand, his smoking stump of a wrist, then back up to look at the woman in the darkness.