Oracle of ruin, p.34
Oracle of Ruin, page 34
But they had each other.
My mother has no one. No one but me, someone she has always felt the need to protect above all others.
And this is the final straw. That light I have been terrified of going out, that I fight daily to keep burning, I have been the one to snuff it out.
I sit frozen on the stool as Aiko leads my mother away, that hollow smile still cemented on her face. She doesn’t protest as Aiko brings her to a room and lets her lie down. She hardly even glances my way.
And I just freeze.
The same way I froze when Vera used dark magic and almost killed herself. My muscles constricting and refusing to follow the instincts I’ve instilled in them since taking up the mantle of Noiteron. Of the king of mercenaries. Every time it mattered most, I couldn’t move. I was too paralyzed by fear of love lost.
The same way I froze when Mavis drove that knife into my thigh.
Aiko rests a hand on my shoulder and I jump. I hadn’t even realized she had returned.
“She’s sleeping.”
“I broke her. You were right. I never should have told her anything.”
“No,” Aiko says sternly, her hands gripping my arms. She rests on her knees in an attempt to be eye level with me, but the action forces her to crane her neck upwards, her height betraying her. “She would have had a worse reaction if we just brought Lyra home without telling her. She would have shut down just like this and then when she came to, she would be angry. No, she would be furious that we did not tell her that her sister was alive. You did the right thing.”
“Okay.”
“Rowan.”
“Hm?”
“You did the right thing,” The older woman speaks each word slowly, rolling the syllables off her tongue as if tasting their weight. She says it again, more weighty now.
Finneas claps my arms and helps his wife up when I sigh in relent. Just in time for the front door to open.
“No spies today?” Amír’s voice calls from the door. Her shoulders sag as she dumps four filled packs of what sounds like iron ore to the ground. Kya follows behind her, carrying four more bags that she drops with equal gladness.
“None since you left and I threatened to send Kya after them.” I force a grin onto my face as I embrace them both.
Finneas peeks into the sacks and whistles lowly. “Solid iron ore. I need to start training with you both again.”
“You’re always welcome to join, Finneas.” Kya beams broadly. “So long as you aren’t afraid of getting your ass kicked.”
The man laughs, the hearty sound filling the chilled void of the room with warmth again.
Aiko moves to embrace both the women before seating them both at the table in the kitchen. “Have either of you eaten yet today?”
Amír hesitates and it is all the other woman needs to notice. She pops her hands on her hips and whacks the gunslinger’s arm, eliciting a yelp. “Girls! It is nearly sunset and you’ve been gone since yesterday morning. Food is in order. Now.”
Kya giggles under her breath and Finneas helps rub out Amír’s weary shoulders. Her left has always bothered her more than her right, something to do with her father. That’s all she has ever told me. I suspected once that Kya knew the reason, but when I confronted her about it, she revealed she didn’t know, not that she would ever tell me if she did.
Aiko begins making something in the oven when Kya falls silent, despite being mid-conversation with Finneas. The older man glances at her curiously, but she only holds up a finger. “Someone’s coming,” Kya states without rising. She twists her neck to face the window and squeals. “They’re back!” She sprints out the door without waiting for anyone else.
We know if the distance weighed heaviest on any of us, it was the assassin. Derrín rarely goes on missions on his own, let alone missions to places no one has ever returned from.
Amír chuckles, but we can all see the relief written across her face. The anxiety and consistent wonder of whether or not they would return has worn on us all.
Aiko pales and her eyes well up. “Vera?” She drops her spoon, forgoing the meal she was cooking for my two mercenaries.
Her husband moves to meet her, his lower lip trembling and hands shaking. Finneas squeezes her hands as the tears begin to stream. “Oh, Laei.” Her husband holds her elbow and the two breathe deeply before following Kya out the door. The moment they’ve been waiting for for over twenty years waits for them just past the porch.
Another figure appears, summoned by Kya’s gleeful shriek. Blaine approaches my side, sighing in relief at the spots on the horizon slowly coming into view between the trees.
We spoke briefly after Vera left. He told me he kissed her, and although he apologized, we both knew he didn’t mean it. Not to me anyway. He felt more sorry for himself, because while he will never say it, we both know he believed for just a moment that she could have loved him again. He did not throw up his walls this time and did not turn to drink. He told me how his mother had fallen into similar habits when he was younger and how when she was clean, she made him swear to never fall into the same trap. She told him about his grandfather, then great-grandfather. He promised, and while he didn’t know where she was, the shame at breaking that promise helped steer him away from that path. His mother and Vera.
Blaine rests a hand on my shoulder. “You two will get through whatever is going on.”
I offer a weak smile in response. “I hope.”
And for a moment, it seems true. For a moment, I can see a future for us, one where we win this war and find the life we wanted from the beginning.
Until Kya’s scream shatters through the small peace.
Without waiting, we sprint towards the sound. The sunlight blinds us temporarily, but what I see is one figure in the trees—no, two figures. One standing.
Derrín carrying Verosa.
The mechanic’s skin is bruised and dirty, his dirt-stained face streaked with dried tear stains. His fingers have cracked open and begun to bleed from the strain of carrying her. He carried her all the way here.
He falls to his knees, his head to his chest as he lays Vera before Aiko and Finneas. “I’m sorry.”
Aiko pauses a moment, gasping for air as she raises a hand towards her daughter. She pauses just before her pale skin, as if afraid she could shatter her. Then she wails, a sound that slices straight through my core as she falls over Vera’s body.
I approach slowly, a fog shrouding my motions. At some point, my hand reaches for her face. Her mouth is slack and coated in blistering burns. Black snakes through her veins, stretching towards her heart beneath her skin. And her eyes—gods, her eyes. They lay open still, pitch black throughout, with whirls of silver.
Cursed blood.
Derrín presses his fingers over her eyes, closing them, but it is too late. Aiko screams over her body, holding her to herself as if it is the only thing keeping her from dying alongside her. Finneas folds himself over as if shot, an expression written across his face that I know will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I feel my heart shatter beyond repair as I lean over and close her eyes, then press a kiss to the back of her hand. I hold it to my face. It is cold. Something that was so warm, so loving even as it touched the blackest soul this kingdom has seen…
The first of my tears stain her skin as Finneas pulls Aiko away, her screams still piercing the air. He holds her tightly, still trying to shield her from the reality of it all.
I lift her into my arms, her inky hair falling as her head lolls back with no resistance. Was she always this light? Did her heart and soul truly weigh so much? “Open your eyes, love,” I plea with broken breath. “Just open your eyes for me.”
Because when she opens her eyes, they will be every shade of blue and lit with laughter. She will tell me in a hundred different ways how stupid I am, then how much she loves me in a million.
Her lips parted, the wind ruffles her hair. The world keeps moving, the sun still falling. Vera does not wake.
The war is so far away now. Mavis. My father. All of it seems so small now, holding her body. What all was once so light and warm is now stiff and cold in my arms.
An irrevocable truth rings through us all as the light begins to die.
Verosa is dead.
Chapter 44
Verosa
I should have expected death to be cold, but still, the frigid winds douse my system in shock. Can someone who has died feel shock?
I also should have expected the darkness. I should have expected the worst. I was foolish in that I did not.
The nurses told us of the Etherworld when we were all just children running around the palace. They told us the Etherworld consisted of a paradise known as the Heavens, or a place of eternal torment known as Hell. They swore to us it was true, and having nothing else to believe in, we trusted them.
I’ve been holding on to this hope that Tanja is in the Heavens and not trapped in eternal darkness. If it is just unending dark, I pray there is no consciousness to exist in the darkness, just a void. Even as the thoughts cause my heart to race and panic to climb my throat, I hope for it. Because this—an eternity of nothing but cold darkness—is eternal torture, and surely the gods couldn’t be so cruel.
The darkness envelops my form as I force my limbs to move, both sticking and yielding to my motions. Each step I take further into the void, the feeling grows familiar. My breath crystallizes before my face, the first sight beyond darkness for what feels like eternity. I follow each tendril of mist as my eyes begin to burn with the cold. My tears freeze to my face and I force my limbs to move.
“We are not doing this again,” I hiss through clenched and chattering teeth. “You don’t get to put me through this again!” I scream in frustration, but the cold only grows until I fall to my knees. “So what? You’ve killed me just to kill me again? Get on with it then! Send me to Hell!”
My own voice echoes back at me, followed by a slow, quiet tapping. The sound grows until I recognize those clicks. Fine leather heels on stone and quartz. Rhythmic. Poised. Cold.
The one time the gods listen to me…
The pale, heel-clad feet stop before my face and I bite my cheek.
I raise my gaze and force my shaking features into steel.
“Hello, Mother.”
Irene smiles, her face not a single day older than the day she died. Her lips curl wickedly as she sees where I kneel before her. A well-manicured finger traces my jawline and she tuts.
“Hello again, Verosa darling.”
Acknowledgments
The King’s Queen series has been in my mind since I was fifteen years old, but I would not have been able to bring it to life without the help of some amazing people in my life. There is not enough ink in the world to thank everyone who has helped me get to where I am, but I would like to start with the few who have been here from the start.
Thank you to my parents, Michael and Jennifer, for supporting me and not laughing when your nineteen year old daughter told you she was going to publish a book.
To my brother Brady, thank you for hyping up all the small blurbs I share on my instagram and reading the books when we both know that’s not your thing.
To my best friend Kennedy, thank you for crying with me. Thank you for reading everything I send you and for yelling at me when I kill the characters you like.
Finally, thank you to all the readers who have followed along for Vera and Rowan’s story. Thank you for loving them. We will see you again in The Light’s Shadow.
<3
Haydn
About the Author
Haydn Hubbard is a North Carolina native who spends most of her time daydreaming of worlds filled with love, magic, and occasionally dragons. The King’s Queen is her debut fantasy series and the first of many to come. When Haydn is not writing, she can be found competing with her horses in any local coffee shop or anywhere where there is a dog.
For more information visit her website at https://hhubbardauthor.com
Also by Haydn Hubbard
The King’s Queen Series
The King’s Queen
Oracle of Ruin
The Smoke and Ice Duology
Burning Heaven
Haydn Hubbard, Oracle of Ruin
