Realms in Ruin

Cold marble bit into my knee as I knelt before the throne. The familiar tang of fear coated my tongue, and I swallowed hard. I’d spent enough hours on this floor to know every crack running through the marble, but that still didn’t ease the fear that quickened my pulse.

A loose lock of crimson hair escaped my headscarf and brushed against my cheek as I kept my head bowed.

Queen Adelaide clicked her tongue. “How unruly.”

I adjusted the scarf blindly and slipped the hair back in place before her eyes had time to linger. She wouldn’t coax me into reacting to her again. The last time remained fresh in the scars on my skin. My eyes stayed lowered until King Rydell spoke.

“You may rise.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I bowed to him once more before standing.

Our eyes met, and I held back a shudder. Light blue eyes, the color of ice, froze me still. Silver threaded his dark hair, but the authority in his gaze hadn’t lessened with time. Part of me still searched his face for warmth, despite knowing better.

Beside him sat Queen Adelaide, each silver-blonde strand of hair perfectly placed beneath her crown. Her face was calm as still water as her gaze slid over me the way one might inspect a crack in fine porcelain. She never said the words aloud, but I had felt them since I was old enough to understand. I was living proof that the King had once loved someone else more than her. My mother—the siren he had kept in the shadows—had been the only one to hold that place. I was simply the evidence left behind.

Evelyn sat next to her mother, her posture not quite as refined. Golden curls framed her gentle face and softened the weight of the sapphire circlet resting on her brow.

She was the only one on the dais who acknowledged me as a sister, though just barely. Prince Morvin, sitting to the King’s right, didn’t hesitate to voice his disdain for me. I’d broken his mother’s heart and was forever a blemish on her existence.

Prince Morvin leaned against the King’s throne in embroidered ocean-blue silk, looking entirely too comfortable. His amused smile settled on me long before a word was spoken.

“The Lunai envoy arrives tomorrow,” the King announced. The news almost took my breath away, but I managed to hide my reaction. Peace had been declared, but distrust still lingered between the realms—and now he was inviting the enemy through our gates. “Prince Varen himself will lead the envoy,” he continued.

A murmur rippled through the King’s advisors before dying just as quickly. “He comes to claim Lunai’s war prize.”

My eyes found Evelyn before I could stop them. She didn’t move, but her fingers tightened against the carved arm of her chair.

“Father,” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. “There must be another way.”

“There is no other way, Evelyn.” He hesitated, his gaze never leaving me. The quiet around him was punctuated by distant bird calls, before he moved on. “Lorelai, you are to extend a warm welcome to the Lunai envoy.”

I knew immediately what he was asking of me. “Your Majesty… if they sense I am using my powers on them—”

Sirens were a tainted race, despised in every realm. The words tasted dangerously close to pleading.

His answer came without hesitation. “Ensure they don’t.”

Queen Adelaide spoke next, every word clipped. “Every member of this family carries burdens they did not choose.”

“Careful not to sing too sweetly, Lorelai.” Prince Morvin struck another blow. “We wouldn’t want our guests getting the wrong idea about what kind of hospitality Rykane offers.”

I bit the inside of my cheek until the sting steadied me.

“Enough,” the King said, silencing Prince Morvin in seconds. “If your sacrifice secures Rykane’s future, then it is a sacrifice worthy of the realm.” My head dropped as I bowed once more. “You are dismissed.”

With a turn of my heel, I was out of the throne room within seconds. The doors closed behind me before I let myself breathe. The King’s words echoed louder in the empty corridor than they had in the throne room.

Servants hurried past me with baskets of linens and trays of polished silver, preparing for tomorrow’s reception. No one glanced twice at me as I walked toward the western tower.

Afternoon light danced across the mosaic floors crafted from pearl, shell, and blue sea glass. The farther I walked west, the fewer voices carried behind me.

My room overlooked the sea, small by royal standards but large enough to hold everything that mattered. A bed rested by the window, giving me the perfect view of the waves crashing against the shore below. At its foot was my small bookshelf, home to all the treasures I’d found around the realm. Pressed flowers dried between books stacked beside the window, and small clay pots crowded the sill.

The pink gown slipped from my shoulders, and the matching shawl peeled away from my hair with ease. Untying each ribbon felt as if I were shedding a burden, the pressure in my chest easing with every knot I undid.

Compared to the opulent court gowns, the faded linen dress I retrieved from my closet had a comforting, worn softness. I pulled my long hair back into a loose ponytail and swapped my heels for a trusty pair of leather boots.

The woven basket with my gardening tools waited by the door, where I had left it. If anything could clear my mind, it was being outside.

The western gardens weren’t frequented often. They spilled toward the cliffs in terraces of flowers and herbs. Tucked against the outer wall was the only place no one else tended. It wasn’t the grandest corner of the palace, but it was the only place that felt like mine. I’d spent hours tending the land to make it my own.

The soil was soft beneath my knees, unlike the marble of the throne room. The basket rested at my side, and I donned my weather-worn gloves with practiced ease.

Dead weeds came away with a practiced tug, while I left the healthy flowers untouched. I found my rhythm, working quickly before moving on to the next section of the garden.

Once I had finished weeding the flower beds and swept away the loose debris, I began planting the pearl lilies I had harvested from just outside the palace walls. I’d read in a book that they made a great anti-inflammatory when brewed in tea. They would make a useful addition to my herb garden.

My fingers brushed the few remaining moonlace blossoms I’d tucked into the basket earlier. Their pale petals always shimmered in the sunlight and glowed faintly beneath the moon—the reason Ariv used to drag me out here after dark to gather them.

We’d planted bulbs together last spring, but none had ever bloomed.

Just thinking about him made the garden feel emptier. His wind-tossed brown hair never stayed where it belonged, no matter how often he tried to smooth it down. He’d always known what I needed, whether that was silence or a listening ear. Months after his execution, I still caught myself expecting his footsteps.

I wiped a tear away and forced myself upright. The pouch in my basket was nearly empty. If I wanted any chance of sleeping before tomorrow, I needed more moonlace.

The wild patches below the western cliffs were still full of it, though I hadn’t gone there since Ariv.

I slipped my knife into my basket and headed for the cliff path.