Page 135 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
‘What do you want?’
‘I merely thought I’d share my plans,’ Eris said, shrugging lightly as if discussing the weather. ‘I’m dreadfully bored. AndI find myself longing for a war.’
Adriana’s eyes sharpened. ‘What are you scheming?’
Yet even as she asked, she knew the futility of it. Killing Eris would solve nothing. Death did not hold her. She would simply return to their realm, slip into another vessel, and begin again.
An endless, vicious circle.
‘I am leaving for Velunthar.’
‘Velunthar?’ Adriana’s brow furrowed, unease threading through her voice.
‘Oh, let us say a little birdie told me where I might finally find my real mother.’
Adriana went still.
She refused to let the pain show—the sharp, tightening ache that clenched around her heart at Eris’ choice of words. She had always known she could never replace the one who had birthed her. Even in absence, that woman cast a long shadow. Still, Adriana had tried. She had tried to love Eris despite the thorns, despite the cruelty, despite the darkness that seemed stitched into her very being.
‘Did Persephone tell you?’ Adriana asked, forcing steadiness into her tone. ‘Are you working with her now, Eris? Nothing good will come of that.’
‘Oh, spare me.’ Eris rolled her purple eyes with theatrical exasperation. ‘Do not start preaching. Did you not once work with Persephone to help Hecate cast Melinoe into Hell?’
‘That was a long time ago,’ Adriana replied through gritted teeth. ‘I have changed.’
‘How admirable,’ Eris laughed softly. ‘I have not.’
She turned on her heel, already striding away as though the matter bored her.
‘Wait!’ Adriana called, emotion tightening her throat despite herself. ‘Eris… it does not have to be this way.’
Eris paused only long enough to glance back. Those eyes—no matter the body, no matter the colour—were always the same. Hard. Unyielding.
‘Unfortunately,’ she said coldly, ‘it does.’
Adriana moved instinctively, ready to reach for her, to seize her arm, to force sense into her if she must. But a massive hand closed around her wrist.
Cronan.
He shook his head once, a silent warning from something older than gods, older than grief.
And so Adriana stood rooted to the grey earth, watching her daughter walk away.
Two hearts,long since fractured, breaking all over again.
I will find the way to save us. To have my son returned to me once again. I will find the way to have a peaceful life with Hadrian, our son safely tucked between our arms.
Even if I have to burn the world to ashes.
Tabitha Wysteria
Mal could still see the moment Morthos carried the queen’s body down to the shore.
The wind had been sharp that day, restless and salt-bitten, tugging at cloaks and hair alike as though even the sea wished to mourn. Ash and Mal had followed behind in silence, the space between them heavier than grief itself. They had not spoken since their daughter’s birth. No shared glances. No fingers entwined in secret comfort. No lips brushing against her neck in absent-minded affection.
Mal told herself it was for the best.
That silence was safer.
