Page 174 of Heir of Broken Souls

My boots eat up the gravel of the entrance, my strides long and purposeful as I try to catch up to Axel, all the while listening for Delilah’s quieter steps behind me. The outside may appear like a replica of the queen of Air’s residence, but stepping inside reveals something far worse. Darkness lingers in every corner. It leaks from every crevice and crack, between every stone and brick, sizzling along the walls and halls as if a living, breathing thing.

“Dark magic,” Delilah gasps in horror as she pushes through the front door behind me.

The art on the walls depicts moments of blood, gore, violence, and what appears to be sacrifice. The curtains are black, the carpet runners are red as blood, and even the flowers are black and dripping with death. It’s everywhere, in everything. But still, we don’t encounter another soul.

“Could it be a parallel?” Axel muses.

“A parallel?” Delilah questions.

I hum my agreement. “I’ve read stories before that hint to other universes. They appear similar to yours, but are entirely different.”

“How have I never heard of such a thing?” she questions.

I wink at her. “Perhaps my literary taste is far superior after all.”

Delilah rolls her eyes, but she smirks just a tiny bit. “Cocky Fae,” she grumbles. “There is no such thing as superiority when it comes to books. Stories are told to share and create joy. It doesn’t matter what story does so. What one loves, another can hate and you, my darling, need to accept that every mind is as unique as a story and therefor—” Delilah suddenly stops, her eyes widening. “My. Gods.”

My back straightens, my court spinning to face her. Her eyes whip to me.

“My mother—Eleanor—” she corrects. “She read me bedtime stories of parallel worlds.”

My brows flick up in surprise, my mind whirling at that tidbit of information along with the fact that she called Eleanor her mother instinctively. Eleanor was a large pill for her to swallow, one that she’s still trying to digest. Her mind constantly has to rewire her memories to fit the truth that was hidden from her for years.

“What type of stories?”

“Eleanor spoke of parallels, told me fairy tales of princesses and the worlds that are mirrored versions of one another.” She clears her throat from the heavy emotion. “Perhaps she told me for a reason.”

I ponder her words, trying the theory in my mind but something feels off.

“Why aren’t there any creatures or people in this world then?”

Elysia’s words make us pause.

Shaking my head, I say, “We aren’t going to find answers standing here…” As my words trail off, I spin to face Elysia. “What was the rest of the prophecy? The section after the mirror.”

Delilah and Elysia answer my question in sync, their voices taking on a lilt that makes goosebumps rise along my arms.

“Walk inside and come alive, but don’t be frightened of what you’ll find.

For all was planned you must persist.”

Delilah shakes her head. “None of that leads us in any direction.”

Harlow scoffs. “Figures, it tells us why we’re here but not where to search.” She throws her hands up in the air. “I’m no fool, but I certainly don’t see anything that can help us rid Aloriah of that heinous bastard.”

“There’s a reason it led us here. We just have to find it,” Delilah says simply.

Before Harlow can retort, Delilah raises her hand to stop her. “Don’t say anything, your comments will do nothing but put pressure on an already tense situation. We’re also not fools, Harlow. We know this won’t be easy.”

Delilah’s words settle between us all like heavy lead. Her eyes slide to me, the bond between us growing taut as she seems to beg for my lead. Not needing any more probing, I straighten before stepping farther into the castle.

“We need to know Peter’s true identity in order to destroy him, and something within this palace will hopefully lead to that information. We’ll split up into twos—” I stop myself, my eyes snagging on Harlow without Lenox beside her.

She smirks. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I don’t mind having a party of one.”

“What if?—”

Harlow cuts Elysia off with a flick of a dagger she was concealing. “I can handle myself, psychic.”