Page 8 of The Last Guardian

She whispered, with all the innocence of a child, “You are not our burden.”

A fire blazed from nowhere. No. My wrist—it came from my wrist. And it ate my mother’s body. No! I felt the fire in my hands as I screamed, trying to reach her.

I WOKE UP gasping. Pale ochre marble walls pressed the air around me, as a cold silence filled my bedroom. My fingers clenched the ivory sheets, anchoring me.

Yes, a nightmare, nothing more.

Stars, it felt so real.

The nightmare of the cave wasn’t new, nor was Mother’s melted crown. They had become increasingly frequent over the past few months. But the burning? The burning was new. Ever since the mark had spread on my skin two days earlier, on the day of the memorial. The worst part was the fire still consumed me when I woke up, but it wasn’t real.

At least I no longer had any pain in my wrist. My heart pounded as I headed for the bathroom. I needed to ease the tension within my aching body.

Maids had already filled the marble bath with warm water, infused with the delicious scents of roses and coconut. The instant my muscles met the warmth, the tightness melted away. Rays of sunshine already spread across the white and golden walls, filling the room. I rested my head on the edge of the stone, tension bleeding from my shoulders, before lifting my left hand to see if it was still there.

The mark.

And it was. Looking at my skin a little more closely, I examined the new patterns. It was forming a symbol, white lines twisted like roots beneath my skin, but it hadn’t fully formed yet—it still moved.

I needed to get rid of it. If someone saw this… The damn thing moved by itself, dancing around my veins, clearly not a disease, nor a wound.

Was it…

No, it couldn’t be magic. My heart raced. No, the High Mages had banished magic a millennium ago—no one could use it now; it couldn’t be magic.

Should I show it to Haedeon then? My heart thundered faster. Why was this thought even worse than the first? I was supposed to trust him with this kind of thing.

I should investigate first, see the herbalist before showing it to Haedeon, just in case I could deal with it myself. That plan, however, would have to wait.

Grandmother had already claimed the day for Aurora’s dress fittings for the nights running up to the wedding, and, apparently, my presence was required. Romy could stay behind; at fifteen, her days were mostly filled with lessons with her tutors—lucky for her. Sadly for me, my day was all about dresses and cake tasting and surely other details I had gladly forgotten. And if the god, the goddess, and the stars were with me, perhaps I’d be lucky enough to taste chocolate cake.

My joy for the day would depend entirely on a piece of cake. Great!

Tonight, in homage to the Salonors, the royal family of Kalor, we would host the first ball of the week—a celebration in honor of Asael, Aurora’s future husband.

Once I got out of the bath, I ate a few fruits from a plate left on the table in my living room and put on my dark green velvet dress for today, with long sleeves that fell at the wrists to hide the mark. I couldn’t risk someone seeing it. A ribbon of the same green shade tied my brown hair back.

I pressed myself through the corridors and long stairs of the palace to make my way to the foyer to meet Grandmother and Aurora, already late for the first meeting at the tailor. I sped up my pace, but when I passed near Arthur’s room, his voice caught me mid-step through the closed door.

And… another voice rose from inside.

Arthur had been weird the other night when I asked about his friends. Since then, he’d avoided me. My curiosity crept in. Before I could even control myself, my ear was against the door.

“Do you know where they could be?” Arthur’s voice said, muffled by the thick door.

“No idea,” replied a deep male voice. “The only indication I’ve received is that they are north—around Lorath.”

Arthur growled, breathing loudly, as he pushed aside a chair that creaked on the floor. “Don’t make any fuss while you’re here. He can’t find you here.”

“He won’t,” the other voice scoffed.

Who were they talking about? Who was this person with Arthur?

His voice was so⁠—

“What do you think you are doing, young lady?” Grandmother’s voice startled me.

Her harsh features and piercing blue eyes stared at me. The dark gray dress reached up to the top of her neck, accentuating her sharp face, her hair pulled back in a bun.