Chapter One - Ari
In this moment, I can almost forget the sting of the arrows. Forget the panic that had raced through my veins. The fear. The hopelessness.
Almost. Because you can never really forget the moment when death’s cold veil claws at your body—greedy and unyielding. A monster hellbent on claiming you as his. Worse than the chill of death, though, is the inability to forget the excruciating surge of power that stole me from his grasp.
I sink a little deeper into the iron tub. Inhaling, I draw in the sharp scent of pine, the subtle tang of lemon. It sweeps through the cracks within me, the resigned void that this is my life. I am the Queen of Eida.
The lukewarm bathwater brushes my chin but does nothing to stave off the chill from the memory of that night. I lift my fingers from the water and ignite a subtle spark at my fingertips before letting it burn out.
My thoughts focus on a wildfire that once ravished the woods near Bridgewick. The spark lights again, and I flourish my hand, sending a wave of magic over the water’s surface. I close my eyes as the water warms. It peels away the tension in my shoulders and threads a vein of ease through my back. I sigh.
I’ve bathed more in the past eight weeks since becoming the Starfallen queen than all my time in Eida. Each night I return to the Troll King’s cottage—my cottage—to find the iron tub full and steaming. I flick at the still water and the spray skitters over its surface. My chest tightens, washing away the ease the warm water had brought.
This indomitable, remarkable magic coils against my fingertips. I close my fingers around the sensation. I would gladly have taken the Troll King’s magic, if it hadn’t also forced me to claim his throne—an imprisonment unlike any I’ve had before.
I suck in my lower lip and stare into the water. The ache in my chest pinches, fastening itself around a cavity in my heart I can never seem to fill. The place consistently scraped out by betrayal.
The two people I trusted most in this realm shackled me to it. The heat of anger sent Graeden to ruin the one chance Tib and I had to escape this realm. The chaotic panic, desperation, and the fear lost among the dying led Tib to drive my hand and my dagger into the Troll King’s heart.
Now, I’m trapped here forever. I inhale a shallow breath, and anxiety crackles through my chest. This was never meant to be my life.
Sinking into the water, I exhale everything from my lungs as I submerge. I prefer the subtle burn in my lungs to the constant tightening I’ve felt since I awoke eight weeks ago with the Troll King’s magic—my magic.
It drifts through my veins, a slow cloud wandering lazily. It only took a few moments as I lay on the arena’s blood-soaked ground for the Troll King’s life to drain from his body and his power to flood into mine. It took even less time for his decades worth of knowledge to surge into my mind. A transfer of everything he and his predecessors to the new queen.
Stripping flesh from bones, wielding a sword without a hand, and filling a body with poisons and diseases from the inside. He held the power to blind your enemies or force them to fall in love.
A barrage of death and carnage and deceitful tricks. And as they slowed, the depths of his magic he hardly ever used opened in my mind. Creation of artifacts and windows to memories. Light and air and growth. He held power to bathe the world in darkness and power to cast it out.
No spells or incantations. Just memory. Now, my memories to pull from a shadow of thought into reality.
My head breaks through the water’s surface, and I suck in a breath of crisp air. The onslaught of the Troll King’s power and knowledge had lashed to my core. Pain licked through my body, stronger than any wound I’d ever received.
Inaara’s fire flares within my blood, and I welcome the distraction. Her flames roil, hot and angry, but the magic swaths over my dragon’s anger, a soothing caress. The scalding flames simmer—a balance of fire and ice.
I rest my head on the back of the tub and open my eyes. Ivy crawls across the ceiling, pouring into the room from the open windows. It hangs as a curtain over the walls. I trail its path to the floor-to-ceiling mirror where the vines curl around the mirror’s tarnished edge, choking it.
I drop my gaze to the water, shimmering with my magic’s teal and violet hues. It’s choking me. All of this. A sigh escapes my lips. I don’t want their memories or to be their queen.
I’m not one of them; the Starfallen cursed to live as trolls in Eida. And they see it, too.
The door creaks to my room, and a chambermaid slips in, lugging an urn filled with steaming water. It sloshes over the sides and splatters onto the floor with her swaying gait.
“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” the woman says. Her flat nose spreads wide into her cheeks, her hair a sparse patchwork on top of her head. Boils pockmark her skin. She’s ugly, but then so are all the trolls.
That’s the plague Eifelgard’s Dark Queen cursed them with along with tying their powers to their king’s—now to mine—and locking them away in Eida. No wonder they hate me so—an insurgent wielding their people’s power.
Smothering the thought, I glance at the chambermaid. “No need to apologize.”
The woman dips her fingers into my bath. “I thought it would have chilled more by now.”
I shrug and offer a small smile. Graeden said to let the Starfallen serve me. So, she can bring me bathwater I don’t need and pin my hair up in a plait I’ll undo the moment she leaves the room. They can bring me food and travel daily to the Well of Eida to watch for Caelum.
I bite down against his name. He stole my life when he sacrificed me to the Well of Eida. I am more than ready to return the favor.
The woman pours the scalding water into the bath, but I barely register its heat. Magic gathers against my fingertips again, and my thoughts return to the arena. To Graeden sliding Tib his blade. How Tib wrapped its hilt in my limp hand and then shoved it into the Troll King. I wanted to survive, but not like this.
Inaara’s fire barrels through my body, but it isn’t with anger. My gaze falls to the bathwater, and I frown. Graeden and Tib tried to help me as I lied beneath Death’s blade. I shouldn’t blame them for the aftermath. For shackling me to this realm as the Starfallen Queen when my life has never really been mine. I shouldn’t blame them, but it’s hard to stifle the sting of betrayal when it feels as if they threw me into the Well all over again.
With a deep inhale, I calm the war within my heart. It would be too easy to hate them—too easy to shut them out—but I don’t. I won’t. They’re all I have in this realm.
I blink, my gaze refocusing on the chambermaid. She scowls as she pours another jug of water into the tub, her gaze averted from mine.
The Starfallen can waste their time in service to me if they wish. I see their disgust when they watch me. The envy gleaming in their eyes and their whispers of unworthiness when I cross their paths. They can serve me, but I don’t trust any of them.
“If that is all?” The chambermaid offers a stiff curtsy. I nod, my gaze fixed on my bare knees, ignoring the bitter edge in her voice.
When I stood before the Starfallen people as their new queen, I would have rather died than reign over the people who stole everything from me. To protect them. My throat dries, and I swallow. I would have rather died, but as I wash, I’m grateful I didn’t.
Tib took my disdain and replaced it with something I’ve wished for since Caelum sacrificed me to Eida. Vengeance. My gaze flickers to the window where the Well flashes in the distance. I’m grateful I lived if only for what will come when the Starfallen return with Caelum.
The chambermaid shuffles to the door, her slippered feet a hush against the wood floor. The door creaks, and she disappears behind it.
A quiet murmur echoes beyond the door as it swings closed and latches into place. I glance over my shoulder at the smooth, redwood door that shields me from where Graeden waits, giving me the privacy he never did when we first met. My cheeks flame.
I absorb another moment of warmth and then stand. Hot water trickles down my body, a skin of ice touching the path the water leaves behind. My muscles ache despite the soothing bath. I’d spent the day in Vasa’s woods, dragging threads of memory into existence. I’d cast light into the shadows. Water had dribbled down my fingertips. Vasa’s forest swayed without a breeze. I controlled it all.
Climbing from the iron tub, I snatch a plush towel from my bedpost and dry my skin before slipping into my old fur-lined leggings. A crimson gown spreads over my bed, devouring the opulent blankets. It belongs in the trunk at the foot of my bed with the others. I will never wear such a thing. I’ll never be their queen. I give the monstrosity a sidelong glance before pulling my wool-knit sweater over my head. I inhale the musty scent of age, the faded scent of sweat that reminds me of a simpler time in Eida.
Everything is different now. Me. This room. This realm. My gaze wanders back toward the door. Graeden.
My chest aches, but I smother the feeling. His part in “saving” my life hurts the most. I trusted him. The first person in this fire-ridden realm I trusted, and he shackled me to it. I’d let myself feel things for him when I should have stayed clearly on my side. Fallen warrior and Master.
Pulling my thoughts from Graeden, I saunter toward the open window.
In the past, Starfallen rulers have had an entourage of guards. Others to protect them, take an arrow through the chest for them, and for a single guard, to one day claim the throne as the heir. Like I need someone to protect me. Like I’d trust any Starfallen to do the job.
I’m only now understanding my magic’s full scope, which is varied and wide, but not endless. It’s tied to memory. Mine and the previous generations of Starfallen rulers. Without a memory to draw on, Starfallen magic can do nothing. To pull a memory into reality takes enormous energy, too. When the memory or energy runs out, the Starfallen rulers are left to defend with only a blade and the strength of their arm.
Despite their magic, others still attacked the Starfallen kings. Still killed them just as I did to the Troll King. No other Starfallen ruler ever had a monster to unleash, and never claimed dragonsfire. When my magic depletes, I won’t need a sword or a scythe. There has never been a stronger monster in all the realms—a dragon shifter and Starfallen queen.
I refused the army and yet still walked away with one loyal soldier. Shaking my head, I swing my leg over the windowsill. Graeden’s loyalty isn’t to me, though. It’s to this realm. If he had to choose Eida or me, he wouldn’t hesitate to choose Eida.
I press my lips together. His loyalty runs deep to his people.
As I swing my other leg through the window, I stare into the night’s shadows, retracing the steps I’ve taken many times to sneak out of this very room. Inaara purrs against my chest, ready to unfurl her wings and soar.
Somewhere in the dark night, Tib runs among the Seekers doing what he’s always done and ensuring they live. For a moment, I wonder if I’ll see him tonight. In those first few days of my reign, I found Tib anchored to my side with Graeden.
They stood as my unwanted shadows as I grew accustomed to the Starfallen magic, but Tib soon realized he had more to offer the Seekers left behind in Ghora. My stomach twists as I remember the bitter smile he gave me as he distanced himself. It was for me, he’d said. To protect my realm’s forgotten district.
Frowning, I put the thought from my mind and shift my weight on the wood railing. Before I lower myself to the ground, someone snatches my wrist. I whip around to face Graeden. My gaze snags on his brooding gaze, the way the dim evening light evening darkens his bronze skin.
He wears his loyalty like a shield, though disapproval flashes in his eyes. A Starfallen queen disappearing into the night? I was his slave, his warrior. I was at his mercy, and now he’s at mine.
“You know,” Graeden’s voice is soft, reverent. “You don’t have to sneak out. You’re the queen. You can go wherever you’d like.”
I raise my wrist and flash the soft flesh on the inside at him. The pale brand coils intricately against my skin as bright as the day Graeden gave it to me. “Just not alone, right?”
After I became queen, Graeden told me how his brand against my wrist worked. He’d unfastened the bracers from his own and showed me a similar burn on his arm. I never knew he had one. Their designs were different, but I could feel the leash connecting us through them. With a brush of his fingers, he would always find me.
“I wouldn’t need your brand to track you.”
“And you don’t need to track me at all,” I hiss, betrayal seeping into my tone. “I’m not an animal.”
Graeden flexes his fingers at his side, and his muscles tense. “You are the Starfallen queen. You should not be alone. Especially right now.”
I lower my wrist. Since I became the Starfallen Queen, Graeden hasn’t used the mark he gave me, allowing a master to track his slave. But he could. It’s still there, the magic that links me to him, writhing beneath the brand.
If I knew how to rid myself of the magic that allowed him to find me, I would have done it already.
“I know of the insurrections,” I snap. “Have you forgotten the monster you helped me unleash? Or maybe the immense power you so kindly procured for me? Do you think I can’t stand against them?”
“I think you shouldn’t have to.” Graeden’s voice is calm, but a storm brews in his gaze. “The Starfallen are your people now—all of them. Even the handful who would see you dethroned…”
“So, I should show them mercy?” I ask. “They hate me.”
“They don’t hate you. They fear you. You should try to understand them,” Graeden says. “Maybe try to unite them.”
“I do understand them.” Magic scintillates through the dark violet clouds, mocking me. Reminding me of our curse. I pull my legs back inside and stand to my full height. “The Starfallen have lost their throne to an insurgent. Not only that, but to the very race who cursed and banished them in the first place. They want my blood if only to put the throne back into their hands. They’ll never unite beneath me.”
“So,” Graeden raises a brow. “Can you understand why I don’t want you traveling alone?”
My anger sputters, and I frown. Bloody sands, he’s good.
“Many would rule worse than you if given the chance. Even among the Starfallen. Let me stand with you.”
We fall silent, the void swelling between us with unspoken words. Dropping my gaze, I settle onto the bed. A loose thread sticks out obstinately from my lush quilt. I curl it around my fingers again and again. Anything to avoid Graeden’s eye.
“Where were you going?” His voice softens. He already knows.
“A nightly stroll.”
“You mean to the Well.”
I purse my lips and tie the thread tight around my forefinger. The Starfallen have searched for Caelum within the human realm for weeks. I sent them with enough magic to travel farther from the Well, but it should have run out days ago. My jaw tightens, and I glance toward where the Well flashes in the distance. They must be close to finding him.
When I confront Caelum, he’ll pray to Eida’s beast itself for mercy. He won’t find any in Eida, though.
I’ve visited the Well daily for the past two months. Waiting. It’s done nothing to bring Caelum to me sooner. I release the thread, unbinding my finger. I would have searched for him myself if Eida’s queen wasn’t tethered to her throne. The only Starfallen incapable of even stepping foot outside the troll realm. For what would the Starfallen be without their queen?
Flourishing my wrist, I draw a light into my palms. The sunlight’s memory brushes my skin, potent and close to the surface. It’s easy to pull the strands into reality—the light curls around itself, a small sun in this darkened world. The magic rolls off my skin, cool to the touch.
“Do you think the Starfallen—?” I don’t finish the sentence. The Dark Queen’s curse ensures the Starfallen will return to Eida. If they don’t, it’s because they’re dead.
“The Starfallen are resilient, my Queen. They’ll return.”
My heart flutters at his voice, his tone rough like gravel yet as warm as buttered scones. A tone the fiercest Trader in Eida only uses around me. Graeden once told me he was in my corner, and I could trust him. I believed him, and then he gave Tib the knife that anchored me to Eida. I smother the sensation. “Stop calling me that.”
Graeden lifts a delicate circlet of roots from the side table—the cursed Starfallen queen’s crown. The braided strands weave together, a few buds only days away from blooming. “It’s what you are.”
“What you made me.” I snatch the circlet from his hands and hold it in my lap. I bet with a little force I could snap it in two. “I don’t want this—any of it.”
It’s not a secret. I’ve told Graeden and Tib many times I don’t belong on any throne, let alone this one.
I stare at the window and into the empty night. The circlet slips from my fingers and falls to the floor.
Graeden clears his throat. He keeps his voice low, but it doesn’t waver. “I would do it again,” he says. “If it meant saving your life.”
My chest aches, a longing, somber feeling. He didn’t save my life even if he tells himself otherwise. Had he wished to save my life, he would have helped me escape this realm. Graeden’s loyalty has always first been to Eida. If I wasn’t now personally responsible for his realm’s well-being, would he even still stand here at my side?
“Kill or be killed,” Graeden whispers. “That reign is over. Now, Eida desperately needs a change. Abandon your revenge, and you could be the change this world needs.”
“I don’t want to be the change,” I say. “This isn’t my world.”
“Whether you like it or not, it is.” Graeden’s tone sharpens. “You have a responsibility to these people.”
“I don’t want it!”
“It doesn’t matter what you want,” Graeden growls.
Our chests heave between us, our furious glares driving into each other. Graeden’s anger melts first, and he drops his head. “Apologies, Your Majesty. It’s not my place, is it?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “No. It’s not.”
Graeden pinches his lips, but his jaw ticks. He isn’t finished. My gaze roams over his lips, waiting for his restraint to crumble. The subtle scent of woodsmoke fills the space between us, and I don’t hesitate to savor it.
The tension in my chest eases, Graeden’s scent loosening the wound I’ve clung to. For a moment, I’m taken back to the catacombs. The water lapped against our chests, his arms locked around my waist, his lips nearly brushing mine—the fluttering sensation in my stomach, the current that had crackled between us. I inhale again. Inaara can smell the distant attraction even now.
“You could do so much more.” There it is.
My attention flicks to reality, and the respite from my anger dissolves. “More? I’ve already ended the games in the arena.”
How can he ask for more? I never asked for this responsibility. It’s because of Graeden, I almost died in the arena. It’s because of him and Tib I now carry this unwanted mantle. They should feel so lucky with what I’ve changed in only two months.
“And you think that’s enough?’ Graeden asks.
“It’s more than anyone else has ever done.”
Graeden steps toward me, casting me in his shadow. “You’re not everyone else. Besides, with that change, people overrun this realm. We have thousands and not nearly enough resources. Seekers and Fallen starve every day.”
My stomach twists. He’s right about it all. I didn’t need to think twice about shutting down the arena when I awoke as queen. We may live in this cursed realm, but it would no longer be bathed in blood.
Unfortunately, I can’t change the laws the Troll King had written into existence, though.
No Fallen may leave this realm without reaching his or her pardon. No Seeker may leave without claiming their wish through blood. So, now we’re all trapped here.
I swallow against my dry throat. I’ve done to this realm the very thing Graeden and Tib did to me. Still, I can’t bring myself to restore the games.
I tighten my jaw. The fighting hasn’t stopped either. The Fallen have blood inscribed into their very beings. Many carry a vengeance against the Seekers, too. When they cross paths, they usually leave blood in their wake.
“Since when do you care about the Seekers?” I ask.
“Since when do you not?” Graeden counters. “Figure out how to feed them. Build a healing center. Just do something with that power!”
Standing, I tip my chin up to meet Graeden’s gaze and draw my lips into a flat line. “You want more? A healing center will make everything better?”
Exhaustion reels through my limbs, but I roll my shoulders. I’d used nearly my entire magic reserve today. One more spell.
I flourish my hands, and a blue-gray mist cascades from my palms. It pours through the room, skating along the floor and slipping through the window. Shutting my eyes, I travel with the magic as it slithers over Vasa’s soft soil toward the Crossing.
When it reaches the wall separating Ghora and Arautteve, I launch my hands skyward and the magic cuts through the misty clouds. They froth and churn, growing thicker and darker. The earth grumbles beneath our feet, but I don’t release the magic.
“What are you doing?” Graeden stumbles back, his gaze flicking from me to the sky and back. “Ari, stop.”
I don’t. I can’t. I shove all my anger and pain into the last remnants of my magic.
“Ari,” Graeden warns. His eyes widen, locked in the distance.
The sky crackles with magic. A flash of cobalt. A clap of emerald. Though I can’t see it, I feel the twisted tower burst through the ground. It spirals in a coat of obsidian toward the sky. Up. Up. Warped onyx spikes burst from its sides, and shattered glass rains over its peak, fusing together in a single round room.
I drop my hands and the magic vanishes, leaving behind a thin haze. My chest rises and falls with labored breaths. That’s it. There’s hardly any magic left inside me. That’s all my anger, too. Graeden should never have given Tib his dagger that afternoon. He should’ve chosen someone else to rule his precious realm.
I swallow the fatigue, and collapse against the bedpost. My energy is gone, hardly enough left to glare at Graeden. My eyes grow heavy, and I blink hard, refocusing. I’ll need a good night’s rest to replenish my energy. Until it returns, I won’t be able to pull more memories into reality. My gaze slides toward Graeden.
His brows hang low over his eyes, unamused.
I flash him an exhausted smile. “A healing center right where those who need it most can find it.”
No one in Eida has ever found healing. Eida is not a place to find life. It destroys it. I squint at the tower in the distance, twisting to the sky in treacherous spires. It’s unlikely anyone who needs healing can reach its top. I grimace. Anger had laced my magic and warped the tower’s creation. Graeden isn't wrong for wanting more. Just wrong in wanting more from me.
Graeden scowls.
“I’ve already changed things,” I say, but my words carry my fatigue instead of the bite I wish. “No more battles. No more executions. We feed Eida’s beast from those who die naturally rather than those cut down in the arena. Stop pushing me to be the queen you want. I’m not her.”
Pain flickers through my chest, and I glance to the window.
“You could be.”
“I’m a Fallen warrior with dragonsfire in my veins and stolen magic at my fingertips. Not royalty.”
Graeden settles on the bed next to me. “You are the Queen of Eida. You are not so alone as you think you are. You may wield a Fallen’s power as well as a dragon’s and a Starfallen’s, but you do not have to wield it alone. You have an entire realm on their knees for you if you would claim it.”
I dare a glance over my shoulder at him.
He wets his lips, and Inaara can smell the woodsmoke rolling off him slightly stronger. He’s nervous. “You have me.”
The weight on my chest softens. “Do I?”
Graeden’s eyes meet mine, and he inhales a slow breath, and his expression remains neutral. “Of course. I will always serve the Starfallen’s crown.”
The lightness within my chest dies. The Crown. Eida. Not me. “The crown has you. And should the Queen who wears it ever need you, she knows where to find you.”
Graeden’s brows furrow. He opens his lips to respond, but instead thunder splits through the air outside. We lurch forward, and I scramble to the window. The sky flashes in a colorful array, and the Well of Eida pulses wildly.
The Starfallen have returned.
Almost. Because you can never really forget the moment when death’s cold veil claws at your body—greedy and unyielding. A monster hellbent on claiming you as his. Worse than the chill of death, though, is the inability to forget the excruciating surge of power that stole me from his grasp.
I sink a little deeper into the iron tub. Inhaling, I draw in the sharp scent of pine, the subtle tang of lemon. It sweeps through the cracks within me, the resigned void that this is my life. I am the Queen of Eida.
The lukewarm bathwater brushes my chin but does nothing to stave off the chill from the memory of that night. I lift my fingers from the water and ignite a subtle spark at my fingertips before letting it burn out.
My thoughts focus on a wildfire that once ravished the woods near Bridgewick. The spark lights again, and I flourish my hand, sending a wave of magic over the water’s surface. I close my eyes as the water warms. It peels away the tension in my shoulders and threads a vein of ease through my back. I sigh.
I’ve bathed more in the past eight weeks since becoming the Starfallen queen than all my time in Eida. Each night I return to the Troll King’s cottage—my cottage—to find the iron tub full and steaming. I flick at the still water and the spray skitters over its surface. My chest tightens, washing away the ease the warm water had brought.
This indomitable, remarkable magic coils against my fingertips. I close my fingers around the sensation. I would gladly have taken the Troll King’s magic, if it hadn’t also forced me to claim his throne—an imprisonment unlike any I’ve had before.
I suck in my lower lip and stare into the water. The ache in my chest pinches, fastening itself around a cavity in my heart I can never seem to fill. The place consistently scraped out by betrayal.
The two people I trusted most in this realm shackled me to it. The heat of anger sent Graeden to ruin the one chance Tib and I had to escape this realm. The chaotic panic, desperation, and the fear lost among the dying led Tib to drive my hand and my dagger into the Troll King’s heart.
Now, I’m trapped here forever. I inhale a shallow breath, and anxiety crackles through my chest. This was never meant to be my life.
Sinking into the water, I exhale everything from my lungs as I submerge. I prefer the subtle burn in my lungs to the constant tightening I’ve felt since I awoke eight weeks ago with the Troll King’s magic—my magic.
It drifts through my veins, a slow cloud wandering lazily. It only took a few moments as I lay on the arena’s blood-soaked ground for the Troll King’s life to drain from his body and his power to flood into mine. It took even less time for his decades worth of knowledge to surge into my mind. A transfer of everything he and his predecessors to the new queen.
Stripping flesh from bones, wielding a sword without a hand, and filling a body with poisons and diseases from the inside. He held the power to blind your enemies or force them to fall in love.
A barrage of death and carnage and deceitful tricks. And as they slowed, the depths of his magic he hardly ever used opened in my mind. Creation of artifacts and windows to memories. Light and air and growth. He held power to bathe the world in darkness and power to cast it out.
No spells or incantations. Just memory. Now, my memories to pull from a shadow of thought into reality.
My head breaks through the water’s surface, and I suck in a breath of crisp air. The onslaught of the Troll King’s power and knowledge had lashed to my core. Pain licked through my body, stronger than any wound I’d ever received.
Inaara’s fire flares within my blood, and I welcome the distraction. Her flames roil, hot and angry, but the magic swaths over my dragon’s anger, a soothing caress. The scalding flames simmer—a balance of fire and ice.
I rest my head on the back of the tub and open my eyes. Ivy crawls across the ceiling, pouring into the room from the open windows. It hangs as a curtain over the walls. I trail its path to the floor-to-ceiling mirror where the vines curl around the mirror’s tarnished edge, choking it.
I drop my gaze to the water, shimmering with my magic’s teal and violet hues. It’s choking me. All of this. A sigh escapes my lips. I don’t want their memories or to be their queen.
I’m not one of them; the Starfallen cursed to live as trolls in Eida. And they see it, too.
The door creaks to my room, and a chambermaid slips in, lugging an urn filled with steaming water. It sloshes over the sides and splatters onto the floor with her swaying gait.
“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” the woman says. Her flat nose spreads wide into her cheeks, her hair a sparse patchwork on top of her head. Boils pockmark her skin. She’s ugly, but then so are all the trolls.
That’s the plague Eifelgard’s Dark Queen cursed them with along with tying their powers to their king’s—now to mine—and locking them away in Eida. No wonder they hate me so—an insurgent wielding their people’s power.
Smothering the thought, I glance at the chambermaid. “No need to apologize.”
The woman dips her fingers into my bath. “I thought it would have chilled more by now.”
I shrug and offer a small smile. Graeden said to let the Starfallen serve me. So, she can bring me bathwater I don’t need and pin my hair up in a plait I’ll undo the moment she leaves the room. They can bring me food and travel daily to the Well of Eida to watch for Caelum.
I bite down against his name. He stole my life when he sacrificed me to the Well of Eida. I am more than ready to return the favor.
The woman pours the scalding water into the bath, but I barely register its heat. Magic gathers against my fingertips again, and my thoughts return to the arena. To Graeden sliding Tib his blade. How Tib wrapped its hilt in my limp hand and then shoved it into the Troll King. I wanted to survive, but not like this.
Inaara’s fire barrels through my body, but it isn’t with anger. My gaze falls to the bathwater, and I frown. Graeden and Tib tried to help me as I lied beneath Death’s blade. I shouldn’t blame them for the aftermath. For shackling me to this realm as the Starfallen Queen when my life has never really been mine. I shouldn’t blame them, but it’s hard to stifle the sting of betrayal when it feels as if they threw me into the Well all over again.
With a deep inhale, I calm the war within my heart. It would be too easy to hate them—too easy to shut them out—but I don’t. I won’t. They’re all I have in this realm.
I blink, my gaze refocusing on the chambermaid. She scowls as she pours another jug of water into the tub, her gaze averted from mine.
The Starfallen can waste their time in service to me if they wish. I see their disgust when they watch me. The envy gleaming in their eyes and their whispers of unworthiness when I cross their paths. They can serve me, but I don’t trust any of them.
“If that is all?” The chambermaid offers a stiff curtsy. I nod, my gaze fixed on my bare knees, ignoring the bitter edge in her voice.
When I stood before the Starfallen people as their new queen, I would have rather died than reign over the people who stole everything from me. To protect them. My throat dries, and I swallow. I would have rather died, but as I wash, I’m grateful I didn’t.
Tib took my disdain and replaced it with something I’ve wished for since Caelum sacrificed me to Eida. Vengeance. My gaze flickers to the window where the Well flashes in the distance. I’m grateful I lived if only for what will come when the Starfallen return with Caelum.
The chambermaid shuffles to the door, her slippered feet a hush against the wood floor. The door creaks, and she disappears behind it.
A quiet murmur echoes beyond the door as it swings closed and latches into place. I glance over my shoulder at the smooth, redwood door that shields me from where Graeden waits, giving me the privacy he never did when we first met. My cheeks flame.
I absorb another moment of warmth and then stand. Hot water trickles down my body, a skin of ice touching the path the water leaves behind. My muscles ache despite the soothing bath. I’d spent the day in Vasa’s woods, dragging threads of memory into existence. I’d cast light into the shadows. Water had dribbled down my fingertips. Vasa’s forest swayed without a breeze. I controlled it all.
Climbing from the iron tub, I snatch a plush towel from my bedpost and dry my skin before slipping into my old fur-lined leggings. A crimson gown spreads over my bed, devouring the opulent blankets. It belongs in the trunk at the foot of my bed with the others. I will never wear such a thing. I’ll never be their queen. I give the monstrosity a sidelong glance before pulling my wool-knit sweater over my head. I inhale the musty scent of age, the faded scent of sweat that reminds me of a simpler time in Eida.
Everything is different now. Me. This room. This realm. My gaze wanders back toward the door. Graeden.
My chest aches, but I smother the feeling. His part in “saving” my life hurts the most. I trusted him. The first person in this fire-ridden realm I trusted, and he shackled me to it. I’d let myself feel things for him when I should have stayed clearly on my side. Fallen warrior and Master.
Pulling my thoughts from Graeden, I saunter toward the open window.
In the past, Starfallen rulers have had an entourage of guards. Others to protect them, take an arrow through the chest for them, and for a single guard, to one day claim the throne as the heir. Like I need someone to protect me. Like I’d trust any Starfallen to do the job.
I’m only now understanding my magic’s full scope, which is varied and wide, but not endless. It’s tied to memory. Mine and the previous generations of Starfallen rulers. Without a memory to draw on, Starfallen magic can do nothing. To pull a memory into reality takes enormous energy, too. When the memory or energy runs out, the Starfallen rulers are left to defend with only a blade and the strength of their arm.
Despite their magic, others still attacked the Starfallen kings. Still killed them just as I did to the Troll King. No other Starfallen ruler ever had a monster to unleash, and never claimed dragonsfire. When my magic depletes, I won’t need a sword or a scythe. There has never been a stronger monster in all the realms—a dragon shifter and Starfallen queen.
I refused the army and yet still walked away with one loyal soldier. Shaking my head, I swing my leg over the windowsill. Graeden’s loyalty isn’t to me, though. It’s to this realm. If he had to choose Eida or me, he wouldn’t hesitate to choose Eida.
I press my lips together. His loyalty runs deep to his people.
As I swing my other leg through the window, I stare into the night’s shadows, retracing the steps I’ve taken many times to sneak out of this very room. Inaara purrs against my chest, ready to unfurl her wings and soar.
Somewhere in the dark night, Tib runs among the Seekers doing what he’s always done and ensuring they live. For a moment, I wonder if I’ll see him tonight. In those first few days of my reign, I found Tib anchored to my side with Graeden.
They stood as my unwanted shadows as I grew accustomed to the Starfallen magic, but Tib soon realized he had more to offer the Seekers left behind in Ghora. My stomach twists as I remember the bitter smile he gave me as he distanced himself. It was for me, he’d said. To protect my realm’s forgotten district.
Frowning, I put the thought from my mind and shift my weight on the wood railing. Before I lower myself to the ground, someone snatches my wrist. I whip around to face Graeden. My gaze snags on his brooding gaze, the way the dim evening light evening darkens his bronze skin.
He wears his loyalty like a shield, though disapproval flashes in his eyes. A Starfallen queen disappearing into the night? I was his slave, his warrior. I was at his mercy, and now he’s at mine.
“You know,” Graeden’s voice is soft, reverent. “You don’t have to sneak out. You’re the queen. You can go wherever you’d like.”
I raise my wrist and flash the soft flesh on the inside at him. The pale brand coils intricately against my skin as bright as the day Graeden gave it to me. “Just not alone, right?”
After I became queen, Graeden told me how his brand against my wrist worked. He’d unfastened the bracers from his own and showed me a similar burn on his arm. I never knew he had one. Their designs were different, but I could feel the leash connecting us through them. With a brush of his fingers, he would always find me.
“I wouldn’t need your brand to track you.”
“And you don’t need to track me at all,” I hiss, betrayal seeping into my tone. “I’m not an animal.”
Graeden flexes his fingers at his side, and his muscles tense. “You are the Starfallen queen. You should not be alone. Especially right now.”
I lower my wrist. Since I became the Starfallen Queen, Graeden hasn’t used the mark he gave me, allowing a master to track his slave. But he could. It’s still there, the magic that links me to him, writhing beneath the brand.
If I knew how to rid myself of the magic that allowed him to find me, I would have done it already.
“I know of the insurrections,” I snap. “Have you forgotten the monster you helped me unleash? Or maybe the immense power you so kindly procured for me? Do you think I can’t stand against them?”
“I think you shouldn’t have to.” Graeden’s voice is calm, but a storm brews in his gaze. “The Starfallen are your people now—all of them. Even the handful who would see you dethroned…”
“So, I should show them mercy?” I ask. “They hate me.”
“They don’t hate you. They fear you. You should try to understand them,” Graeden says. “Maybe try to unite them.”
“I do understand them.” Magic scintillates through the dark violet clouds, mocking me. Reminding me of our curse. I pull my legs back inside and stand to my full height. “The Starfallen have lost their throne to an insurgent. Not only that, but to the very race who cursed and banished them in the first place. They want my blood if only to put the throne back into their hands. They’ll never unite beneath me.”
“So,” Graeden raises a brow. “Can you understand why I don’t want you traveling alone?”
My anger sputters, and I frown. Bloody sands, he’s good.
“Many would rule worse than you if given the chance. Even among the Starfallen. Let me stand with you.”
We fall silent, the void swelling between us with unspoken words. Dropping my gaze, I settle onto the bed. A loose thread sticks out obstinately from my lush quilt. I curl it around my fingers again and again. Anything to avoid Graeden’s eye.
“Where were you going?” His voice softens. He already knows.
“A nightly stroll.”
“You mean to the Well.”
I purse my lips and tie the thread tight around my forefinger. The Starfallen have searched for Caelum within the human realm for weeks. I sent them with enough magic to travel farther from the Well, but it should have run out days ago. My jaw tightens, and I glance toward where the Well flashes in the distance. They must be close to finding him.
When I confront Caelum, he’ll pray to Eida’s beast itself for mercy. He won’t find any in Eida, though.
I’ve visited the Well daily for the past two months. Waiting. It’s done nothing to bring Caelum to me sooner. I release the thread, unbinding my finger. I would have searched for him myself if Eida’s queen wasn’t tethered to her throne. The only Starfallen incapable of even stepping foot outside the troll realm. For what would the Starfallen be without their queen?
Flourishing my wrist, I draw a light into my palms. The sunlight’s memory brushes my skin, potent and close to the surface. It’s easy to pull the strands into reality—the light curls around itself, a small sun in this darkened world. The magic rolls off my skin, cool to the touch.
“Do you think the Starfallen—?” I don’t finish the sentence. The Dark Queen’s curse ensures the Starfallen will return to Eida. If they don’t, it’s because they’re dead.
“The Starfallen are resilient, my Queen. They’ll return.”
My heart flutters at his voice, his tone rough like gravel yet as warm as buttered scones. A tone the fiercest Trader in Eida only uses around me. Graeden once told me he was in my corner, and I could trust him. I believed him, and then he gave Tib the knife that anchored me to Eida. I smother the sensation. “Stop calling me that.”
Graeden lifts a delicate circlet of roots from the side table—the cursed Starfallen queen’s crown. The braided strands weave together, a few buds only days away from blooming. “It’s what you are.”
“What you made me.” I snatch the circlet from his hands and hold it in my lap. I bet with a little force I could snap it in two. “I don’t want this—any of it.”
It’s not a secret. I’ve told Graeden and Tib many times I don’t belong on any throne, let alone this one.
I stare at the window and into the empty night. The circlet slips from my fingers and falls to the floor.
Graeden clears his throat. He keeps his voice low, but it doesn’t waver. “I would do it again,” he says. “If it meant saving your life.”
My chest aches, a longing, somber feeling. He didn’t save my life even if he tells himself otherwise. Had he wished to save my life, he would have helped me escape this realm. Graeden’s loyalty has always first been to Eida. If I wasn’t now personally responsible for his realm’s well-being, would he even still stand here at my side?
“Kill or be killed,” Graeden whispers. “That reign is over. Now, Eida desperately needs a change. Abandon your revenge, and you could be the change this world needs.”
“I don’t want to be the change,” I say. “This isn’t my world.”
“Whether you like it or not, it is.” Graeden’s tone sharpens. “You have a responsibility to these people.”
“I don’t want it!”
“It doesn’t matter what you want,” Graeden growls.
Our chests heave between us, our furious glares driving into each other. Graeden’s anger melts first, and he drops his head. “Apologies, Your Majesty. It’s not my place, is it?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “No. It’s not.”
Graeden pinches his lips, but his jaw ticks. He isn’t finished. My gaze roams over his lips, waiting for his restraint to crumble. The subtle scent of woodsmoke fills the space between us, and I don’t hesitate to savor it.
The tension in my chest eases, Graeden’s scent loosening the wound I’ve clung to. For a moment, I’m taken back to the catacombs. The water lapped against our chests, his arms locked around my waist, his lips nearly brushing mine—the fluttering sensation in my stomach, the current that had crackled between us. I inhale again. Inaara can smell the distant attraction even now.
“You could do so much more.” There it is.
My attention flicks to reality, and the respite from my anger dissolves. “More? I’ve already ended the games in the arena.”
How can he ask for more? I never asked for this responsibility. It’s because of Graeden, I almost died in the arena. It’s because of him and Tib I now carry this unwanted mantle. They should feel so lucky with what I’ve changed in only two months.
“And you think that’s enough?’ Graeden asks.
“It’s more than anyone else has ever done.”
Graeden steps toward me, casting me in his shadow. “You’re not everyone else. Besides, with that change, people overrun this realm. We have thousands and not nearly enough resources. Seekers and Fallen starve every day.”
My stomach twists. He’s right about it all. I didn’t need to think twice about shutting down the arena when I awoke as queen. We may live in this cursed realm, but it would no longer be bathed in blood.
Unfortunately, I can’t change the laws the Troll King had written into existence, though.
No Fallen may leave this realm without reaching his or her pardon. No Seeker may leave without claiming their wish through blood. So, now we’re all trapped here.
I swallow against my dry throat. I’ve done to this realm the very thing Graeden and Tib did to me. Still, I can’t bring myself to restore the games.
I tighten my jaw. The fighting hasn’t stopped either. The Fallen have blood inscribed into their very beings. Many carry a vengeance against the Seekers, too. When they cross paths, they usually leave blood in their wake.
“Since when do you care about the Seekers?” I ask.
“Since when do you not?” Graeden counters. “Figure out how to feed them. Build a healing center. Just do something with that power!”
Standing, I tip my chin up to meet Graeden’s gaze and draw my lips into a flat line. “You want more? A healing center will make everything better?”
Exhaustion reels through my limbs, but I roll my shoulders. I’d used nearly my entire magic reserve today. One more spell.
I flourish my hands, and a blue-gray mist cascades from my palms. It pours through the room, skating along the floor and slipping through the window. Shutting my eyes, I travel with the magic as it slithers over Vasa’s soft soil toward the Crossing.
When it reaches the wall separating Ghora and Arautteve, I launch my hands skyward and the magic cuts through the misty clouds. They froth and churn, growing thicker and darker. The earth grumbles beneath our feet, but I don’t release the magic.
“What are you doing?” Graeden stumbles back, his gaze flicking from me to the sky and back. “Ari, stop.”
I don’t. I can’t. I shove all my anger and pain into the last remnants of my magic.
“Ari,” Graeden warns. His eyes widen, locked in the distance.
The sky crackles with magic. A flash of cobalt. A clap of emerald. Though I can’t see it, I feel the twisted tower burst through the ground. It spirals in a coat of obsidian toward the sky. Up. Up. Warped onyx spikes burst from its sides, and shattered glass rains over its peak, fusing together in a single round room.
I drop my hands and the magic vanishes, leaving behind a thin haze. My chest rises and falls with labored breaths. That’s it. There’s hardly any magic left inside me. That’s all my anger, too. Graeden should never have given Tib his dagger that afternoon. He should’ve chosen someone else to rule his precious realm.
I swallow the fatigue, and collapse against the bedpost. My energy is gone, hardly enough left to glare at Graeden. My eyes grow heavy, and I blink hard, refocusing. I’ll need a good night’s rest to replenish my energy. Until it returns, I won’t be able to pull more memories into reality. My gaze slides toward Graeden.
His brows hang low over his eyes, unamused.
I flash him an exhausted smile. “A healing center right where those who need it most can find it.”
No one in Eida has ever found healing. Eida is not a place to find life. It destroys it. I squint at the tower in the distance, twisting to the sky in treacherous spires. It’s unlikely anyone who needs healing can reach its top. I grimace. Anger had laced my magic and warped the tower’s creation. Graeden isn't wrong for wanting more. Just wrong in wanting more from me.
Graeden scowls.
“I’ve already changed things,” I say, but my words carry my fatigue instead of the bite I wish. “No more battles. No more executions. We feed Eida’s beast from those who die naturally rather than those cut down in the arena. Stop pushing me to be the queen you want. I’m not her.”
Pain flickers through my chest, and I glance to the window.
“You could be.”
“I’m a Fallen warrior with dragonsfire in my veins and stolen magic at my fingertips. Not royalty.”
Graeden settles on the bed next to me. “You are the Queen of Eida. You are not so alone as you think you are. You may wield a Fallen’s power as well as a dragon’s and a Starfallen’s, but you do not have to wield it alone. You have an entire realm on their knees for you if you would claim it.”
I dare a glance over my shoulder at him.
He wets his lips, and Inaara can smell the woodsmoke rolling off him slightly stronger. He’s nervous. “You have me.”
The weight on my chest softens. “Do I?”
Graeden’s eyes meet mine, and he inhales a slow breath, and his expression remains neutral. “Of course. I will always serve the Starfallen’s crown.”
The lightness within my chest dies. The Crown. Eida. Not me. “The crown has you. And should the Queen who wears it ever need you, she knows where to find you.”
Graeden’s brows furrow. He opens his lips to respond, but instead thunder splits through the air outside. We lurch forward, and I scramble to the window. The sky flashes in a colorful array, and the Well of Eida pulses wildly.
The Starfallen have returned.
