Tale of the Heart Queen (Artefacts of Ouranos #4)

Chapter 7

C HAPTER 7

NADIR

T HE E VANESCENCE —Z ERRA’S P ALACE

E verything fucking hurts. I inhale a long, deep breath through my nose as a wave of pain crests into every cell, squeezing my ribs until my bones feel on the verge of collapse.

What’s wrong with me? My eyelids are weighed down, and my limbs feel like they’re filled with lead. Why am I lying on the ground, and why does it feel like stone?

More breaths. In and out. In and out.

In through my nose and out through my mouth.

I’m no stranger to pain. I’ve fought in wars. I’ve sustained injuries that would kill a human and nearly kill a Fae. I’ve been cleaved with knives and swords and been stitched together more times than I can count. But this feels like pain turned inside out. I want to curl into a ball and die.

In and out. In and out.

More deep breaths as I attempt to sort through a haze of turbid thoughts.

What’s the last thing I remember? Lor. My father captured us. There was that strange black smoke, but that was not his magic. That was something else.

I remember a flash of red light, and I remember flying a long distance before my heart seized in my chest.

And then what? Nothing. Just darkness.

Why can’t I move, and where the fuck is Lor?

She left me. My father made it seem like I’d helped him, and like an idiot, I stood there and said nothing. I’d been too stunned to move. She has to know I would never have given her up to that monster, but everyone in her life has betrayed her. Why should she think I’m any different? It took everything for her to learn to trust me, and then my father wiped it away in one sweep.

But I am different. I would travel into the darkest pits of the Underworld to save her, and she knows that. Right? But where is she now? Does my father have her? Is he hurting her?

Why can’t I move ? I’d cry if I had the strength.

Agony ruptures through my bones with every serrated breath. I hold perfectly still, hoping to ease my pain as I listen to my surroundings.

Where am I? Are we back in The Aurora? Why can’t I open my eyes?

A cool breeze ghosts over my skin, loosening some of the tension in my muscles. Something warms my bare feet—what happened to my boots? It feels like sunlight, though I can’t say why exactly.

So I’m not in The Aurora, then. Somewhere else.

I wiggle my fingers, trying to stretch them out, and even that hurts, pain radiating up my arms as I groan.

There’s a soft rustle of fabric near my head, and I scrunch my eyes together before I will them open. The effort is monumental. Staggering. I tow up my lids, dragging them open like pulling up a corroded anchor from the bottom of a frozen sea.

The world before me is a blur of colors, everything smearing together into a shapeless blot. I blink, nearly losing the will to open them again. I repeat the process over and over until they eventually become like well-oiled hinges, and my vision slowly crystallizes into coherence.

Above me are clouds. I think? Or maybe it’s a ceiling painted with clouds. The blue sky curves in an unnatural way, like I’m trapped inside a bubble.

Next, I move my arms and my legs, wincing at the buzz of pain that lances from my fingers to my shoulders. A movement from the corner of my eye summons my attention, and slowly, I twist my neck to be met with a pair of bronzed toes, the nails painted with creamy white, and the feet they’re attached to covered with a fall of soft white fabric.

Lor? My mind forms the word, but my mouth doesn’t move. My tongue is like faded canvas—dry and rough and thick and not much use. The feet move out of my vision, and I sense them walking around me as they circle to my other side. Once again, I perform a colossal feat by swerving my head to follow .

This time, the person bends down, balancing on their toes. A woman, who I’ve never seen before, stares at me. She’s beautiful, with golden blonde hair and bronzed skin framing a pair of striking aquamarine eyes. I want to ask who she is, but the organ inside my mouth sits limply, so I moan. It’s not all that dignified, but it’s all I can muster.

The woman tips her head and then tuts. Something about it irritates me, though I can’t really explain that either. Her expression isn’t one of pity or worry but instead of cold curiosity, which fires a warning in the back of my head. Who is this? Is she working with my father? I’m reminded of the sunlight and reason that can’t be it. He would have taken me back to The Aurora if he’d gotten the chance.

“You are in rough shape,” the woman says. Her voice is musical and beautiful, but if I listen carefully, I swear I can hear venom licking through each syllable. “Your mate really didn’t care at all about your well-being, did she? She just used her magic and”—the woman holds out a hand and springs her fingers out—“poof.”

My mate.

The taste and scent of Lor overcomes my dulled senses. Everything about her paints a picture in my mind. Those deep, dark eyes that see right into me. That soft skin and that mouth she uses to make my skin shiver with a kiss but also to cut me down a peg every chance she gets. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve seen her, but I miss her like a burn singeing a hole straight through my chest. I wish I could speak or sit up or do anything but lie here like a lump of fucking nothing.

The woman tips forward, landing on her hands and knees. She crawls towards me and presses her ear to my chest. All I can do is peer down, helpless to resist or protect myself. She remains there for a few long seconds before she sits back up, settling on her heels.

“It seems your heart is beating normally again. Lucky that.”

My heart? What does she mean again ? Why are my thoughts so jumbled?

The woman hovers over me and smiles. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. That so-called mate of yours doesn’t deserve you, does she? But don’t you worry—Zerra will give you everything you need.”

Zerra? What? She places a hand in the center of my chest, and my skin crawls at the contact. I want to tell her to stop fucking touching me, but I can’t make the words come out.

I blink and feel my eyebrows pulling together.

She shuffles closer and leans down, pressing her lips against mine. I make a sound that’s somewhere between surprise and protest, trying to move away, but she holds me in place with her cold hands pressed against either side of my face. There’s nothing passionate about the kiss. Just the press of lips against mine.

“Hmm,” she says with a sound of satisfaction before she pulls away. “Yes, I can see why she was so fond of you. You’re very pretty. Just like he was.”

I try to shake my head. None of this is making any sense. Why is she referring to Lor in the past tense? What is happening?

Zerra pushes herself up again and then pads around to my other side. I hear the murmur of low voices and the drip of water. A cool, wet cloth lands on my forehead, covering my eyes. I try to shake it away, but I’m too weak.

A finger digs into my bottom lip and pulls it down, making me groan. A moment later, something cold drips on my tongue and slides down, soothing my raw throat. I swallow it because at least I can manage that.

“Next time you wake up, you’ll feel much better,” she says, and her hand—I think it’s hers—caresses my cheek before, once again, everything goes black.