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

Chapter 14

C HAPTER 14

LOR

A LLUVION —T HE C RYSTAL P ALACE

T hat night, a storm rolls in. I sit on my bed, watching lightning streak across the sky and listening to water crash upon the rocks. Wind howls through the castle, like ghosts slipping through the cracks.

This feels like something unnatural. Something conjured from magic. More evidence of the land suffering and Zerra weakening, but I’m still not sure what any of it really means.

It also complicates things for me. I had planned to wait in my room until just before midnight, reasoning that most of the palace would be asleep. But the ferocity of this phenomenon means everyone is on alert. With any luck, they’ll be too focused to pay much attention to me, but I’m praying this doesn’t mean Bain will stand me up. By the time the sun rises tomorrow, it will be my final day to save Nadir.

An oily green bubble expands in my stomach at the thought. I thought I died already when I lost him once, but losing him again would turn me from a violent scream into a whisper.

When it’s close to midnight, I scoot off the bed as silently as possible and drag out the long rope made of sheets. Due to the rain and thunder, I probably don’t need to bother with stealth. It’s drowning out everything, even my thoughts, which is helpful because I might crack in two if I think too hard about any of this.

I’m wearing light grey leggings and a turquoise sleeveless top I dug out of the closet that stretches with my movements. I’m opting for bare feet since I couldn’t find anything to offer me a proper grip.

Balling the rope under one arm, I tiptoe across the room and ease open the door to my balcony. Wind and rain gust through my hair and clothing. It’s been three seconds, and I’m already soaked.

After dropping the mass on the floor, I dig out one end and secure it to the railing, my hands slick. One thing I learned from my father is how to tie a knot that becomes tighter with pressure. It’s a random memory that surfaced at the most useful time possible. I ignore the tears that blur my eyes because this is a stupid thing to cry over and I really don’t have time right now.

Once I’ve secured the sheet rope, I lean over the railing, looking down as rain drips into my eyes. Despite the tempest, the light in Coral’s tank glows softly against the night. I toss the rope over the edge and watch as it tumbles down, hoping I made it long enough. I breathe a sigh of relief when it hits the lower level with a thump.

Everything is wet and slippery, but I push myself up to straddle the railing, gripping it so tightly my hands ache. I quickly glance back at the door, but it’s inconceivable that they could hear anything over this ruckus.

Turning back, I study the churning water and jagged rocks as my stomach lurches. A loud clap of thunder booms across the sky, nearly causing me to lose my balance. My vision spins with vertigo as a cold sweat breaks out at the back of my neck.

Leaning forward, I grab my makeshift rope and heave myself off the side, clinging to it with all my strength. Using the knots I tied along its length, I ease myself down slowly, passing darkened windows and praying no one turns on a lamp to find me dangling outside their window like a fool.

Rain lashes against me, the wind buffeting me from side to side. My rope sways like a pendulum as my stomach climbs up my throat. I grip it with my hands and feet, the wet fabric starting to chafe my skin.

This reminds me all too much of the Trials, dangling on a rope over an ocean of sea monsters or maybe hugging to that narrow beam during the gauntlet, nearly falling to my death.

I shake it off. I have things to accomplish.

I don’t have time to indulge in my trauma.

Maybe I’ll have that luxury when this is over, but not today. Nadir needs me.

Mercifully, I go unnoticed as I shimmy to the bottom and drop onto the puddled balcony with a slap. Once I’m safely standing, I peer over the edge again, thankful I didn’t end up as food for the churning ocean.

The balcony sits off a small room lined with bookshelves, and I tiptoe across it and ease the door open, leaving a trail of wet footprints. I wipe them on a rug near the door before I poke my head into the quiet hallway, looking left and right, scanning for guards. If I’d had more time, I would have made an effort to understand the details of Cyan’s security, but the clock on Nadir’s life is winding down and this is yet another luxury I can’t afford.

Thankfully, they seem occupied with the storm, so maybe it did me a favor.

Recognizing the hall as the same one we walked down previously, I turn left and set off perched on my tiptoes so I don’t make a sound. Even with the storm’s cacophony, the instinct to keep quiet is impossible to ignore.

I pray again that Bain keeps up his end of our meeting.

I enter the throne room to find everything cast in a soft blue glow from the massive water tank. The air is still, suggesting some type of barrier must be in place to keep the wind and rain out.

My breath expands with relief when I see Bain staring up at Coral with his hands clasped behind his back.

I scurry towards him, and he turns at my approach.

“Lor,” he says warmly, giving me a kind smile, and guilt twists in my chest. But I won’t hurt him or anyone else. I just need to talk to Coral. Surely that isn’t a crime. I ignore the reproving voice reminding me that I also plan to rob Cyan if I get the information I need .

“Hi,” I say. “We ready?”

Bain’s eyebrows furrow. “You’re sure you can talk to her?”

“I’m sure,” I say.

I’m not completely sure, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He scans me up and down, his eyebrows crumpling.

“Why are you wet?”

He didn’t ask who I was earlier, which is curious. He had to have seen West and North trailing me. He saw me with Cyan. Either he doesn’t care, or he’s oblivious. If it’s the second, I probably should keep my current not-so-trusting relationship with his son to myself.

“Just went for a walk,” I say, tugging a dripping piece of hair out of my eyes.

“In this weather?”

“Got caught in it. Had to run back.”

“So late?”

Gods. How many questions is he going to ask?

“Was killing some time before our meeting. Should we talk to Coral now?”

He nods, a light sparking in his eyes at my deflection. He really wants this, and I am a terrible person for taking advantage of his hope.

“Come with me.”

He turns, and we make our way around until we reach a door. Bain swings it open, revealing a curved glass tunnel that burrows into the center of the tank.

He gestures for me to follow. It feels like I’m walking straight through the ocean, thanks to the surrounding wall of fish and sea life teeming with color .

We walk towards another door, and then Bain stops, pulling a key from his pocket. He inserts the end into an ornate keyhole and then twists. With a soft whoosh, the water around Coral swirls and churns into a cyclone before it drains away.

When the water is gone, Bain opens the second door and I enter the massive chamber formed by a high wall of rippling waves.

“Can I touch it?” I ask, staring at the water, and Bain nods.

“Yes.”

I thrust my hand through the surface, marveling at how it remains upright. At once, a dark shape charges towards me, and I scream, yanking my fingers away, just as it comes to an abrupt halt.

“But I wouldn’t,” Bain adds, and I scowl.

Floating on the other side is the same type of creature Atlas used in the trivia challenge. The same mottled blue skin and nest of black hair and sharp, very sharp teeth. It snarls at me as I stare at it with my wet hand clutched to my chest. I think of how I punched its friend when I rescued Marici and hope these things can’t gossip with one another across the miles.

“Can it get to us?” I ask, eyeing it warily.

“ She cannot,” Bain says pointedly. “But don’t worry, she’s mostly harmless.”

I snort out a laugh. It’s very obvious she is not harmless.

I keep the creature in my peripheral vision. She’s staring at me like she desperately wants a bite. Then I head towards Bain, hiding behind him like a shield.

Finally, I take in the sight of Coral. She stretches over my head by several stories, shimmering in the soft light. Thousands upon thousands of tiny crevices make up her height. Her entire structure moves and shifts like she’s alive.

“She’s stunning,” I say. Every Artefact has its own type of beauty, but I can see why Bain thinks his girl is just a little more.

“She is,” he says proudly, laying a gentle hand against her. “How are you?” he asks Coral, pausing as though he expects an answer.

Then he gestures to me. “Whenever you’re ready. We shouldn’t linger here too long. I’m not supposed to let you in here, and . . .”

He doesn’t finish the thought.

“Of course,” I say, and then, wasting no more time, I also lay a hand on her.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

I wait, knowing it always takes a few seconds.

“It’s Lor. The Heart Queen.”

They all seem to know who I am.

That’s when I’m sucked into that same shapeless void. Only this time, I’m surrounded by rippling blue waves. There’s no up or down, just an endless stretch of nothing.

Heart Queen. Welcome.

My chest loosens. None of this has been a fluke. This is my purpose. These Artefacts talk to me .

You have finally come.

“Were you expecting me?”

There’s a long pause before Coral answers.

Yes .

“Why?”

You must fulfill your destiny, Heart Queen.

Those words send a shiver creeping over my scalp. “What destiny?”

To save the Queendom of Heart.

Pressure wells in the center of my chest. Part of me understood this would be asked of me, but to hear it confirmed feels like another stack of bricks cemented to my shoulders.

“I’m supposed to save it?”

Surely you understand that by now. Why else do you think we’ve been helping you?

“ ‘We’? As in the other Artefacts?”

Yes.

“Why?”

It could have all been so much worse.

I blink. “What could have?”

Coral pauses for several seconds, almost as if she’s gathering herself.

It has always been a condition of Imperial magic that should a ruler attempt to seize power for themselves, they would lose it all.

I wait for her to continue, understanding she’s about to open another door that can never be closed.

But that is our condition. One we decided at the beginning to prevent endless years of bloodshed. That threat was enough to keep hundreds of rulers in line, save a few over the millennia, but we handled those with little trouble.

I pause, sure I’m about to hear more about my grandmother.

When an unascended Primary attempts to seize power, the magic does react, becoming erratic and wild and difficult to control. As I said, we were able to smooth over previous incidents, but not on the day Serce tried to steal the crown. With her, there was too much power to contain.

It takes a moment for me to understand what she’s saying. Out of precaution, they never shared the entire truth.

“Does this have to do with everyone losing their magic?” I ask.

Yes. That night, the Crown felt the magic spinning out of control. It began fraying apart, and it was only a matter of time before it devastated the continent in a permanent way. The Crown told Queen Daedra to slice out a piece of its jewel and pass it to the next Primary. In that way, the transfer would be incomplete and, therefore, the reaction less violent.

Still, your grandmother was strong beyond measure. The magic of Heart has always been very powerful. When the end came, the only way we could save everyone was to direct all the Imperial magic down into the earth as far as we could and then seal it off to prevent a chain reaction across every realm. It was the best we could do.

I press a hand to my chest, remembering when the Staff revealed what happened that day. My throat knots, recalling the way my grandfather wept over my mother when they sent her away to save her life.

We also hid the Heart Crown in a place where no one but its true owner would ever find it.

I nod at those words because that makes sense. Nadir had been sure only my magic would free it. Only I would have been able to feel that tug towards it.

Once we felt the worst danger had passed, we returned the magic to the other realms, but Heart was not yet stable enough. As your mother matured, it was still too volatile, and so we waited. When she gave birth to three children many years later, we had just enough control to bestow the first threads onto you and your siblings. And then we chose one to become the Primary.

I shake my head. Finally, all of these pieces are starting to fall into place. For the first time since I arrived in Aphelion, I feel like a fog is lifting.

“I’m still not sure I’m following. Can I bring the magic back?”

You’ve already started it, Heart Queen. Why do you think the roses bloomed for you? Why do you think you were the only one who could find the Crown?

“How do I do that?”

We cannot release all the magic into Heart until you ascend and take your throne. Only then can your queendom ever be whole.

I consider that statement. That has always been my goal. But the Empyrium want me to become Zerra.

“Can someone else do it?” I ask.

Not unless you give birth to a new Primary.

“I can’t just give it to someone else?”

It’s then I realize Coral said they bestowed the first threads of Heart magic onto my siblings. Willow, too?

“What about my sister? What if I died? ”

Your brother’s and sister’s destinies lie elsewhere. There is no one else. It must be you or someone born of you.

“What happens if I don’t?” My fist clenches against the rough surface of the Artefact, bracing for the answer.

Then we will have no choice but to disperse the magic of Heart throughout the continent, allowing it to meld with the power of the other realms. The Crown will crumble to dust, its magic lost forever, and Heart and its people will become only a memory. The longer we delay, the harder it becomes. We are running out of time. You must act soon.

I swallow hard.

There can be no other, Heart Queen. We are here at your disposal.

“Why are you helping me?”

Our job has always been to protect Ouranos’s magic, and we do not hold you responsible for your grandmother’s mistakes.

My throat knots up at those words. Why am I getting emotional over the sentiments of a giant enchanted object? Though, it’s clear they’re so much more than that.

While the continent can exist without the magic of Heart, Ouranos was created with seven realms, and it is our desire to see it restored.

My tongue feels numb, and a pinch shoots between my eyebrows as more pieces lock into place. Technically, my existence isn’t necessary, and the Empyrium have other plans for me. If I don’t take the Heart Crown, then they all die, and if I don’t take the place of Zerra, then all of Ouranos is in danger.

The knowledge makes me feel both disposable and indispensable in the same breath.

Regardless, I came here to get my mate back. That is my first task. Then I’ll figure out the rest. Or go down trying, I guess.

“I need the ark of Alluvion. I can’t accomplish any of this without the ark. Do you know where it is?” I ask. When I schemed to talk to Coral, I only wanted to ask about the ark. I’ve already received so much more than I could have imagined, but I’m praying she knows where to find it.

I can show you.

“You would do that?” I breathe, almost ready to collapse in relief.

If that’s what you require. My king does not need or use it.

“Please, tell me where it is.”

The scene around me melts away and then I’m looking at the throne from a different angle. The perspective shifts, zeroing in on one of the tide pools inset into the floor. I’m frantically studying the gently rippling surface when something glints in the light, and there I see it—the sparkle of virulence nestled between the rocks and coral.

Then I’m flung from the scene and find myself standing inside Coral’s tank.

I spin around to find Bain watching me.

“What happened? You were in a trance,” he says. “Did she speak to you?”

“Yes,” I say, taking in his hopeful expression.

“What did she say?”

He’s looking at me with such desperation that I need to tell him something. I didn’t get a chance to ask for a message.

“She said . . . you take very good care of her and to tell you thank you.”

“Oh,” he says, his posture straightening. “Well, that’s very nice.”

“I have to go,” I say. “Thanks for this.”

Then I start running.

“Wait!” Bain calls after me. “Where are you going?”

I barrel down the tunnel and into the throne room. About two dozen pools circle the perimeter, but I can’t tell which one Coral showed me—they all look kind of the same. I run between them, hoping a memory will spark.

Bain follows behind me as I spiral into panic, shoving everything I just learned into a pocket of my mind to deal with later. I need to find the ark and get out of here. “What are you doing?” he demands over and over as I continue to ignore him. “You cannot touch these!”

I drop into a pool, plunging my hands between the stones and coral. They scrape at my hands and knees, leaving hairline cuts. After I’m sure the ark isn’t there, I stand up and run to the next.

“Stop this,” Bain says, his voice taking on a desperate edge. “These are sacred!”

I plunge into the next one, splashing in the shallow water, hunting, searching in the sand and rocks. “Where is it?!”

“Where is what?” Bain asks. “If you don’t stop this, I’ll call the guards.”

That gets my attention.

“No, you can’t,” I say, grabbing him by the shoulders with my dripping hands. “Just give me another minute. Coral wanted me to do this.”

It’s not a lie. She did tell me where the ark was hiding.

“Did she?”

“Yes,” I say, running for the next pool, scattering crabs when my feet hit the sand. They nibble on my bare toes, and I hope they’re not toxic or something. My fingers bleed, and I wince at the sting of salt water while red clouds billow under the surface. Thunder booms overhead, setting my already stretched nerves on edge. When I was speaking to Coral, the entire world melted away, and I completely forgot about the storm.

Where is it?

Still nothing. With only a few pools left to search, I’m growing desperate. What if Coral was wrong? What if Cyan moved it? What if she was lying to me?

When I reach the next pool, my memory clicks, sure I recognize that pile with a long oval-shaped rock balancing on top. With a cry, I drop down to shift the stones, and then there it is. The ark lies half-buried in the sand, sparkling in the dimness.

“I found it!” I cry.

“Found what?” Bain asks, bending over with his hands pressed to his knees.

“This is what Coral wanted.”

Bain squints at it. “What is it?”

“It’s . . .” I’m not sure how to answer, and a lie fails to materialize. “It’s nothing.”

I jump up, trying to wipe the wet sand off its surface.

“Thank you for your help. I have to go now.”

I leap out of the pool, and without another word, I run for the door, hoping I won’t be spotted on my way to an exit.

But then a body steps into the doorway and I slide to a stop, my wet feet squeaking against the smooth tiles. Cyan, the Alluvion King, stands before me, his arms folded and his head cocked, a sliver of moonlight illuminating his dark blue hair and a pale cheekbone.

“Going somewhere, Lor?”