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

Chapter 22

C HAPTER 22

GAbrIEL

A PHELION —P RESENT D AY

T his place has gone to hell. Everything has spun out of control between riots in the streets and the palace falling to pieces. Smoke hangs in the air and the sounds of mild explosions have become a part of Aphelion’s daily backdrop.

Through it all, my brothers continue to search for Atlas, sending reports to me regularly. Atlas is a royal who has never had to fear for his life. While he learned how to wield a sword with proficiency, my brothers were trained nearly to the point of death in every art of war imaginable, including tracking down an escaped prisoner. Since his magic is mostly ineffective against them, especially as a group, it’s only a matter of time before they close in on our former king. I pray daily for news, but I haven’t yet decided if his capture will come as a relief or simply another burden.

Without my brothers here, almost everyone around me is an incompetent fool.

“Gabe,” Tyr says softly from where he sits in a chair under the window. We’re in the king’s study. I’m so used to referring to it as Atlas’s, but is it really Tyr’s? I’ve envisioned this day so many times, but nestled in that murky fantasy was the idea Tyr would rise up and take his place as king.

But so far, he remains an empty shell, intent on staring at the wall, and I’m not sure what to do. I don’t blame him for this state. Atlas caused this, and I shouldn’t expect anything from Tyr. He doesn’t owe us anything.

The heads of all of the twenty-four districts sit around the table I had brought in because Tyr refuses to enter the council chamber. Though he hasn’t explicitly said so, I think it’s a place of too many painful memories and the last thing he remembers from when he was still a king. No one hears his soft plea because these peacocks are all too busy arguing with one another.

“Are you okay?” he asks me so softly that I barely hear the words, only see the shape he forms with his mouth. My heart feels like lead in my chest. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to help put him back together. He needs a better man than I could ever be. He needs a different purpose.

“I’m fine,” I say, gruffer than I intend. None of this is his fault, and I know that. I’ve always known that, and despite playing witness to my every shortcoming, he’s never judged me for who I am .

I watch the High Fae surrounding the table. They include Commander Cornelius Heulfryn of the most affluent Twenty-Fourth District, whose daughter is currently making my life hell, down to the head of the First District, where the more modest citizens of Aphelion live, though their stations are far above those of the low fae. Currently, everyone is arguing about the leadership of the kingdom.

According to Tyr, the Mirror sat silent when he stood before it for two hours yesterday while they all watched. Something tells me he wasn’t entirely forthright about that but isn’t ready to discuss his future. I can’t blame him for that either.

By rights, Tyr has always been the king, and there should be no question of who should lead. The district heads claim Tyr isn’t fit to rule in this state, and it’s hard to argue with them. They can’t force him to descend, but they can question his leadership. The Artefacts’ role is to decide who is the most fit to rule, but their choices are sometimes imperfect. I assume it’s because their vision is limited and even they can’t know the future.

My gaze wanders to the streets, where I hear the distant crash of the ongoing riots. Glass shattering and panicked screams. The sounds and the fighting swell and ebb with each passing day. Just when I think things might have finally calmed down, something happens to revive them anew. Ash hangs perpetually in the air, clouding the blue sky, and the ocean is a dark blot, littered with charred wood, clothing . . . and invariably, more bodies than I care to think about.

What none of these Fae in this room understand is that if Tyr isn’t meant to rule, then that dubious honor belongs to someone else. And I’d stake my life on the fact that someone is right for the role.

Someone who the Mirror already chose years ago, dooming us all to this fate.

Someone who not a single person in this room would approve of.

The door to the study pops open, and Hylene slides through the gap. Every eye in the room draws her way, a few sentences cutting off mid-complaint. It’s easy to understand why. There’s something about her that garners attention wherever she goes. She might be the only person within spitting distance with more than two brain cells to rub together.

After the events of Tyr’s reveal and Lor and Nadir’s capture, Hylene remained in the palace. She explained that she’d been helping them by getting herself invited to the bonding and keeping an eye out while they snuck into the throne room. Thankfully, the Aurora King’s soldiers only knocked her out and didn’t inflict any permanent damage when they overpowered her.

“Don’t mind me,” she says as she saunters down the side of the room. She’s wearing Aphelion gold, and the contrast with her fiery hair makes it look like the sun itself is walking through our midst. The bodice is cut scandalously low, showing off her rounded breasts, fitting snugly to her curvy hips. I shouldn’t be thinking about my desires at a time like this, but they have a mind of their own. “Just came to see what all the screaming is about. I’m sure it’s positively riveting .”

Several eyes in the room narrow as they try to work out if they’ve all just been insulted .

She gives me a small wave before bending down to peck Tyr on the cheek. Inexplicably, the two have bonded. She has a quiet way of sitting beside him in a manner he seems to need and appreciate. I even heard him laugh the other day, a sound that made my heart almost crack in my chest. I can’t remember the last time I heard Tyr laugh.

“Someone needs to be in charge,” says a male High Fae who rules over one of the middling districts. I truly can’t keep them all straight. This was something Atlas was a master at. He knew them all by name, who their bonded partners were, who their children were. I tuned it all out, thinking that none of this would ever be my problem. Joke’s on me, I suppose.

“Well, it’s not going to be you ,” a female across the table says.

“I didn’t say that it was,” he replies through gritted teeth, and then the conversation erupts again, voices clashing and flying as they vie for the upper hand.

I have no idea how to fix this, what answers to give them, or how to solve any of it. Someone does need to be in charge, and right now, it appears to be me, which isn’t doing anyone any favors. I drop into my chair at the head of the table and rub my temples, a stabbing pain building behind my eyes. I can’t seem to shake this headache.

My gaze slides to Tyr, who watches with his hands on the armrests, his face expressionless. Then I turn to Hylene, who sits on the sofa with her legs crossed and miles of bronzed flesh exposed by the slit in her dress. Gods, I need to get a grip.

I let everyone argue for another minute as I try to formulate a plan. What do I want? To get them to stop fighting. None of them seem concerned enough that Atlas has run. I haven’t had any luck figuring out how he escaped or who might have helped him. Was it someone in this room, hoping to seize power in a void?

A sharp clap draws my attention, and now Hylene is standing. “Everyone!” she says, her voice threaded with command. “I think that’s quite enough!”

She snaps her fingers, and finally, the arguing dies down. “I think that’s enough . . . ruling for today. Hmm? I’ve arranged drinks and food for everyone in the salon.”

There are several blinks around the table and several wary exchanged glances. No one seems to know what to do.

“Everyone,” Hylene says. “Please. Let’s take a break and remember you all want what’s best for your kingdom. There’s no need for all this fighting, is there?”

She sweeps towards the door, and like they’ve all been enchanted, everyone slowly begins to stand.

“I’ve arranged for some added surprises,” she says with a smile, and her eyes glitter, making it clear what she means. “This is all very stressful, and you all deserve a little relief.”

She greets everyone by name as they exit. I almost pass out when I hear several of them thanking her. When the last one departs, she slams the door and leans against it, wiping her hand across her brow.

“Whew, I thought they would never leave.”

“How did you just do that?” I ask. “I’ve been trying to get them to leave for two hours.”

She shrugs her shoulders and smooths down her hair. “They can keep arguing in circles until they all drop dead, but until the Mirror decides what it wants, there’s nothing we can do. In the meantime, they’ll just have to accept that you’re in charge.”

“Tyr is in charge,” I say, not sure why I’m so determined to cling to this fallacy.

“Of course. You’re in charge as Tyr’s proxy.”

I narrow my eyes, but she presses my hand to her heart.

“It’s okay,” she says, and something loosens in my chest. “I know you want only what’s best for him.”

We both turn to Tyr, who watches us, still with that dispassionate expression. I wish I could wake him up, but I don’t even know where to begin. Hylene lets go of my hand and moves in front of Tyr.

“How are you?” she asks, placing her hands on the sides of his chair before she sinks down. “Do you want to go to bed?”

Tyr nods slowly, and I hold in my sigh. This is all he does. Sleeps and sits there staring into nothing. This is all he’s done for decades, and I know he’s dealing with his personal demons, but the cuffs are off, and I can’t rein in my disappointment that removing them did absolutely nothing. I need to be patient. He wore them for a century. I can’t expect him to return to who he was in an instant.

“Let’s go,” Hylene says, helping Tyr stand. She takes small steps as he slowly shuffles along next to her. He looks like a young man, but he might as well be dead for all it matters. Though his heart still beats, Atlas killed him nonetheless. I fear I’ll never get him back.

Hylene and Tyr leave the room, and I draw a deep breath before deciding to follow. Hylene speaks quietly as I trail behind until we reach the king’s suite. Guards flank the massive golden doors and a High Fae female moves to draw the left one open as we approach. Hylene thanks her, and I swear the soldier nearly passes out as she gives Hylene an adoring look. This woman has an effect on everyone.

We settle Tyr in his bed, and he’s asleep before we can even finish closing the curtains.

I stare at where he lies, at the brittle ashen hair that spreads over his pillow, wondering if this is all he’ll ever be. Hylene moves to stand next to me and leans against my side. She’s warm and soft, and my hand fists before I look down at her.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says.

“I don’t think it is.”

“It will be. Whatever is on the other side of this might not look exactly as you envisioned, but everything will work out. One way or another.”

I run a hand down my face. “You really believe that?”

“I know it seems hopeless right now, but we’ll figure this out.”

“We?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I’m in the middle of this now, and I like to see my way to the end of things.”

She blinks up at me with those big green eyes, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, something stirs in the hollowed-out recesses of my heart.

Gods, this is truly the last fucking thing I need right now.