The Myths of Ophelia (The Curse of Ophelia #4)

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Tolek

“You certain about this?” I asked Ophelia when Ritalia, Brystin, and the other fae had all left.

Her stare was locked on the door our friends had disappeared through, and I knew she was worrying about Santorina. What all this Bounty business meant and how we could combat it or embrace it.

Finally, though, she met my gaze, letting a hint of her worry show through the flinch of her brow. “I’m certain about very little right now,” she admitted, and dammit did I want to kiss her and wipe away all those concerns, but she continued. “All I know is I need to feel like I’m doing something . Right now, I feel so out of control. If I can get some sort of command over this situation—secure us a kernel of truth to help figure out what’s going on—I’ll take it.”

Determination and the strength of the Angels burned through those words. Spirits, she was magnificent.

“Spoken as a true queen,” I said, kissing her hand.

She rolled her eyes. “Please, Tolek.”

“Say what you may, but the title does sound nice when used toward you.”

“The only queen we’ve known ruined our lives,” Ophelia countered. “I’m not sure I’d want to be one.”

Fair. “It’s all about the intention. Barrett wears the title of king well.”

Her lips twisted to the side. “Assuming he’s able to get to his coronation,” she reminded me. “I’m worried about him.”

“I’m worried about all of us.”

She laughed, tilting her head back. “This place is impressive.”

“I hate to admit it,” I agreed, following her gaze to the murals adorning the ceiling. More fae cruelty, if I had to guess.

Studying the artwork, Ophelia said, a bit sadly, “They remind me of the ones in the Revered’s Palace.”

I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into me. “What was your favorite back home?”

Absently, Ophelia toyed with the button on my jacket. “I don’t know. I never had enough time to really memorize them.” She was searching through that mind of hers, trying to find a specific recollection from the home we hadn’t seen in months, but with the way her magenta gaze dulled, she came up short.

“There was one in my office I loved,” I said. “It was of a fox hidden in a berry grove.”

Ophelia laughed, and my heart beat faster at the sound. “A berry grove?”

“Odd, right?” I shrugged. “That’s why I liked it. When we get back there, I’ll show you.”

Not if. Because we were returning to the city atop the peaks if it meant my life. Ophelia belonged in the mountains, and I knew she missed them.

We talked about our favorite spots in the Revered’s Palace, ignoring the presence of the fae and all sitting heavily on our shoulders, until finally, the door behind the throne opened. Ritalia and Brystin traipsed back into the audience chamber and stood before the throne.

Ophelia’s persona of Revered instantly slid back up, and she wasted no time reiterating her earlier question. “If not from Lancaster, how do you know about the emblems?”

Ritalia looked to Brystin once before answering, but I couldn’t read that fleeting glance. “I have sources—centuries-old sources—from whom I can decipher secrets.”

What in the fucking Angels did that mean?

“And what do you want with them?” Ophelia pushed, not getting caught up in Ritalia’s twisted words.

“I want them.” Ritalia’s fingers curved around her chalice. “Find those emblems, deliver them to me, and in turn, I will give you the precious information you seek of the gods.”

“I cannot do that,” Ophelia answered, without thought. “I’ve been tasked with finding them for the Angels. I have been tasked with fulfilling this prophecy, this curse. You are not part of it.”

Not that we knew what Ophelia was supposed to do with the emblems, yet.

“You cannot do what they are meant for,” Ritalia said, and we both perked up.

“Why not?” Ophelia asked.

“Because—” Her words cut off in a choke, the queen’s eyes flaring wide.

Ophelia’s eyes lit up, her fingers twitching against her gown. “You know, but you are bound from saying it?”

Ritalia sneered. “Find the items so cleverly hidden. And deliver them to me.”

“They do not belong to the fae ,” Ophelia snarled, patience on the verge of snapping.

“They do not belong on Ambrisk at all.”

And Ophelia’s resolve shattered. “ WHY? ”

Ritalia was silent for a long moment, Brystin’s keen attention bouncing between the queen and the Revered. Swallowing, Ritalia seemed to choose her words carefully as she said, “Make a bargain with me?—”

“Absolutely not,” Ophelia swore, her voice limned with power.

Ritalia went on, “Bargain that once you find what you seek, you will consider my offer.”

Ophelia stewed on that. “What do we receive in return?”

“What do you request?”

“You cannot interfere in warrior matters,” Ophelia answered quickly. “You cannot set foot on our continent, convene with our people, or use your magic to do so. This includes all matters pertaining to the Angels and this task.”

Ritalia picked apart each word, casting another glance to Brystin. Why did she keep deferring to him? After a moment, the queen nodded and looked down at us. “I will not set foot on your continent, convene with your people, or use magic to do so, nor will I interfere in warrior matters. And do not fret; my bargains are more powerful than my hunter’s, laced with a deeper magic. To seal this, all you must do is drink from this chalice.”

My skin tingled. “No. She’s not drinking anything.”

“I give my word there is nothing in here to harm her,” Ritalia swore. “You made an indefinite bargain with my hunter. This is different. With my magic, you must only drink this wine.”

Ophelia strode forward, taking the chalice. We both examined it, but Spirits, we didn’t know what we were looking for.

I found Ophelia’s eyes, and I lifted a brow. We had to trust the magic of the fae being unable to lie if we wanted to get out of here.

With one final glare at the queen and fingers clenching the stem, Ophelia tipped the chalice to her lips.

Damien’s balls, I hated this. My heart rioted as she took one quick swallow, every fucking breath in my lungs tight. Her throat worked over the heady crimson liquid that clearly tasted horrible based on her answering sneer.

Outside the windows, the earth shuddered and lightning cracked. Magic tingled through the air. Ophelia took one last gulp and tossed the chalice aside, metal clattering against marble, but I watched her for three long breaths.

She showed no sign of harm.

Relief loosened the grip on my lungs.

We turned back to Ritalia. Once again, she stood proudly before her throne with Brystin. She lifted her chin, about to speak, but the main entrance to the audience chamber slammed open. The doors bounced against the stone wall with a boom, and the last person I expected to see ran in.

“ Cypherion ?” I shouted.

He was harried as I raced to him. The jaw he usually kept perfectly clean was dusted with auburn scruff, his eyes flying around the room like he didn’t care what or who he walked in on, only that he’d found someone .

Malakai was on his heels, the two of us catching him right as CK’s knees gave out.

“He has her,” he repeated again and again, voice so low and broken. “He has her.”

I met Malakai’s eyes over Cyph’s slumped form, sought out Mila standing in the doorway, and the matching subtle shakes of their heads were all the confirmation I needed. My lungs tightened, air escaping.

Vale had not returned with Cypherion. She was not waiting in the antechamber with the others or the main foyer, was not back in Seawatcher Territory at all.

“Cypherion?” Ophelia asked softly, the queen and her bargain forgotten. “What happened?”

“Titus—” His voice kept cracking, like he’d ridden so hard to get here, he hadn’t slept in days, and now couldn’t force the words that had played on a loop in his mind out of his mouth.

“CK?” I asked, gripping him tighter.

“Star Tied One!” Ritalia’s voice sliced through the commotion, and my attention snapped up, following her venomous stare to…Malakai?

He raised his head, brows scrunching together.

The queen shoved herself forward, nearly stumbling, her diadem nowhere in sight. Mora, Lancaster, and a handful of other fae had raced back to their queen’s side, from where, I didn’t know.

Ritalia’s jaw trembled, but her voice was ice as she looked between Malakai and Cypherion and commanded, “ Get your cousin out of here .”