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

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Cypherion

It smelled like…meat?

Like something smokey, maybe. My head spun as the scent pushed in, and I pried my eyes open.

I was on my side, facing a glass of water. Condensation dripped slowly to the nightstand, everything else blurring around it. Spirits, why was it so hot?

Kicking off the soft blanket draped over me, I pushed myself upright with a groan. The room wavered. That was what I got for two weeks of riding non-stop from Valyn. But it had taken Vale and me three to get to Lumin before we’d headed to capital, and that was without the extra journey to the outposts.

Nothing on Ambrisk could have made me stop.

Not with her?—

A harsh breath sliced through my chest. You go, and then come back for me.

I would. I fucking would.

Because she’d willingly returned to her captor after learning he held the answers to both repairing her sessions and finding Valyrie’s emblem. After that fateful night in the Valyn archives, she’d volunteered to stay with Titus.

And I’d tear the Fates from the skies to get her back.

But first…where was I?

Light peeked around tightly pulled curtains, but it was early, judging by the pale glow. A second small bed sat on the opposite side of the nightstand, but the sheets were nearly untouched, like someone had either made it hurriedly or not fully slept. The light blue walls and soft linens seemed oddly comfortable, soothing my panic a little more.

My scythe, swords, and daggers were respectfully laid on the dresser across from the bed. I swiped up the dripping water glass and crossed to inspect them. My throat was thick as I drank; I must have slept for a while.

“All in order,” I muttered. Every weapon was accounted for.

How in the damn Spirits had I gotten here? Everything before I passed out was a blur of riding through jungle and sand.

Stretching out my stiff limbs, I crept around the other side of the room and picked through the belongings. A nondescript pack and a cloak draped across a chair. Whoever it belonged to wouldn’t need that in this oppressive heat. Those journals though?—

Lucidius’s.

Malakai .

Something nagged at my brain at his name. Something I was supposed to remember. I’d seen him, Tolek, and Ophelia before I’d passed out?—

Get your cousin out of here .

Cousin.

“Holy fucking spirits.” I sank against the wall, head falling back with a dull thud.

Cousin. The fae—I assumed that was Queen Ritalia—had spat that word at Malakai. About me .

My pulse beat against my skin, blood rushing in my ears.

“Malakai is my cousin?” I whispered to myself, evaluating his belongings stacked in the corner.

I listened to the words as if someone else had said them. Waited for them to hit me with the blunt force of a dulled blade. But nothing happened—nothing beyond foggy confusion.

“She had to be lying.”

It was a question I’d asked my entire life—who was my father? One my mother had refused to answer. One I’d let tear me apart—hold me back. And yet when a possible answer was dangled before me, I didn’t feel any different besides the initial shock.

My heart was too shredded, my nerves frayed and anger hot in my gut.

How in the Angel’s bloody realm could it be possible?

With a deep breath, I pushed off the wall and followed that smokey scent down the stairs to find the people who would likely be able to make sense of it all.

“What does she mean she suspected?” The question was whispered, but even from the top landing, Ophelia’s sharp voice was recognizable.

“I don’t know,” Malakai snapped. “I wrote back.”

“To not tell him?—”

A stair creaked beneath me, and Rina’s softer question sliced off.

I shouldn’t have expected anything else from my nosy group of friends. But where I’d anticipated feeling crowded from the attention, a warmth spread through my chest instead. One that gave me enough confidence to descend the staircase and round the corner into what appeared to be both a sitting room and dining room.

The windows were open, the ocean softly rolling in the distance. Ophelia, Santorina, Malakai, and Tolek sat on plush sofas in the center of the cozy space. Mila and Lyria were at the rectangular dining table facing the others.

But all eyes in this low-ceilinged room turned toward me.

I found Malakai, and he pushed to his feet as I said the only thing I could think of, “Akalain’s brother—the one who died years ago—your uncle…he was my father.”

Malakai swallowed. “Looks like he was.”

I blew out a breath, and strode to the couch, dropping between the seat he’d vacated and Santorina, across from Ophelia and Tolek. Everyone in the room seemed to sag with relief, as if they feared I’d hole up in my room upstairs.

It wasn’t a far cry from what I’d done in the past. Whenever they’d tried to push me on my father or my heritage, I’d brushed it off.

“How do you feel?” Ophelia asked, leaning forward. I had a feeling Tolek’s arm around her waist was the only thing keeping her seated.

I shrugged. “The same.”

“What do you mean?” Santorina asked, and I faced her.

“I mean, I’ve lived this long without knowing.”

“CK, you’ve been wanting to find this answer for a while,” Tolek said.

“Yeah.” I sank back into the cushions and accepted if I didn’t talk about this, they’d never let it go. “But I think I was only using it as an excuse. I’m the Mystique Second now, whether I like it or not.” I raised my brows at Ophelia, who gave a smug smirk in return. “And I know I said I didn’t think I was fit for it because I didn’t know who my father was, but I accepted anyway. Now I know, and I feel…the same.”

Actually, I was hollow inside, but that wasn’t due to the revelation. It was about who wasn’t here for it.

“Are you keeping the title?” Malakai asked.

I pretended not to notice the way Ophelia sat up straighter. “I am,” I confirmed. “I still don’t think I’m right for it, but…I’ll keep it. I want it.”

Surprisingly, none of that was difficult to admit. Like a band had snapped around my reservations the past few weeks after squaring off against the Starsearcher Chancellor and learning the truth of his own rule.

“Good,” Mila said. Admiration shone in her eyes.

“You realize what this means, Cypherion?” Jezebel asked as she and Erista entered from what I assumed was the kitchen, carrying trays laden with breakfast.

That smokey scent hit me again, my stomach grumbling as they set them on the dining table, but I asked, “What?”

“You,” Jez said, swiping up a berry and popping it in her mouth, “are a full Mystique Warrior.”

The sentiment settled over the room, slipping between us all like the remnants of a lightning storm.

“I guess I am.” And the electricity sparked through my blood, fueling a sense of belonging.

Malakai’s mother, Akalain Deneski, had been chosen for Lucidius because her family had a strong Mystique heritage, and a Revered needed power. But her older brother—my father —had been the Deneski heir.

I’d heard of him for years. He was supposedly noble and brave, cunning and charming.

“Why didn’t he ever show up?” I asked, deflating a bit. And as I said it, I only looked at Malakai and Tolek. Something in me felt like that question was only for us.

“He might not have known,” Malakai offered. “I wrote to my mother as soon as we got back from the isle last night.”

The isle. Right. Where the fae queen was. How had she even known the truth? There was still a chance she was lying.

Spirits, my head was spinning again. My crisis with my father didn’t matter amid all of that.

But Malakai handed me a wrinkled piece of parchment.

Mali,

I wish I could say I am as surprised as you are, but a piece of me always suspected this might be true ? —

“She knew?” I gaped at my friends.

“And didn’t want to share, apparently.” Ophelia scowled as she picked at a loose thread on the couch. Tolek rubbed a hand down her arm as if this was a conversation they’d already hashed out.

“Keep reading,” Malakai instructed. Even his voice was icy, though.

Cypherion’s mother lived in Palerman many years ago, well before any of you were born. She and my brother were crazy about each other, though I thought they lost contact long before she would have had Cypherion.

I didn’t know she returned until after you and Cypherion became friends, given her condition. She never came around to tell any of us she was back. It was only upon meeting Cypherion for the first time and hearing his last name that I guessed who he was related to.

Still, I thought it might be a relative. It isn’t uncommon for warrior families to migrate to the same cities, as you know. But the more he came around, the less I could deny it.

And the older he gets, the more he is the spitting image of Riolan.

My eyes were misty, my throat crowded, but I continued.

He has the Deneski hair and eyes, certainly, but beyond that, he carries himself with the strength and gentleness of heart that made Riolan the warrior he was. He reminds me so of my brother, Mali.

Please tell Cypherion that I am sorry I never told him. I wished to, but it was his mother’s business before my own. The one time I tried to speak with her about it did not end well. Tell him I have kept an eye on her ever since they returned to Palerman, and I will continue to do so as long as we are both here. She is not alone.

And neither is he. If Cypherion wants to take the Deneski name, we are honored to have him .

I exhaled, looking to the ceiling. Everyone was quiet. Waiting. Beside me, Santorina wiped her eyes.

And…fuck. She’d lost both of her parents. Ophelia and Malakai had lost their fathers, though to very different circumstances. And Tolek’s relationship with his parents was…well, I didn’t truly know what to call that. But it made me certain without having to say anything, they understood the weight of this letter in my hand. Of Akalain’s acceptance.

“Can I keep this?” I asked Malakai.

He nodded. “Are you angry?”

“That Akalain didn’t tell me?” I considered. “No. I’m angrier my mother didn’t—couldn’t,” I corrected quickly. It wasn’t my mother’s fault something had addled her mind. “When did Riolan die again?”

“Maybe a decade ago now,” Malakai said, dragging a hand across his jaw as he thought. “I think I was eleven, maybe.”

“I wonder if that’s what did it,” I mumbled.

“Did what?” Ophelia asked, seeming to relax now that I said I wasn’t mad at Akalain.

“Maybe that’s what sent my mother into…” I trailed off. “It’s been about that long.”

Tolek said, “It could’ve been. Maybe she’d been in touch with him or was planning to contact him. I can imagine it would have hurt her to find out.” He shifted closer to Ophelia at the thought.

“Maybe she loved him.” Rina’s voice was small. “If she learned of his death, her heart could have broken.”

Guilt gripped my chest at the thought. Of a heartbreak so deep, it sent my mother into her current state, unable to even care for her son. I’d resented her sometimes for it, though I didn’t want to. Now, I wished I’d known sooner. That I’d understood.

I imagined having Vale ripped away from me permanently, and my mind threatened to free fall the way my mother’s had. Spirits, if she hadn’t told me to come back for her—if she wanted to leave or if something horrible befell her—it would have been easier to give into the void than continue on.

I wished she were here. Everything was less painful with her around, her questions and reflections soothing as I processed.

A flash of what she might be experiencing right now barreled through my head. A cage she’d escaped, slammed shut once more. A master she’d broken free of, wielding her power as if it was his own. And if her readings were still malfunctioning, if she was hurting?—

My fist tightened around the parchment.

At the crinkling I snapped back to the present.

Clearing my throat, I folded the letter and tucked it into the pocket of my leathers. The same dirty pair I’d been wearing for much too long, though everyone had the grace not to tell me they smelled like horse shit, sweat, and dirt.

“I think, more than anything,” I said, “a part of me hoped he was still out there. That he might look for me one day. Now I have this void that I’ll never fill.”

“I’m sorry, Cypherion,” Ophelia said. “But this doesn’t make you anything less.”

I shrugged. “I always suspected my father might have been a Soulguider. Because of the scythe.” The one I found all those years ago in my mother’s attic and had trained with ever since. The only piece I had of him.

I’d never told everyone to whom it belonged—but based on the benign reactions, they’d guessed.

“Riolan was the Master of Communication for Lucidius’s council,” Malakai said. “It’s why I only met him twice. He was always traveling for different negotiations and meetings. Maybe he got the weapon during one of his trips.”

As the only Soulguider in the room, Erista added, “He could have won it as an honor. Sometimes, if foreign warriors perform a service in our territory, they’re rewarded with a scythe.”

My heart inflated a bit. Had my father not only been descended from a powerful Mystique line but assisted another clan in such a meaningful way that he received an accolade? Pride swelled within me at the thought.

“And to make matters brighter,” Tolek added, nodding at Malakai, “you now have a cousin.”

I had a cousin who was already like my brother. And an aunt who had taken me in on more than one occasion when my house was too cold or my mother’s silence too loud. The family that had always been there, by choice.

“Barrett will be thrilled,” Lyria chirped as everyone moved toward the dining table and started piling plates with the steaming breakfast Jezebel and Erista had prepared.

“He and Barrett aren’t related,” Malakai said, almost defensively. “Not by blood at least.”

Jezebel laughed. “You think that will stop Barrett from claiming so?”

Malakai groaned, held falling back to look at the ceiling. “He’s going to be insufferable.”

For the first time in weeks, a reluctant laugh slipped out of me. I grabbed a plate and piled food on, reminding myself I needed fuel to keep going. To get back to Valyn.

Ophelia came up to my elbow, her voice low. “After we’ve eaten, we need to talk about what happened.”

What happened in Starsearcher Territory. Why Vale wasn’t with me.

You go, and then come back for me .

I’ll be back for you, Stargirl .

“We’ll talk while we eat,” I said. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“There’s something I still don’t understand,” Erista said, eyes flitting between Malakai and me. “How did Ritalia know you two are related?”

“Because,” a deep voice drawled from the foyer, and Lancaster strode around the corner, my grip tightening on my plate, “my queen can scent bloodlines.”