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

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Ophelia

“Hello, Ophelia,” Lyria said when I found her behind the inn the next morning, dragging a sharpening stone down her sword. As the Master of Weapons and Warfare, she commanded the blades like they were her own limbs.

I dropped onto the step beside her and pulled a piece of rope from my satchel, practicing my knots to the steady sound of her work. “How are you?”

“Good,” she drawled. “Visiting Sapphire?”

A breeze wound through the air, warm with heavy gray clouds darkening the sky. A storm was coming—I only hoped it waited out the one we had planned for tonight.

“Yes, though I wish I had more time to properly fly with her.” My chest twisted at the separation, and I tugged the rope tight, immediately loosening it to start the pattern over. “I hate that she’s hidden, especially since Zanox and Dynaxtar were gone until early this morning.”

Lyria hummed in thought. “Tolek said he’s flown with you.”

“He has,” I said. “As you can guess, he loved it.”

The commander avoided my eyes as she had been her brother’s.

“Lyria,” I whispered, gently touching her elbow. And finally, leaning the sword against the railing, she looked at me. “Is everything okay?”

Those chocolate irises—twin to Tol’s—searched mine and seemed to see straight through me. She sighed. “Should it be?”

And that was all she had to say for me to understand. Lyria wasn’t hiding from us as Tolek feared. She was searching.

“No,” I told her honestly. “No, it does not ever have to be okay. Especially not after everything we’ve done and seen.”

Not with what we were preparing to face tonight.

“How are you doing it?” she asked softly. “Continuing?”

I deflated a bit. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t you?” When I cocked my head, she continued, “Why must you listen to the Angels?”

It was a sacrilegious question almost, but it stuck thick between my ribs. A root winding around the bone—one I was afraid to let grow, but also afraid to pull out.

“I’ve cursed them on many occasions, but there is something within me that cannot stop.” My hands tightened on the rope, and Lyria tracked the motion. “Maybe it’s the Angelcurse, maybe it’s the way my spirit is woven.” I shrugged. “Whatever it is, it’s incessant. It needs answers.”

Lyria gazed down the path winding away into a vineyard in the distance. “Purpose,” she mused, looking a bit sad.

“You could call it that,” I agreed. “I accepted the title as Mystique Revered. I have to keep pushing to make the world better for them.”

For a moment we were quiet, sitting in each other’s company. Echoes of life drifted from inside the inn—our friends and family waking, cooking, scheming.

“You’re good at it, you know,” Lyria finally said. “Leading. You’re an easy person to want to believe in.” Her words stretched out and wrapped tight around my heart. “And I’m happy Tolek has you. Happy he’s had you all these years, in one way or another.” She laughed. “Even happier that the woman he’s with will challenge him when he needs it.”

I hid my smile as I watched my hands. “Trust me, Lyria, he challenges me more.”

“I believe it,” she said. “I remember how you two were as children. I may have been older, but I watched the training sessions sometimes. Watched you go head-to-head. Saw him fall in love with you, too.”

My heart skipped a beat over those summer days and what I hadn’t even realized they meant.

Lyria continued, “All those years he spent yearning make these moments—like flying on the back of a pegasus—so much sweeter.”

Inside, doors opened and closed, and Barrett’s energetic voice called, “Who’s making breakfast for the royal couple?”

I laughed, partly at the prince, but softly said, “They do for me, too.” I may not have been yearning, but I think a part of me was always waiting to fall in love with Tolek. It was that part that breathed a new life now.

And when Lyria stood and extended her hand to me, I swore there was a bit of that life in her voice. “Come on, Revered. Let’s go eat before those scoundrels devour it all.”

Thanks to Harlen’s careful plotting, the inn in the twelfth, unclaimed zone in Valyn was empty except for our traveling party. It was poorly furnished and had one bathing chamber for the entire building, but it was private and convenient for our plans. With the scattered square tables having been pushed together, mismatched chairs, and creaking floorboards all bathed in the morning sun from the windows lining the front wall, it was actually cozy. The wear and ease a bit like the Cub’s Tavern.

Due to the quality and the ruse, however, the Engrossians were staying at a much nicer inn in the heart of the city. That didn’t stop them from seeking us out for breakfast. Having arrived in the early morning hours with my sister and Erista, no one was aware they were here yet.

Barrett stood proudly in the center of the dining room, hands on his hips as he looked over the group of us. Everyone was here, my sister and Erista noisily singing folksongs in the kitchen as they prepared breakfast. I smiled at the hint of normalcy she insisted on whenever there was a kitchen present. Cooking calmed her nerves.

When the prince’s eyes landed on Lyria and me, his grin widened. “I hear we have plans to discuss?”

“That we do, Your Majesty,” I answered. My heart inflated, traitorously daring to hope with each step of the plan that slid into place.

Barrett nodded, a subtle gratitude in his eye. “And I have someone to introduce.” He held out a hand, and a woman with dainty features and raven-dark hair falling to her curvy waist stepped around him, standing squarely in the center of the room. Round eyes swept over the scene, not seeming the least bit phased at the number of warriors staring back at her—or the fae. “May I introduce to you my promised partner and my oldest friend, Celissia Langswoll.”

Celissia sank into a curtsey, her hair swinging around one shoulder to reveal a brutal purple scar in the shape of an ax on her collarbone. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“You don’t need to be so formal with them,” Barrett said.

Celissia’s gaze snapped up, a brow quirking at her prince and a soft smile puncturing her round cheeks. She folded her hands in the skirts of her dark purple gown and whispered, “I’m only attempting to play the role of a good and kind queen.” There was a joking reprimand in her voice that had Barrett rolling his eyes.

“Angels, you’re just like him, aren’t you?” Malakai said.

Celissia’s eyes sliced to him. “You must be his dear brother,” she cheered and Barrett barked a laugh.

“Dear brother?” Malakai echoed. “I’m going to need a drink.”

“It’s not even midday,” Mila snickered.

“Doesn’t matter.” Malakai stomped across the dining room to the bar, digging around the stocked shelves.

Tolek, lounging in a chair at the long table with Lancaster and Mora, notes spread before them, jested, “I love family reunions.”

“Me, too,” Barrett said. With a wistful sigh, he sank into an empty seat.

I stepped forward, holding my hand out to Celissia. Before I could even say hello, her keen stare landed on my North Star tattoo, then swept up to my magenta eyes. “Ophelia Alabath,” she said. “Revered of the Mystique Warriors.” Beside the bar, the door to the kitchen flew open and Jezebel marched through carrying a tray laden with bread and pastries Harlen had delivered. “And Jezebel’s sister,” Celissia finished.

“Observant,” I said with a nod of approval.

“Where I’m from, it pays to be.” As the daughter of an ambitious noble household, I understood what she meant. Most councils were filled with schemers, and based on what I’d heard, Kakias’s court was no different.

As more food was brought out from the kitchens, others around the room introduced themselves—Celissia watching the fae curiously.

Mila said, “Your father is Nassik, right?”

Celissia lifted her chin, her hair falling behind her shoulders. “Yes.”

No one voiced an opinion on the councilman, taking chairs at the table in a rigid silence, but Celissia’s hardened stare matched both Barrett’s and Dax’s. Even Malakai, Mila, and Lyria appeared tense.

Finally, once almost everyone was seated, Lancaster drawled, “Who is Nassik?”

“He’s on my council” was all Barrett offered at my side. I exchanged a look with Tolek to my left that confirmed none of us were entirely trusting of the fae yet.

“And you don’t like him,” Mora stated, intrigued eyes flicking between us all.

Barrett scoffed. “That’s an understatement.” He looked at Celissia, wincing. “Sorry.” But she waved a hand to tell him to continue. “He’s the biggest opponent to my crown and one of the main reasons I have yet to formally claim the title, along with other unrest.”

He didn’t elaborate, speaking to the fried eggs on his plate.

“We can talk about that later,” Dax cut in, placing an arm on the back of Barrett’s chair. “Tell us what’s happening tonight.”

The air in the room thickened. Beside Tolek, Cyph picked nervously at his food.

“It’s a four-pronged plan,” I explained. “Cypherion will be in the fighting den with Tolek and Lyria supporting him. You three will be entertaining Titus while Malakai and Mila sneak into the manor to find Vale using Harlen’s careful plans of the building, and my team will be in the catacombs, hunting for Valyrie’s emblem. If all goes to plan, we’ll retrieve both Vale and the token tonight and be gone before the morning. You can continue on your tour of the city with the chancellor and play completely innocent.”

“Innocence—such a ruse.” Barrett sighed heavily. “It’s a wonderful thing I’m a good actor.”

“Are you, Bare?” Celissia quipped with her arms crossed. “I don’t seem to recall that.”

“You wouldn’t, dear,” Barrett said, smirking. “My best performances are in the privacy of?—”

With the arm wrapped around his chair, Dax covered the prince’s mouth before he could finish that sentence, but laugher burst along the table. “Some things are okay not to share,” the Engrossian General muttered.

“Are you stifling your king?” Barrett argued, words still caught behind Dax’s hand.

“Someone has to,” Malakai said.

“Treason!” Barrett blurted.

“Can it be treason if I’m not pledged to the Engrossians?” Malakai asked. A smirk played around the corner of his lips. Seeing him tease Barrett warmed the cold tattoo beneath my elbow. He seemed a bit like his old self—lighter in a sense.

Unfortunately, it was a weightlessness the prince didn’t seem to hold. As everyone slipped into discussion of the night’s details, I tapped Barrett on the shoulder and nodded toward the other room.

He followed me along the bar and into a small alcove lined with a thick brocade rug worn with holes. Dim lanterns hung from the ceiling, lit with candles and bearing sticks to burn incense.

“How are you?” I whispered, letting the clamor of voices from the other room mask my worry.

Barrett waved off my question. “Fine, as always.”

“Are you okay with this plan?”

“Of course I am,” he swore. “We need to get Vale back.”

“You agreed so quickly, though, when you already have so much to worry about in your territory. Are you certain?”

“I promise. We don’t want to be anywhere else.” His throat bobbed on a swallow. He peeked back around the corner, and when he faced me again, his eyes were darker than their usual glinting green. “But there is a part of me that’s wondering if this plan is a bit reckless, even for my liking.”

“How so?” I asked, not entirely disagreeing.

“We’re the rulers of the major clans, Ophelia. We shouldn’t be wandering into catacombs and breaking into manors.”

“You’re fairly invited to that dinner,” I reminded him.

“You know what I mean.”

I nodded. I did understand his fear, but it wasn’t one I could give in to, so I tried Barrett’s joking tactic. “Are you saying you can’t protect yourself, Prince?”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I know you can as well. And I learned in my time in Damenal that you aren’t likely to remain back in the palace while others risk their lives, but perhaps we both have to start considering that alternative.”

“I may be the Revered, but I will never rule from an ivory tower.” I dropped my voice as a playful disagreement rose from the dining room. “And I know that’s not in your nature either, Barrett. Not the prince who fled his home and allied with his enemy to save his people. So, what is this truly about?”

Barrett pursed his lips. “I’m concerned about my clan. A tour is one thing, but I can’t be seen adventuring all over the continent making reckless decisions if I’m hoping to sway them to let me retain my title.”

A longing ache went through my chest at his distress.

“How bad is it?” I’d heard from Malakai about the debates Barrett had been facing, but not from the prince himself.

“It’s bad, Ophelia.” His confession was barely a whisper. He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. “I hold the palace, sure, and the few loyal council members, but none of that means anything. I need something to prove myself from this tour.”

“Celissia?” Wasn’t that the point of the facade? To win over his people through a strong partnership?

“Celissia is merely a temporary solution to buy us time, and a good friend to do so for Dax and me. But I won’t let her life become a figurehead for longer than is necessary.” Brotherly love wound through every word.

“I’m sorry, Barrett.” I squeezed his arm. “I faced challenges in claiming my own title, and I will stand by you in any way I can. Your love and respect for Celissia is admirable.” He brushed me off, but I continued, “Many rulers wouldn’t care for the well-being of an individual warrior. But I think you may be one of the few who cares for each person as much as the whole. And I can tell you love her as a sister.” My attention flicked back toward the rowdy dining room. “We have to keep our family close in times like these. We have to protect each other and do whatever it takes to escort them through the darkness.”

“If anyone can, it’s you with that Angellight,” Barrett said, his regal smirk returning.

I thought back to what Lyria had said about me being an easy person to want to follow. I wasn’t sure if I agreed—I’d made many mistakes along my path so far—but if there was someone worthy of being a ruler, someone who truly wanted to bring his people nothing but brighter days and plentiful years, it was the prince before me with his messy dark curls and playful smile.

“You’ve got an abundance of light yourself, Barrett,” I swore. “Your people will be lucky to feel it.”

“I’m so tired of these damn scrolls,” Jezzie groaned, flopping back against the thin blankets on the bed in Tolek’s and my room. Erista laughed at my sister’s dramatics.

“Me, too, Jez,” I commiserated. “I’ll be happy when we never have to see them again.”

Tolek was stretched out on the floor behind me, propped on one elbow and scribbling in his journal. “If we play our cards right tonight, we may not have to.”

He’d been working night and day to translate the Endasi, stretching the limits of what he knew and doing his best to make sense of what he didn’t. He’d even visited the libraries and bookshops in every small town we could afford to stop in, searching for anything that would help me find and capture Valyrie’s emblem tonight.

“Anything new?” I asked, brushing Tol’s hair back from his face.

His lips twisted to the side. “It’s going on about Valyrie’s friendship with Xenique and Ptholenix. About how imperative it was during the years the Angels were exiled from one another. And”—Tol sighed, frustrated—“I’m not sure. Some of it isn’t making sense.”

He’d been saying that for days now.

I peered over his shoulder, though I’d only learned enough to know a few basic words. “Is this the one about the final reading?”

Tol shook his head. “In the one about the races.”

That wasn’t what I expected. I didn’t see how the other Angels tied into Valyrie’s brutal games, but I shrugged. “Maybe we know everything we’re going to find.”

But Tolek’s eyes continued to rove the document, his free hand toying with my hair, completely consumed.

“Where the dead rest,” he mumbled. He’d been stuck on that phrasing since he first translated it, claiming something about the repetition didn’t feel right. What didn’t feel right to me, though, was having to visit where the dead rest at all.

I suppressed a shiver, not needing to show anyone that the thought of visiting ancient catacombs didn’t exactly excite me.

“Let’s try the Angellight again,” Jezebel said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

She scooped up the emblems from the side table—all but Damien’s, which remained around my neck—and dropped onto the floor beside me. Then, with a delicate dagger, she pricked her finger, a droplet of bright crimson beading.

I couldn’t help but think of what Mora had said of the khrysaor’s blood. Of how it likely caused Sapphire’s pegasus to emerge and that it may have been the final step to reversing Kakias’s ritual, as well.

What had it been? As the only two present on Daminius, Barrett and I had been wracking our brains to no avail.

“As much as I hate this ritual, and it makes my magic feel riled,” Erista said, entranced as she watched Jezebel pinch her finger to draw more blood, “this part is fascinating.”

“I agree with the first sentiment at least.” Tolek’s eyes lifted from the scroll. “Bit cliche for a Soulguider to be interested in blood rituals, no?”

“Blood, death, spirits.” Erista shrugged. “All are simply tools at our disposal.”

Tolek blinked at her, then a crooked smirk bloomed. “Fascinating.”

Erista turned back to Jezebel and me. “Remind me again what this is supposed to do, though?”

“Jez and I both ended up on the Spirit Realm. If it was only my active Angelblood that caused it, she shouldn’t be able to travel there. Plus, it changed how both of our power feels and manifests. There has to be more to it.”

Erista stared at the drop of blood on my sister’s finger knowingly, as if waiting for it to do something.

“Right, but we already proved she can’t produce Angellight as you can,” Tolek said.

We’d tested the emblems with Jezebel’s blood thinking maybe her Angelblood had somehow been activated, but she didn’t create any Angellight. Not a drop beyond that silver-blue glow.

My sister and I were trying other experiments.

“Maybe there’s a way to awaken something within Jezebel using my blood. Lancaster said we need to be testing this magic in different ways.” I held up a hand and my dagger as Tol opened his mouth. “Before you complain, Tolek”—I made a tiny cut on the back of my arm and winked at him—“I can heal it quickly.”

Angellight was already wrapping up my wrist in a golden tendril. It licked at my blood, crimson coating the iridescent strand, and before our eyes, the tiny sliced sealed over.

My light could heal even quicker than the mountains could stitch up an injury. I’d realized I could do that when Kakias attacked us at the trench months ago and again when my body seemed to recover unnaturally fast during the final battle. I hadn’t known at the time what it was, but apparently Angellight—especially the kind I could now wield outside of my body—was helpful for at least one thing.

If only I knew its other secrets.

They were there, beneath my skin. I could feel them, but every time I tried to tug them free by yanking on those threads of magic, my body protested. I didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know how I’d figure it out, either, given Damien still refused to appear.

Regardless, I shoved away my discomfort and looked at Jezzie. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Do you worst.”

I stared into her tawny eyes, alive with possibility, and all I heard was Lancaster’s demand that we learn more. That we push the boundaries of this newfound magic.

“What are you?—”

Before Tolek could finish his sentence, Angellight shot from my hand, right toward Jez.

“What’s the point of the blood?” Erista asked, watching warily as my golden power wrapped around her partner, toward the wound on Jez’s finger.

“A direct link,” Jezebel said, “hopefully.”

“It feels different,” I said through gritted teeth. “It feels like…something waking.” Like something growing wings and taking flight.

I willed the power to wind around my sister as it did through my bones. Envisioning it, I directed it to learn her as it had me, to wake whatever might be resting within her along with that untamed spirit power.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“It’s warm. Good.” Jezzie studied her hand, where my power skimmed right over her blood, but left it untouched. Slowly, she unwound her own silver-blue light and threaded it against my own. “Where the ability to talk to the dying feels like a cold release, this feels like…life. It feels like something greater than any warrior?—”

Her words were slashed into silence when the strand of Angellight reared up.

Like a beast lunging for its prey, the golden tendril whipped back and shot for Jez, releasing a vicious hiss.

“Ophelia!” Erista shouted.

I tugged it back. Tugged and tugged that wild, savage magic, recalling it to me.

But it pulled for Jezebel.

Jezebel, who was now scrambling away as the power stretched for her, as it wrapped around her neck.

Threat , something in my head echoed. Sister, adversary, fellow.

Terror seized my lungs.

The room was full of shouting, and I begged the magic to listen.

Jezzie tore at the strand as it spread. As it slithered around her shoulders and down her spine. And the voice of the power, the thing that had woken, chuckled in my head.

“I don’t know what’s happening!” I panted.

Hastily, I gathered all the emblems in my hand and dug deep within the cavern of my spirit.

Angellight was spreading over Jezebel’s limbs now, consuming her.

“ Get off my sister !” I growled, and I ripped at the Angel strands.

A burst of silver-blue light erupted from Jezebel. It spiraled against mine with the icy pressure of vengeful destruction. A roaring wind spun between them.

My Angellight snapped against it like a twin force—or an evenly matched opposition. A balance. One building me up and the other set to destroy.

With an echoing crack and a flash, my power whipped back into me, and Jezzie’s into her, sending us staggering. The lamp beside the bed toppled over as Jez hit it, and I crashed into the wardrobe, breath whooshing from my lungs.

Tolek was beside me, checking me over and helping me sit up.

The gold light settled back beneath my skin where it belonged, purring contentedly and spitting energy back into my muscles, fueling me.

But Jezebel and I panted, wide-eyed, her face hauntingly pale. Her frame was so small as Erista held her, kissed her temple.

“No more tests,” Erista demanded when neither of us spoke.

I blinked at them in silence, my stomach turning at what the light had done. That power slithered along my bones, and in its wake, a tainted feeling lingered. I was a creator of ruin with that untamed magic.

“No more,” I agreed. Not if it would risk anything happening to Jezebel, Lancaster’s taunts be damned.

As the two of them left, taking the emblems other than Damien’s for safe-keeping, I lashed at the wild magic inside me. I beat it down, forcing it to submit to my will, because it would not attack my sister or anyone I loved again. Not as long as I breathed.

I remained on the floor, staring blankly at the door, until Tol moved in front of me.

“You didn’t know,” he said, reading my guilty thoughts plainly on my face.

“I shouldn’t have tried.”

“Your sister is strong. She’ll be okay.” But there was a defensive edge to his voice that said he agreed. That the Angellight might be more volatile than we thought.

“It always listened to me before,” I said morosely. “Maybe not fully in my control, but it bent to my will.”

“I know,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I know. But we’ll figure out what happened later. For tonight, put it behind you. Because we’re walking into an entirely different battle.”

Tonight…the catacombs. My stomach dropped.

“I can’t use this magic.”

Tol cupped my cheek. “You’re strong enough without the damn Angels, Alabath.”

I closed my eyes and allowed him to ground me. Not without checking on the power in my blood, though. Not without taking one more moment to make sure it was locked away tightly. A beast shoved in its cage.

When I was certain it couldn’t get out, I stuffed all my questions inside with it and forged a lock over the uncertainty.

I wouldn’t let them out. Not again.

If that was what the power of Angels did, I would be stronger.