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

Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

Malakai

“The horses aren’t fans of sand,” Dax said, falling onto his ass beside Barrett—on a slope of the very stuff the mares didn’t like.

Soulguider horses were used to the give of the sand beneath their hooves, but Mystique horses and many other clans’ hated it, just as they didn’t favor the icy terrain of Mindshaper Territory. Sure, they survived it during the war, but we all tolerated conditions then.

When we were traveling south from Valyn, through the Starsearcher jungles and toward the Soulguider border for the past week, Ombratta had been her usual, well-tempered self. The moment we stepped into the desert, all the horses had been riled.

I shook the small, intrusive grains from my boots and sat beside Barrett and Dax in the shade of a cypher tree for a quick break before continuing on to Lendelli.

“I hate sand, too,” I grumbled.

I peeked through the willowing branches toward where the mares gathered, unsettled under their own canopy as Cypherion and Vale took their turn to feed them.

Ophelia, Jezebel, and Erista were traveling with Sapphire and the khrysaor, but Tolek, Mila, and Lyria took a moment to spar, the fae observing shrewdly. As I watched, Lancaster muttered something that made Tolek scoff and Mila tip her head back with laughter. The sound wasn’t audible from here, but it rolled along my bones nonetheless.

As if feeling my stare, Mila looked over her shoulder, quirking a brow. I grinned at her, and damn did my chest inflate when she smiled back.

Celissia ducked beneath the branches, stepping in my line of sight. When I jumped, she laughed, flicking a glance toward Mila. “Enjoying the view?” she teased. I’d gotten to know Celissia better on the journey down from Valyn. Found her to be quick-witted, compassionate, and with a keen interest in taking all of Tolek’s money in every round of cards.

“Absolutely,” I swore.

The queen-to-be tossed Dax a canteen. The general lunged to the side to catch it, grunting. When he sat up again, he massaged his abdomen.

“That scar still bothering you?” I asked Dax.

“More than usual lately.”

Barrett’s jaw ticked as he watched the spot where Dax had been stabbed with Kakias’s dark magic with heated intensity, like he could see beneath his consort’s tunic.

I narrowed my eyes at the general, but Dax assured us, “Scars often hurt.”

“Not like that,” Celissia said, eying him carefully. “It makes me nervous that nothing I do is helping.” She clasped the pendant hanging around her neck and muttered under her breath. Dax watched her with a blank expression, shaking his head.

Barrett was unusually quiet through the entire exchange. He sat with his elbows propped on his knees, folding and unfolding a letter between his long fingers.

“From my uncle?” Celissia asked, following my stare to my half-brother. Elvek, one of the members of Barrett’s council, was apparently the queen-to-be’s uncle on her mother’s side and as distrustful of Celissia’s father, Nassik, as the rest of us.

Barrett’s head snapped up, shaking off the thoughtful daze he’d been in. “Yes, and Rebel.”

“Rebel?” I asked of the wolf.

“Since we left, Elvek’s been sending Rebel on regular patrols for a few days at a time.” His tone was calm, but Barrett’s knee bounced.

“And?” I said, eyeing the tick.

Dax answered, “Barrett’s concerned Rebel is going to be recognized as belonging to him.”

“Our people are unsettled,” the prince explained. “Those who support me are doing so quietly, but those who don’t are…” He groaned, leaning back against the cypher. “They’re stirring. Rebel has found up to four separate clusters of warriors gathering against my rule.”

He passed me the note, and I scanned it quickly. They were small groups, nothing concrete, but it was the spark that could ignite an internal war. Elvek sent Rebel out again a few nights ago, so they’d have another update within the next couple of days, and were hoping the issue was waning. Beyond that, Nassik had been reclusive, not stirring up trouble for the council.

“Elvek doesn’t sound concerned,” Celissia said. “Typical post-war propositioning.”

“And what if it’s not?” Barrett snapped. He winced, casting her an apologetic glance. “Sorry.” She waved off the apology, and Barrett went on, “What if this is all for nothing, though?”

“What if it is?” I asked. Dax sliced me a warning glare. “What if these people present an opponent to your throne? You’re the last of your line, so it would be difficult, but imagine for a moment they found someone willing and able to challenge you? What would that mean?”

Barrett scoffed. “I’m not narcissistic enough to think I’m the best person to be king. Simply the best option right now. If there was someone out there who I genuinely thought wanted to lead the Engrossians from a place a goodness, with the training and mind for it, I’d gladly abdicate.” He shook his head. “But there’s not. Not that we know of, at least.”

“Even if that person came about,” I said, “even if you lost your damn throne through an uprising, you changed the tide of the war when you joined us. Some of your people may not like that choice, but every other clan will remember it for history.” I passed the letter back to his capable hands. “I believe you’re going to reclaim that throne rightfully, but even if you didn’t, what you’ve done wouldn’t be for nothing.”

With one hand resting on his stomach, Dax placed the other on Barrett’s shoulder. “Malakai’s right.”

Frustration rippled off the prince’s frame. He leaned forward bracing his elbows on his knees. “There’s something going on, though. I can feel it.”

“What do you mean? Did Elvek’s recent letters say more?” I asked.

Dax swiveled to face me, again wincing, and watched intently as his prince said, “Nothing of notable concern.” Barrett dragged a ringed hand through his dark hair. “I was certain that, with me gone, Celissia’s father would make strides toward his own agenda.”

My brow furrowed. “Then why leave him in reach of the crown?”

“Because I wanted to see what those efforts would be.” I was silent, not quite following that strategy, so Barrett continued, “I thought that while Nassik did not support my initial plans for reclaiming my position and moving our clan forward, he would fold once his daughter and I were promised. And he has, on the surface. But I expected he would still be working to fortify the territory against our enemies as he fears you all might be. That he would be rebuilding the armies and ensuring our defenses, nurturing that innate refusal of me being king. And I wanted to catch him in the act.”

“But he hasn’t done any of that?” I asked as a warm breeze coasted between the branches.

“Not a thing to push back against any of the initiatives Elvek and Pelvira have instituted.”

“Which are?”

“They’ve opened the doors,” Dax said.

Barrett elaborated, “The palace is flooded with staff again. There’s life being breathed back into our home.” He clasped his hands between his knees and—dammit, pride glinted in his green eyes.

“It’s truly marvelous to see,” Celissia said, practically radiating. “Or so a friend wrote to me. She said there hasn’t been this much warmth and levity in Banix in years. It sounded hopeful. Restorative.”

“The people are happy, then,” I commented. “Aside from those Rebel uncovered.”

Barrett glowed at the words. “Those employed by the palace are elated, and the nearby districts in Banix are already benefitting from the available work.”

“What risk could Nassik possibly see with this plan, then? The majority of the people are happy, his daughter will be queen as far as he knows, and even though the palace staff is back, you’re not there, so there can’t be a threat to the crown. Maybe Nassik realized that, and that’s why he’s been silent?”

The prince flopped back in the sand, reaching up to pick at a loose piece of bark on the nearest cypher.

“Nassik was on my mother’s council for decades before I was even born.” Barrett sighed. “Sometimes, I think he’s the one who kept her in line.”

“What do you mean?”

“He has a certain”—Barrett’s head tilted, contemplating his next words—“audacity to him. He’s not afraid to speak his mind.”

“Regardless of the opponent,” Dax added gruffly. Celissia’s agreeing laughter bounced across the dunes.

“So I’ve seen,” I said. “You think that makes him irredeemable, then?”

“It makes him a confusing adversary, because I can’t figure out his motives. He was against my mother at times, but now he’s against me, too?” Barrett shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. I fear he’s planning something…bigger. And biding his time, allowing us to get comfortable.”

Celissia dragged her hands through the sand. “He has a lot of secrets.”

“So don’t get comfortable,” I said simply. “You orchestrated this tour, remember? You still have control here, Barrett. You and Celissia have met with leaders of multiple cities since leaving Valyn—won them over. They’ll back your claim for the throne if it means the Engrossians won’t be a threat.”

It was clear from Barrett’s silent fidgeting that he agreed, though reluctantly. He didn’t want this tour—this facade. Barrett wanted the man he loved to wear the crown beside him in full truth. To take the Engrossian vows with Dax, his general and king consort.

And every day he spent indulging this bluff was driving him closer to snapping. Celissia gave me a grim nod that said she understood and only wanted her friend to be happy. Barrett had been raised with the games of royals, and while his heart was staked on his clan, his spirit was not in the manipulation.

“You’ll sit on that throne,” I swore, “and you’ll do it with Dax by your side.”

The prince looked up at me, and gratitude shone in his eyes. The kind you felt when you couldn’t voice what you wanted, but were thankful someone saw it anyway.

Dax shifted closer to his prince’s side and brushed back his curls. “We have other plans in place. Other dreams that you and Celissia have been discussing since you were small. This is how we’re going to achieve them.”

“He’s right, Bare,” Celissia agreed. “There are bigger goals to remember.”

I wasn’t sure what they meant by that, but Barrett blew out a rough breath, continuing to chip away at the cypher. “It’s all so worrisome.”

I snorted a laugh. “Sounds like the simplest way to describe politics.”

They all cracked smiles.

“I think Nassik cares about one thing over all else,” Dax said, exchanging a nod with Celissia. “His house. His daughter is promised to the crown so he isn’t openly rebelling, but we’d be foolish to assume he won’t take an opportunity to do so.”

A power-hungry ruler whose boundary had not been tested yet. How far would he go?

“I think Dax is right,” I said, thinking back to all those years I spent studying history as the heir to the Revered. Picking apart the movements of past rulers and the reasoning behind their decisions. “Nassik, like so many in politics, doesn’t truly care about his people. Many might when they first start out.” I shrugged. “But somewhere along the line, the power overtakes them. It becomes less about the greater public and more about… more . More land, more wealth, more accolades for their family. We’ve seen it time and again in the past.”

“I studied that pattern, too,” Barrett muttered. “It’s one no one has ever come up with a way to combat.”

“Pure hearts?” Celissia drawled.

“Are few and far between.” Barrett pried up the wood chip and flicked it out across the dunes. He sighed. “At least we’ll have more news from Rebel soon. Come on, let’s eat before we head back out.”

“I’ll be right there,” I said as they stood.

Barrett wanted to combat the greedy tendencies of men, but was there truly a way to fight warrior nature? We thrived on the magic of the land; it made sense that so many sought power in other forms once they’d had a taste. Whatever made them feel stronger, more prominent. Invincible.

I contemplated the sun-kissed dunes and budding cyphers for a few silent minutes, tossing the pitfall of warrior instincts around in my mind.

But my eyes kept landing on that stubborn chip of wood Barrett had flicked away, lonely and sinking in the sandy sea, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that was how being a ruler often felt?

Being pulled in so many directions that you found yourself alone, drifting, and drowning in your surroundings.