Shadow of the Moon

Chapter 14

Estella

The sun beat down on my back, its heat a searing reminder of my vulnerability in this hostile land. Each step through this wretched realm sent a tremor of fear through me. I scanned the horizon, searching for any landmark I recognized from my previous journey, but this was a different route than the one I had taken with Kyros.

My heart hammered against my ribs as the imposing silhouette of the castle grew larger with every step. I never thought I would miss the presence of Proteus and the guards, but they had been forced to remain at the shimmer. The invite has said no guards, that this was meant for peace. Proteus was enraged when he was told he couldn’t go with us.

It had been a week since my world had shattered. A week since Astra's laughter had been silenced, her vibrant spirit extinguished. A week since Kyros, the Prince who had captured my heart, had been taken from me, his body broken and bloodied. The memories haunted me, a constant ache in my chest that no amount of tears could alleviate. It was a reminder that my heart would never heal.

After I finally returned to the palace and woke from my hours long slumber, Thallia and Lynx refusing to leave my side, Cyrus came. He wanted answers as to why the lingering scent of Kyros was in the clearing and why it had clung to me even then. I didn’t have a straight answer other than that he was trying to help. Cyrus must have read the emotions on my face, for he backed off.

I glanced at A-pa, his shoulders stiff, his form shrouded in a swirling vortex of shadows. Beside him, Cyrus walked with a grim determination, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the castle ahead.

I knew we were walking into a den of vipers, our vulnerability a testament to our desperation. But what choice did we have? The fate of our kingdom, the future of our people, rested on this meeting, this fragile hope for peace in a world teetering on the brink of war.

I knew this was a trap. The stories of Pheonix’s cruelty and paranoia that Kyros had told me kept replaying in my mind. Cyrus knew this too, but he was unable to get A-pa to see past his grief to come to his senses and decline this ridiculous offer.

A hollowness gnawed at my soul, a void that no amount of tears could fill. I felt numb, detached, as if I were moving through a fog of grief and disbelief. I knew A-pa and Cyrus felt it too, the same agonizing emptiness that mirrored the loss of their daughter, their sister. Yet, despite the pain that crippled them, they pressed onward. I had no choice but to follow.

We were walking into the home of the one who had ordered Astra's death. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. Fury simmered beneath my grief, a burning ember threatening to erupt into an inferno

The massive oak doors swung inward, admitting us into the heart of the castle. A wave of cold air washed over me, carrying the scent of stone and something subtly metallic that made my stomach churn. It smelled like dried blood.

The hallway stretched before us, a vast expanse of cold grey stone that seemed to stretch into eternity. Torches flickered in sconces along the walls, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to dance across the polished floors. I couldn’t bear to look at the flames, the reminders of the prince who I has let into my heart haunting me.

I pulled my hood higher, seeking refuge in its concealing darkness. I kept my gaze fixed on the ground, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Every instinct screamed at me to turn and flee, to escape this place of shadows and whispers.

King Phoenix had organized a banquet in Astra's honor where he had promised the head of the male who killed Astra. I begged A-pa not to attend, I just knew it was some sort of trap. But he was too blinded by retribution to listen to me. My mother and Lynx had stayed home, Lynx was ill, and our mother refused to leave her alone in the keep. I wished to be at home, silently mourning, not here parading around.

I knew that Artemis would be with them, her belly swollen with my niece or nephew growing inside. Cyrus had refused to let her join us, not wanting to risk their baby. We all agreed, despite her not liking the thought of her mate being so far from her.

Cyrus and A-pa stepped through the towering archway, their figures dwarfed by the grandeur of the throne room. Thallia and I followed closely, our footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor. The air shimmered with an almost tangible tension, a mixture of anticipation and dread.

I kept my head bowed, my hood casting a shadow over my face. My eyes, wide and wary, darted around the opulent chamber, taking in the towering pillars of polished obsidian, the intricate tapestries depicting scenes of Elorian victories, the two thrones, carved from a dark stone, maybe obsidian, and adorned with silver carvings. The sight of such blatant displays of wealth and power made my stomach churn. It was such a contrast to how we lived in Tenebris.

I huddled close to Thallia, my hand finding her sister's arm and clinging to it like a lifeline. I couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else. The pain of Astra's death was a raw wound in my soul, a constant ache that threatened to consume me. My sister knew this, her arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close to her, letting her scent of lilies sooth me.

She hadn’t left my side, even helping me wash my hair after I had let it get tangled into a matted mess. Lynx would spend time with me as well demanding me to eat whatever food she had brought, but I refused. Feeling no point in living.

I refused to lift my gaze, to meet the eyes of the fae gathered in the throne room. It was my face, my identity, that had made me a target. The murderer had mistaken Astra for me, a cruel twist of fate that had stolen my sister's life. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I burrowed deeper into the shadows of my hood, seeking a sense of safety in anonymity.

But even in my fear, I felt a flicker of defiance. I would not let them break me. I would face this ordeal with my head held high, my spirit unbroken, a princess of Tenebris, even in the heart of the enemy's domain.

"Welcome to my home, Rigel!" A deep voice boomed through the hall, resonating with a power that made my breath catch in my throat. Even without looking up, I knew who it was. The air itself seemed to crackle with King Phoenix's presence, the room falling silent as he spoke. The hairs on my arms rose to attention at the power in the room.

"I only wish it were under better circumstances," he continued, his voice smooth as silk, yet laced with a sardonic undertone that made my stomach clench. I could practically hear the smirk in his voice, the veiled mockery that sent a wave of nausea through me. Thallia, sensing my distress, squeezed me gently, a silent offering of comfort and support.

"Phoenix,” A-pa’s voice resonated through the hall, sharp and commanding. He stood tall, his shoulders squared, his gaze unwavering. "Let's dispense with the pleasantries. You have my family here not out of remorse, but out of fear. You seek to avoid war, and you believe our presence here will appease us."

My heart pounded in my chest. I had never heard A-pa speak with such bluntness; such disregard for diplomacy. Was that wise? Pheonix was an extremely paranoid male, hostility would only feed into his delusions.

"Yes, well..." King Phoenix hesitated, his voice faltering slightly. "Speaking of families," he continued, his voice regaining its smooth cadence, "I note that your mate is not among you. I trust your mate is well?" A flicker of disappointment laced his voice. He spat the word mate as if it were below him.

Why does he care whether Mother is here or not? I wondered, my suspicion growing. There was something in King Phoenix's tone, a hint of mockery, that made me uneasy.

"My Queen," A-pa spat, his voice a barely contained snarl. The mere mention of mothers name by King Phoenix seemed to ignite a spark of possessiveness in A-pa, a subtle reminder of the deep bond between them. "And my youngest were unable to attend," he continued, his voice regaining its composure. "She sends her regards."

I bit back a sarcastic retort. My mother, with her fierce loyalty and protectiveness, would sooner walk into a den of Drakon than send her regards to the King of Eloria, especially after what had happened to Astra. The blatant lie hung heavy in the air, a testament to the deep-seated animosity between the two rulers.

“Ah, I always forget about how possessive you fae males get over mates,” King Phoenix said, his voice condescending.

"I see that Queen Celeste is also absent," A-pa observed, his gaze sweeping across the dais. "It appears we are to discuss matters as males."

My eyes darted towards the throne briefly, confirming that the Queen's chair was indeed vacant. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. She hadn’t come back. Did that mean Kyros was… My mind drifted to that day in the desert. To the silent words we shared as she loaded what remained of my heart into the carriage and left.

"Ah, yes," King Phoenix said, his voice strained. He cleared his throat. "The Queen was called away to deal with... some unrest in the outer territories. She is not expected to return for some time." He added quickly, "She is unaware of the recent tragedy."

"How unfortunate," A-pa replied, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. "I see your sons are in attendance."

"Indeed," King Phoenix boomed. The rustling of fabric sounded from the throne, signaling he had risen to his feet.

"Allow me to introduce you," King Phoenix announced. "This is my eldest, Atlas, a formidable warrior and the guardian of our borders."

I could hear Atlas shift as if he bowed to A-pa, in a show of respect, but my gaze remained fixed on the ground. Refusing to let him see my face.

"And this," King Phoenix continued, his voice filled with pride, "is my third son, Raedon, a brilliant strategist who has led our armies to countless victories."

I could practically hear Raedon puffing out his chest, his arrogance radiating like the heat of the desert sun. My hands clenched tighter within my cloak, my nails digging into my palms.

"Finally," King Phoenix said, his voice losing its warmth, “that is Kaelen, my youngest.” He dismissed Kaelen, his tone bordering on disinterest. I heard Kaelen offer a brief greeting as I assumed he also dipped his head in a bow. None of the other princes had spoken to A-pa, but this one had. The only one left with the power of their mother.

My brow furrowed. My heart pounded with a sudden surge of anxiety. The King had skipped over Kyros, as if he didn't exist. A cold dread crept through my veins.

"You are missing a child," Cyrus stated, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the hall.

My heart pounded with a mixture of dread and anticipation. Of course, Cyrus had noticed Kyros's absence. He was suspicious of the prince. And I knew, with a sinking feeling, that King Phoenix was about to weave a web of lies.

"Ah, yes," King Phoenix said, his voice unnaturally high-pitched. He cleared his throat, as if feeling out the lie. "My second son, Kyros. He is... accompanying the Queen on a tour of the outer territories. As the heir apparent, it is his duty to familiarize himself with our lands."

The lie hung heavy in the air, thick with deception. I exchanged a worried glance with Thallia. Hadn’t he just claimed there was a dispute happening that the Queen was attending? His lies were so bad it was almost laughable.

“Now that you have met my sons,” King Phoenix continued, his voice regaining its composure, “allow me to make the acquaintance of your own offspring.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. King Phoenix's words were laced with a veiled threat that made my blood run cold. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that we were walking into a trap. But what choice did we have? We were here to demand justice for Astra, to seek answers, to confront the darkness that had cast its shadow over our world. And we would not back down, even in the face of danger.

"Very well," A-pa said, his voice laced with barely suppressed fury. He turned slightly, drawing Cyrus forward. "This is Cyrus, my eldest and heir to the throne."

Cyrus straightened, his gaze fixed on King Phoenix with a chilling intensity. He was a warrior, a leader, a protector. And at that moment, I knew that Pheonix sawm he full extent of his power, the unwavering strength that would one day make him a formidable King.

"He has shown great power and wisdom," A-pa continued, "and will one day be a formidable King."

"And this," he gestured towards Thallia, who stepped forward with a hesitant grace, "is my second child, Thallia."

Thallia met King Phoenix's gaze with quiet dignity, her chin held high. Despite the fear that surely flickered within her, she exuded a strength, a resilience, that mirrored our mother's spirit.

"She possesses her mother's beauty and compassion, as well as her gifts," A-pa said, his voice softening slightly, "and is destined to become a renowned healer."

I felt a pang of loneliness as Thallia stepped away, leaving me exposed. I longed to shrink back into the shadows, to disappear into the folds of my cloak. But A-pa's hand found my arm, his grip gently but firm as he pulled me to his side.

With a trembling breath, I slowly lowered my hood, my face pale and drawn. The throne room seemed to hold its breath as I turned to face King Phoenix.

“This,” A-pa announced, his voice resonating with a barely contained rage, “is my third child, Estella, second in line to the throne. She is blessed with the gifts of our ancient ancestors, blessed by the Goddess Nyx herself.” He paused, his grip tightening on my arm, his claws digging into my flesh. “You might recognize her face, Phoenix,” he snarled, “as it was her twin sister whom your soldier murdered.”

A collective gasp arose from the Elorian court. Atlas's eyes widened in shock, and a murmur of surprise rippled through the room. I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me, the weight of their gazes bearing down on me like a physical force. I was exposed, vulnerable, a creature of darkness trapped in the heart of the enemy's lair.