Shadow of the Moon

Chapter 26

Kyros

Tomorrow was my birthday celebration, a day meant for joy and festivity. Yet, all I felt was a gnawing dread. I paced restlessly in my chambers, the opulent furnishings and rich tapestries a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. Three days had passed since my outburst at the border, three days since I had unleashed a power, I had fought so hard to suppress.

I had always been strong, my flames a force to be reckoned with. But the raw, untamed energy I had unleashed that day was different, a primal surge that had scorched the earth and sent tremors through the very foundations of the castle. I could still feel the heat lingering in my palms, the echo of that power thrumming through my veins. It was as if the magic was clawing at my insides to be released.

I knew I had released too much too fast the other day, the pull on my magic felt like a pit in my stomach.

I wondered if anyone had noticed the change in me, the intensity of my magic, the darkness that now shadowed my amber eyes. I wondered if any of my brothers suspected the truth behind that surge of power.

Raedon's comments from the other day rang in my mind. That temper is utterly fae. If only he knew the truth, the truth that I had uncovered in the five years I was gone. The truth about the power that lay dormant within me, waiting to be unleashed, the truth about my lineage.

Perhaps Raedon did know and was biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to exploit my newfound power, to twist it to his own advantage. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a chilling reminder of my brother's cunning, his ruthlessness.

A wave of self-recrimination washed over me. I was older than Raedon, yet I had let him run rampant all these years. All because I couldn't stand the responsibility of the crown, the suffocating weight of expectations. I had shrugged off every responsibility, every burden, leaving my brothers to deal with the consequences. Raedon's cruelty, his unchecked ambition, was my fault.

But not anymore. I clenched my jaw, my fingers tracing the scars that marred my brow, a constant reminder of Raedon's betrayal. I wouldn't let my brother win. I wouldn't let the King control me any longer. The scar on my brow throbbed in answer.

“Ori, my love,” my mother's voice, soft yet laced with concern, broke through my troubled thoughts. I turned and found her standing in the doorway, her golden gown shimmering in the soft light of the hallway, her crimson hair a fiery halo around her head. A wave of warmth washed over me, a momentary respite from the storm brewing within me.

"That scowl is going to give you wrinkles, you know," she teased, a gentle smile curving her lips. She moved with a weary grace, her shoulders slumping slightly as she crossed the room and sank onto the chaise longue by the fireplace. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the lines of worry etched around her eyes.

She moved her hand through the air, the flames moved with her hand. I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. I hated that my troubles, my anger, my grief, were causing my mother more pain. She had endured enough, suffered enough. She didn't need the added burden of my own turmoil.

I longed to confide in her, to share the weight that pressed down on my heart. To tell her about Estella, about the reason I had begged to return. But I hesitated, worried it would only cause her more pain.

"I'm fine, Mother," I lied, forcing a smile onto my lips. I crossed the room and took a seat beside her, taking her hand in mine. Her skin was soft and warm, a comforting contrast to the coldness of the castle walls, her hands shook slightly.

"Oh, Kyros," she sighed, her gaze searching mine. "I know you're not fine. I can see it in your eyes, in the tightness of your jaw, in the way you clench your fists." She paused, her voice softening. "I miss your smile, my love. The one that lights up your whole face, the one that chases away the shadows." She gently traced a finger along my brow, her touch light and comforting. "Let me into that miraculous mind of yours, what has you so twisted?"

"I am just distraught about Kaelen," I said, my voice thick with emotion. I turned away from my mother, unable to meet her gaze. "I just want to understand what happened that day."

The official story, a fabricated tale of a tragic accident during a training exercise, felt hollow, a blatant lie designed to conceal the truth. I knew, deep down, that there was more to Kaelen's death than met the eye. And I was determined to uncover it, no matter the cost.

"I take that as you don't believe what has been told?" My mother's voice was steady, carefully controlled, but I could detect a tremor of sadness beneath the surface. She, too, mourned the loss of Kaelen, her youngest son, the gentle soul who had always brought light and laughter to our lives.

"What do you think happened?" I asked, my jaw clenching before I forced myself to relax, remembering her words about scowling. "We should have taken him with us," I added softly, the guilt gnawing at me. Leaving Kaelen behind had been a mistake, a grave miscalculation that had cost him dearly.

My mother sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I thought having one of my flames would prevent any harm in our absence," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I knew the second his flame was extinguished. I felt it here." She placed a jeweled hand over her heart, her eyes filled with a deep sorrow.

"The same way I felt your pain the other day." She turned her golden gaze to me, her expression filled with a mother's love and a queen's regret. "I thought he would be safe here, that his fire would burn bright."

A single tear escaped her eye and traced a path down her cheek. Her crimson hair, like a fiery waterfall, cascaded over her shoulder, she tilted, her hair blocking my view of her face. The scent of my mother's tears, so rare, so precious, filled me with a renewed sense of sorrow and a fierce protectiveness.

"We should have returned sooner," I said, my voice cracking. "Things have gotten out of control, the King..." I started, but my mother cut me off with a sharp look.

"I know all about that man," she said, the word feeling foreign on her tongue, laced with a bitterness that spoke volumes about their relationship. "His ambitions have always been a worrisome venom."

Her words, though spoken softly, held a weight that settled heavily in the room. She had endured years of the King's tyranny, his relentless pursuit of power, his callous disregard for the well-being of his own family.

"You don't believe them?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"I know one thing," she said, her voice hardening with conviction. "Rigel and his children would never have harmed him." She paused, seeing the confusion on my face. "Rigel and my father were close friends once. The original arrangement was for me to marry... not Pheonix, but Rigel's eldest."

"But Cyrus –" I began, then stopped at my mother’s raised hand.

"Was not his eldest," my mother finished, her voice filled with a deep sadness. "You forget, my flame, that Rigel was nearly six centuries old, Vega a little over five. They had a son, a few years older than I. His name was Zephyr." I often forget how old my mother was.

She appeared to anyone to be in her early thirties, but in reality she was nearly a century old. Pheonix aged slower than a mortal, but his human blood caused him to age quicker than my mother. They were similar in age, but he looked to be in his fifties, he seemed to have aged ten years in our absence.

I straightened, my eyes widening. Zephyr. The name echoed in my mind, a forgotten memory from my childhood, a name my mother had used to call me in moments of tenderness. A name that held a deep significance, a connection to a past I had long forgotten.

"Phoenix killed him," Queen Celeste continued, her voice heavy with grief. "Zephyr crossed the border to visit me. Phoenix claimed he was a threat, a spy. The council, swayed by his lies, convinced my father to force our union. Phoenix had proven himself capable of 'securing the border,' you see." Her voice dripped with bitterness. "He secured it with the blood of an innocent."

"Zephyr was not my mate and I did not love him in that fashion, and I was not his fancy," my mother confessed, her voice catching slightly, "but he was my closest friend. He understood me in ways no one else had, not until I met..." her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, "Your father."

My heart clenched at the mention of my father. The truth that my mother had kept all these years, the secret that had been hidden beneath layers of lies and deception, was finally revealed.

You see, the king is not my father, despite what I had been told all these years.

A few years after Atlas was born, my mother had gone to visit her father's palace in the East. She had left Phoenix to command the court in her absence. While she was there, she met a fae male named Jarek, after the desert wind.

He was the captain of her father's palace guard. The second they met, the mate bond snapped into place. Jarek is from a powerful bloodline, he can wield the rays of sunlight and bend them into whatever he wishes.

My grandparents were well aware of the bond and had encouraged their relationship. Especially since Atlas had been born with the scent of mortality clinging to him, a constant reminder of Pheonix's human heritage. I reached out and gently squeezed her hand, a silent offering of comfort and support.

She ended up pregnant with me by the time she had to return to the castle she shared with her husband. Jarek, my father, had protested her leaving, but she had no choice. He had been unaware of me until world reached him about the son born with pointed ears and sharp teeth. He had nearly lost it and stormed the castle then, but my grandfather had managed to calm him slightly.

She never spoke about any of it, keeping it all from me until we returned to the East for me to heal.

"That is why I know, deep in my heart," she continued, her voice gaining strength, "that Rigel and his children would never have harmed Kaelen. They are not creatures of violence, of betrayal." She met my gaze, her eyes filled with a pleading sincerity.

A wave of understanding washed over me. I saw the connection now, the bond that linked my mother to Tenebris, a bond forged in friendship and shared loss. I could see why she defended them, why she trusted them. They were connected by a thread of tragedy, woven through the years by my father's deceit and cruelty. And I knew, with a certainty that settled deep within my soul, that she was right.