CHAPTER 36

King Damien sat on his throne, thrilled to see the last few lingering guests leave. There was too much circling his mind. Tovi and Tali. Twins. Dark blue. Brown with a purple star. A boy and a girl.

His thoughts flipped to a night twenty years ago. How different his life was then. His adoring wife still alive. His son married to the graceful and kind Thomae. Two young grandchildren, a boy and a girl, bringing light and life and joy to the palace. And then it all changed so suddenly. He rarely thought about that night and the horrors it held.

Everything had been completely fine. Thomae’s pregnancy had been healthy and just like the other two. But, the birth of the third child did not go as planned.

A strong baby boy with brown eyes and a purple star in his left iris. The wispy fuzz on his head was dark blue. The moment Damien laid eyes on him, he knew he was the third conqueror in the prophecy.

And then the unthinkable. Princess Thomae began to moan. The midwives pressed on her abdomen and looked stricken. “What is it?” the King demanded.

Twins.

Within a few minutes another baby arrived. A little girl with bright blue eyes.

Terrifying colors. He had feared it would one day happen, but he had been prepared to stop them from having a fourth someday in the future. He thought he had time. He thought he could find a way to keep his family together while ensuring there would never be a fourth. But she was here. The fourth.

Within the hour he had sent them to be executed. The mother and the babies. He had adored five-year-old Helena with her violet eyes and blonde curly pigtails, but she had sneaked in the room to get a peek at the new baby. She had seen there were two. No one could know. She had to be killed as well, but it had nearly been the end of him to give that order.

He could still hear Thomae’s screams as the babies were whisked out of the room. She never even held the second one.

Worse than those screams, he could still hear little Lena’s whimpers and cries of “Grandpapa!” as he turned his back and the guards took her away. He could still taste the vomit in his mouth as he was violently sick all that night.

Lena. Such a bright and shining star in his dark sky. When he allowed himself to think about her, one particular memory always surfaced.

She was four years old, and she sat on his lap wearing a pink dress. The mountain hadn’t turned away from colorful clothing yet. Her blonde curls bounced around her cherub face as she giggled. “No, Grandpapa! It goes like this!” she cried gleefully, straightening Damien’s crown, which he had purposely set on his head at an angle.

“What do you mean, young lady? Do you think this looks silly?” he asked, pushing the crown off one ear again.

She was beside herself, scrunching her eyes and nose and shrieking the way only a small child can. “Yes, Grandpapa! You are silly.”

He helped her straighten the crown once more. “Would you like to wear this crown someday when you are old enough?” he asked tenderly. She shook her head and frowned. “Why not, my dear girl? You can have my crown and my throne.”

She looked lovingly at her grandfather as if contemplating something very serious. He had a hard time remembering she was only four and not a very, very wise old soul. “Grandpapa, your chair is too big for me, and it is a very heavy crown.”

He shook himself and blinked away the black tears that had collected in his eyes. He must not think of sweet Lena now.

How had the babies survived? And did anyone else know their true identity? It was clear Tovi was completely ignorant of her rightful place in this very palace. What about the boy? Did he know? Is that why he was wandering somewhere in the hills?

A subtle cough roused his attention. “Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Megara said from the doorway. “May I interrupt your thoughts?”

“Come in, dear girl. What is it?”

She approached his throne swiftly, and he could tell by the shine in her normally dull eyes that she had something delicious to tell him. “I must report a heart. It’s Xanthe. I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I know she is almost family.”

Damien froze, staring intently at his weapon. “Xanthe? Have you seen it?”

“No. I heard her speak of it. She and Tovi have attended some sort of secret meeting for rebels with hearts in their hands. It’s disgusting, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, you may go,” he declared.

“But, Your—”

“You may go,” he said more forcefully. Megara’s face crumpled in disappointment, but she turned around and exited the room.

Damien closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. He had never felt so tired.