In all his years spent spying on the avians, Malek had been envious of many things—their endless food supply, their fruitful isles, their cloudless skies, their freedom. But he’d never craved flight, not in the way he did at that moment, watching Lyana and Rafe soar away, her wings as white as snow, his rippling with fire, the pair of them cutting across the skies like prophecy brought to life.
He’d never felt so weighed down, his heart sinking as though pulled by an anchor to the bottom of the sea. All around him, spirits mourned, reaching out in pain, pleading with him to be healed. His city burned. His people suffered.
Did she really think he didn’t feel it?
Did she really think he didn’t want to help them?
Of course he did. But there was a difference between a want and a need. He wanted to heal everyone in Da’Kin. He needed to concentrate on the mages first, and the strongest ones at that, if they were to have any chance at fending off the next attack. When would she understand that? When would she see?
Let them go, he thought viciously, a sneer working its way across his lips. Let them run off to help the masses. Let the people have their symbols of hope. And I’ll stay right here where I’ve always been, alone and unafraid to do what must be done.
“My liege.” The voice of his fire mage cut through the silence.
Malek abandoned the balcony and marched back inside. “Where are they?”
“Follow me.”
They ran through the castle halls as fast as their feet could carry them and emerged on the roof. Malek fought a cough, wincing as the scent of burnt flesh filled his nose. All around him, mages moaned. He went to Kal first, his chest tightening as he walked by Jacinta’s charred body to kneel beside the photo’kine. This wasn’t about who he cared for the most—it was about whose magic the world most required. And against the shadow creature, it was Kal’s, bar none.
One by one, Malek healed his mages, moving from the roof to the rocks surrounding the castle to the wall and then beyond, to the garrisons stationed throughout the city, and finally, to the front line. The people didn’t cheer at the sight of him the way they had for Lyana as she walked among the wreckage, but he didn’t need their praise. The role of king was a thankless one, built of difficult decisions few would ever understand—not even, it seemed, his queen.
“My liege.”
Jacinta found him in his study hours later, long after the rest of the castle had gone to sleep. He leaned over a map of Da’Kin, searching the winding canals as though they held all the answers he craved: how to fight these monsters, how to seal the rift, how to carry out the prophecy before everything was lost.
“Initial damage reports came back while I was gone,” he said, not looking up as she came to stand beside him, her attention also on the map. “At first light, I need you to lead the rebuilding efforts. The pipes were shattered, here and here and here, cutting off fresh water to nearly a third of the city. They need to be restored as quickly as possible. People can live without homes and with little food, but without water they won’t survive.”
“Yes, my liege.”
“I also want you to gather a team to work on crafting more fire shields. The mesh blanket the raven carries—every mage in the castle guard should have one on hand for the next time a dragon attacks. The work will be tedious, but worth the effort.”
“Done, my liege.”
“Good.”
He expected her to leave as swiftly as she came, but she hesitated. Malek gave her his full attention. The planes of her face were as sharp as ever, the flat line of her ebony bangs against pale skin, the point of her chin, the angular cut of her cheekbones. Her spirit, however, wavered, flimsy and uncertain in a way his ferro’kine rarely was.
“Jacinta?”
She swallowed, her guard momentarily dropping to reveal the fear in her eyes. “Do you know what creature will come next?”
There were only three elements and three isles left before the aethi’kine creature in the House of Peace emerged—fire in the House of Song, air in the House of Prey, or light in the House of Wisdom. Two of those they could handle. One, they couldn’t. When the light dragon awoke, it would be faster than the shadow creature, too fast maybe for his umbra’kines to catch, moving with the speed of light itself. He didn’t know how they would stop it from getting to him or Lyana, but they would. To save the world, they’d find a way.
“No,” he answered honestly. “But whatever it is, we’ll fight it, the same way we always have, because we have no choice but to win.”
“Of course.” Doubt flashed across her spirit, at odds with her firm response. It was the first time he’d ever felt her question their victory.
“Have I ever led you astray, Jacinta?”
“No, my liege.”
“Then hear me now. The world will be saved because I will do whatever it takes to save it, the same way I’ve always done. If you believe in nothing else, believe in that. Now go, get some sleep. Your work begins again at dawn.”
As he watched her leave, he thought, and not for the first time, how relieved he was that none of his mages could sense his heart the way he could theirs. If they did, they would know he was just as terrified as the rest of them, just as unsure. The truth was he had no idea what he was doing or who he even was anymore, let alone whether he would save the world. But he would never stop fighting.
So while his queen slept peacefully in the arms of another man, her soul at ease in a way it had never been with him, Malek remained at his desk. He wrote orders and crafted plans, solving the problems at hand while trying to ignore the nagging question of what the future would bring.