Daughter of Retribution (Crescent Queen Book 1)

by Wren Cartwright

  I gasped, throwing my hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter. Bastien looked contrite, and with a small haughty sniff, said, "everyone loved it."

  “He stripped his shoes, Aeryn.” Azael laughed, holding his abdomen. “Stood on the table shoeless and began singing a tune to a woman he’d hoped to bed.”

  Carwyn rolled her eyes, pulling ahead to scope out the path. Decaying banners hung across the street, tied from pole to pole, home to home. "We liked to go all out for solstice," Azael murmured as he looked at all the old decorations. He looked lost in his memories. His usual smile was nowhere to be found, and there was a melancholy glint in his eyes.

  "We will get this back, and we will fix it," I said firmly.

  He grinned half-heartedly, stopping to give me a fleeting embrace. His face was set in determination, and he had never looked more handsome than he did standing in his old home, reminiscing. The streets cleared as we approached the palace. It towered above us, a mountain of beautiful marble and stone. It may have shown the effects of age without proper care, but it was stunning all the same. A symbol of all they stood for, their heritage—the forbidden city.

  He entered a temple in service to the moon goddess. The interior was a pale cream, darkened over time, and tapestries adorned the walls. A large dish for offerings sat in the middle of the room, cracked down the center. He ran his fingers down the side, collecting a fine sheet of dust and dirt that he rubbed off onto his pants. The building had a feeling to it, all the devotion, the tears that had been shed, the praises uttered. It left somewhat of a mark, a charged energy in the air.

  "It's so different now," Nerys murmured as she stroked the midnight blue robes, ragged and worn by time.

  Sympathy hit me for the warriors who could only feel closest to their goddess in an abandoned place of worship.

  I thought back to those first nights when we exchanged stories and decided to resurrect the process. “Tell me about your favorite memory of her.” I faced Azael where he stood, grim-faced at the center of the room.

  He hesitated in thought, then his eyes lit up with happiness. “I was just a boy, hardly understanding why I was staying in the palace, why I spent so much time with the others. I was bored, and had no duties to attend to.”

  I laughed, seeing the glint of mischief in his eyes and understanding where this was heading. Nerys smiled from her spot near the tapestries while Carwyn and Bastien looked deep in conversation.

  “I wanted to see the soldiers train. Wanted to join them.” He said wistfully. “So I snuck away from the guard on watch,” he snickered, “for our safety, mind you, not to keep me contained. I found my way down to the training field and was almost struck by a stray arrow. I fell into the mud pit, spraining my wrist.”

  “Why do all our happiest stories start so morbidly?” I teased. He smiled conspiratorially.

  “The guards panicked and called Sinaia, who lifted me from the pit using her powers. I had only seen her once from afar. She later told me that she wanted to give us space to grow and learn before she intervened. At seven, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” He leaned his arm on the cracked bowl and continued. “All glowing skin and flowing black hair. She explained that my injury would heal quickly, that all my injuries would heal quickly. It was then she explained to me who I was, who we were.” He gestured to the others. “She gave me biscuits and let me sit on the couch in her drawing room filled with priceless art. The guard who was supposed to be watching us rushed in, appalled at my muddy state and my presence in her special room, but Sinaia quickly told him that it was alright in that gentle manner of hers. She was just so kind, so gentle, I’ll always remember that selflessness. That she didn’t scold me, but guided me instead.”

  “Deserved to be scolded in my opinion,” Bastien muttered. “Meanwhile, we had to have the talk a month later as a group due to his carelessness,” he scoffed, eyes twinkling.

  “It was surreal,” Carwyn added. “Better to know young, to truly treasure the time spent with friends and family knowing that you would outlive them.” Her face turned solemn. I looked Azael up and down, a beacon of life in decaying surroundings.

  "Come," I said softly, urging them back onto the brightly lit streets. "We will see her soon enough, alive and well."

  Azael came to my side, sliding an arm around my waist and pulling me close. I rested my arms on his chest, looking up into his pale eyes.

  "I'm glad you're here," he murmured.

  "I'm glad to be here," I whispered back, tucking my face into his warm black coat and leaning on him for a few moments. Inhaling his familiar and comforting scent.

  Carwyn and Bastien waited patiently for us to get back while Nerys wandered along the street, peeking into houses and examining the fallen decorations.

  We soon approached the palace, a vast abandoned monument, composed of stone and marble.

  As we walked up the wide light-colored steps and into the open room, I noticed that the doors were broken down. Sun shone liberally into the vast cavern of space. Blue and white banners hung from the walls, and the large celestial symbol engraved in the center of the floor. A cracked throne stood at the back center. A lonely thing, rumored to have been made of obsidian and onyx, it was a deep black that practically glittered in the light.

  “It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

  “We were housed in the left-wing,” Azael rumbled, gesturing towards the wide door to the left of the throne room. Engravings were carved down the sides of the stone, and tiny holes in the ceiling let light shine through like scattered stars.

  A flash of light to my left, an indrawn breath by my side, and I quickly withdrew my dagger.

  Heels clicked off the floor as a woman approached from around the corner. She sauntered, like she had all the time in the world to reach us. A golden dress adorned her body, and her dark skin gleamed from the sunlight on her excessive jewelry. A large crown lay atop her sheared hair, and a sunset orange painted her lids. She pursed her lips regally; her height was several feet taller than us, but the heels just accentuated it.

  Iridin turned the corner behind her, lifting his arms above his head to withdraw the swords from his scabbard. One in each hand. His dark hair shone, but his eyes were empty, soulless. Several guards stood at his back.

  "What do we have here?" She asked, her voice echoing across the chamber. She sounded sweet, too kind for her ruinous reputation.

  We were struck silent. I looked to Azael to find a pained expression crossing his face.

  This woman. This woman killed his brother, his friends, destroyed his home, locked up the only stable person in my life.

  The sun goddess.

  I curled my upper lip, gripped my dagger tighter.

  "Why are you so angry, darling?" Her voice was light and rang with mirth.

  "You know why," I hissed.

  "Really," she huffed. "I did them a favor. Living in squalor in their tiny home with my dear sister. Look at them now! Proud citizens of the sun kingdom, destined for a greater purpose." She frowned, a mimicry of unhappiness. “If they hadn’t managed to escape… Well, everything was going to plan.”

  Bastien groaned with anger; his fists were clenched so tightly that they were a pale white. Carwyn turned a concerned eye on him. Theia was successfully riling them up, hoping to get them so angry that they would fight sloppily. Carwyn began murmuring under her breath to Bastien, hopefully calming him.

  Nerys, however. I had never seen her face so blank, so expressionless. She was clutching a dagger in each hand, and staring forwards at the entourage.

  “Take them,” Theia said suddenly, waving her hand halfheartedly towards us like we were not worth a full command. Iridin stalked towards Nerys, full of purpose. His swords shifted with each step.

  Her guards rushed forward as I lamented what this meant. Subdue the sun goddess at this moment, or defeat her guards and run to fight another day. Either way, we would not escape unscathed, and our plans would go completely off-script.r />
  A man with dark brown hair and a deep scar bisecting his face met me halfway across the throne room. He slashed out, almost catching me in the stomach, and I retaliated with a well-placed kick to his abdomen. Carwyn approached a woman soldier with golden blonde hair, and Bastien took a running leap towards one of the larger men.

  The man pursuing me punched my arm, catching my defense when he was aiming for my abdomen. I lunged with my dagger, aiming at space in between his worn leather on his chest near his arm. He knocked it out of my hand and sent it scattering across the floor. I looked to see Azael fighting two men at once, striking one down immediately but falling behind with the second.

  "Azael!" I extended my left arm while landing a punch to the man's jaw with my right, whirling back so that I could grab the knife that Azael handed to me. Completing my turn, I lunged once more, slicing his upper arm before dropping into a crouch to avoid the blade powering towards my neck. On my way up, he landed a swift kick to my side. Pain ricocheted through my ribs, and I withheld a groan. My arm was tiring, and I could only perform so many lunges and parries before my breath was sawing in and out of my lungs and my arms began to feel weighed down by lead.

  "Giving up?" He sneered, his cragged face shifting with the motion.

  I gritted my teeth and dug my heels into the ground for purchase. "Never." His sword sliced into my ribs just as I jumped back seconds too late to avoid it.

  "Aeryn!" I heard Azael roar from across the room, I couldn’t spare him a glance, but I so badly wanted to reassure him.

  An arm came out of nowhere, catching me in the abdomen and sending me sprawling across the floor. My elbow hit first, followed by my knees; a jarring pain sliced through my body, and I winced, cradling my side.

  Just then, Bastien appeared overhead. His clothing was torn in several places, but he still moved with purpose, slicing through the man above me and delivering a killing blow to his throat only to then be struck down by a crossbow bolt.

  “Gods,” he muttered from the floor, holding his stomach. Carwyn cried out, rushing to his side and pressing her hands to the wound. She whispered to him, words that I could not hear, but I could see the sentiments. A tear leaked out of her eye, and I caught the tail end of her sentence. “... not here, need you to stay alive, so we escape, please...” She begged over his body, tears leaking out of her usually stoic eyes.

  All around me, I watched my small entourage fall. Nerys was still battling Iridin, blow for blow.

  The sun goddess approached me slowly; her golden robes dragged on the ground behind her.

  "You are but a plaything for the gods," she hissed.

  "I am a force to be reckoned with," I corrected, withdrawing my dagger from its sheath.

  “You are no savior, child. Look around.” She laughed.

  I lunged towards her, hoping to distract her with my knife as I delivered the moon bolt but stopped short when I could not feel the power in my chest.

  “Something wrong?” She smirked, her earrings dangled as she took several more steps forward. She threw a hand to the side, and a force sent me flying. I crumpled over, my breaths sawing in and out of my chest. I could see Nerys fighting with Iridin, slowly being beaten back. Azael was on his knees, holding his chest like he could keep it closed in time for it to heal. I cried out at his bleeding body, crouched on the floor. I had not seen him be impaled. Carwyn was crying desperate tears while Bastien lay unconscious. Several large wounds decorated his body, including his mauled spine. He had managed to take down at least a dozen guards before the crossbow hit him. Nerys struck at Iridin, getting a blow in on his left thigh.

  They were counting on me. I could feel angry tears rise in response to my helplessness.

  “Did you not check for wards?” She said sweetly, examining her nails like my family was not crying out all around me.

  My eyes widened. Wards. Fuck. I panicked, trying to center myself and find even a modicum of my power. Her eyes darted to the back of my neck, and then it hit me.

  “Lavinia,” I spat angrily.

  Theia smirked, “you were so trusting, like a little lamb to slaughter. I control your power at my will, child.”

  I sunk to the floor, watching Nerys fall by Iridins hand, her skin streaked with blood, her mouth open and gasping. The room fell silent; we were surrounded. Carwyn was still frantic over Bastien’s body, probably having flashbacks to a millennia ago. Azael was prone on the floor, as was Nerys. I was alone in front of Theia. It was devastating watching them fall, watching them lie there without the strength to move. Blood streaked Azael’s pale curls and covered his black shirt. He winced in pain as he turned to look at me. Blood fell from his mouth as he attempted a smile. I cried out, attempting to stand and rush to his side when a guard shoved me down.

  “Aeryn!” His voice broke halfway through my name, rumbling through the chamber.

  “I’m okay, Azael. Just please, don’t speak.” Every word racked his body with shudders, his broken body covered in blood and bone from his adversaries.

  "Enter, soldier," Theia said curtly, turning towards the wide ivy-covered doors.

  A man entered the room, with curly black hair and piercing blue eyes. Gasps echoed from around me, and I noticed a rare tear streak down Azael's face, carving a path through the gore.

  The man approached Azael where he lay, pulling his sword from its sheath and holding the blade under Azael's chin.

  "Hello, brother," he rasped. I tensed. Brother.

  "Alaric," Azael murmured.

  Holy gods, Alaric lived.

  Just as I turned back to Azael, I saw the blur of metal as Alaric plunged the sword into his brother's chest. I cried as I saw the sword exit his back, one continuous shriek as I heard the gasping choking noise Azael made. I screamed as pain tore through me. My world flashed white, then dark.

  CHAPTER 18

  I had been imprisoned for twenty days.

  I knew it was twenty days because I made a tiny mark on the wall each day with the small stone I found in my cell. It was ten feet wide, and the walls were made of some sort of black stone. The door was stone as well, no bars for me. I could hear my friends in the cells next to me, mostly silent but checking in now and then to make sure that everyone was accounted for. The walls may have been rock, but they were not soundproof. I was sure the doors were warded, but could not have used my powers anyway as I had not felt them since Theia’s reveal. It felt like a part of me had been stolen, and technically, part of me was. This meant she knew I had used it at the estate, had willingly not triggered the control until the end, blindsiding me. I missed the power curling in my chest, the sense of strength and rightness it gave me.

  Thinking of Azael with the blade in his chest broke me. I knew he was immortal, I knew he would rise again and join the land of the living if she did not interfere, but a small part of me died watching the sword exit his body, the blood drip down his clothes, his short gasps for air. I exploded with power, raw, uncontrolled, pure power, even Theia’s control could not stop my boiling emotions. I passed out after, hoping against hope that our trials were over, at least temporarily. But I awoke in a cell, to Nerys next door telling me that Theia had been temporarily incapacitated. They all were. I incinerated half her guards, those not shielded by the stone that had been broken and shattered in my wake. We were apprehended and brought in as prisoners of the sun kingdom, locked away wherever she spent her time.

  Theia came to visit me every few days. Standing outside the door and speaking through it while I sat on my dirty pile of bedding in the corner as she forced me to listen. She was incredibly narcissistic, misguided, corrupt. I recalled our conversations often.

  I could hear her heels click on the stone as she walked down the row of cells. I had never seen the outside of this cage, did not know where she was coming from. I woke up on the dirty ground, and the four dark walls surrounding me were all I knew of our dungeon.

  “Enjoying your stay?” She purred.

  I was silent. I
had no answers for Theia, no desire to engage with her sick games.

  “Come, darling. Speak with me.”

  Several moments passed before she sighed. “So be it. How does it feel, knowing I destroyed the deirach elixir before you even arrived at the capital of Ixket?”

  I bolted upright, hitting my back on the sharp jut of stone behind me just to hear her low, triumphant laugh. Heard Azael’s quiet groan from the cell next door. “Didn’t know that, did you? Ahhh,” she murmured, “the sweet sense of despair, of hopelessness.”

  I hissed, angry tears rising and fists clenched. I was trying so very hard to avoid speaking to the monster outside my cage. “You are in my power now,” she whispered. “My playthings, my toys to break, so enjoy your stay.” She ended on a scornful laugh, heels clicking as she walked away once more.

  I slumped on the floor, uncurling my fists and finally letting the tears fall. All we had been through, and we were so close, just to have Theia ruin it all by being one step ahead.

  “Don’t despair,” I heard Azael whisper. “All is not lost.”

  The sound of a door slamming broke me from my memories, the sound of a battle cry. “Let me go, filthy stupid bastards!” The woman growled. I heard a scuffle along the walls, the sound of someone hitting the floor, and the door slamming once more.

  “Hello?” She whispered tentatively.

  “Callisa?” I practically shouted, in fear or excitement I did not know.

  “Oh, Aeryn,” she sobbed. “I was so worried. None of you came back, it was just supposed to be a few days, and our allies were still traveling. Bram and Kaelen wanted to wait; Eleste and Elias would have come, but someone needed to stay behind to welcome the others.”

  “It’s alright, Callisa,” I soothed. “We’re okay.”

  “Callisa,” Azael sighed from his cell next to mine. “I’m so glad you’re okay but so incredibly angry that you are here. How did this happen?”

  “I didn’t know; one minute I was walking up the steps to the palace, the next, a crossbow bolt hit me in the stomach and another in the head, putting me into a healing sleep instantly.”