The King's Secret

by Maryam Durrani

  It circled the sky above me, close enough for me to the hear the sound of its scales clicking against each other as it twisted and turned.

  Sweat beaded on my forehead, dripping down the sides of my face. The clothes under the layers of armor and chainmail stuck to my skin.

  The drakon got closer, swooping downwards. At the same

  time, I grabbed the top of the ladder, pulling myself up.

  Horrified, I froze.

  The ballista was empty.

  The huge contraption stood tall without an arrow, and without the explosives.

  There was no plan.

  The drakon slammed against the tower, throwing me dozens of feet away. I landed on my shoulder which screamed in pain. The other tower was almost fifty feet away and another twenty feet tall.

  I wasn’t going to make it.

  The drakon opened its jaws above me, the air from its beating wings not giving me a chance to breathe. My head pounded as I gasped for air. Its stomach lit with orange as the beast looked down me.

  I shut my eyes.

  “See you in the next life,” I whispered, echoing Ashes’s words.

  With one final, mighty roar, the drakon breathed its fire towards me. Through the darkness of my eyelids, bright colors exploded.

  White-hot heat enveloped me.

  THIRTY THREE

  I sat up, choking as I inhaled air, grabbing at my throat. My body trembled—from fear or pain, I couldn’t tell.

  I looked at my hands.

  There were no signs of burns.

  I looked down to see the edges of my armor glowing like lava from the heat of the fire.

  How?

  I was surrounded by a ring of fire, flames on either side of me. My vision was distorted, my thoughts a mess.

  Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps. I gripped my shoulder, gritting my teeth as I tried to find the source. A figure stepped through the rising flames.

  Aedon Sarafian.

  Impossible.

  She couldn’t have survived the fire.

  But she had.

  Her dark, straight hair fell open around her, the long sword in her grasp.

  “You look a bit confused, Adalia. I thought you would’ve figured it out by now.”

  I lunged for my sword which lay a few feet away. A shock ran up my shoulder and I grunted, fighting the worsening ache.

  She had killed the queen.

  Ashes. My apprentice. Dead, because of her.

  Now it was my turn to get revenge.

  With a fierce cry, I held up my sword, launching my body towards her. She sidestepped, dodging my attack.

  “You’re a smart girl—you’ll piece it together. After all,” she sneered, “you are my daughter.”

  My heart sank, stomach twisting.

  “What?”

  Like a flash of light, Aedon whipped around, slamming the base of her hilt against my cheekbone. I felt the skin split, my eye beginning to swell. The sword was knocked many feet away, out of my reach.

  I crawled onto my knees, a wave of nausea rising up my throat.

  My body trembled as I saw the drakon circling above us. She walked towards me, boots clicking against the ground. I opened my mouth to spit at her, but the only thing that came out was, “daughter?”

  She walked towards me, kneeling.

  “Don’t touch me,” I spat.

  “I always admired you, Adalia,” she said, getting back to her feet and looking down at me. I gritted my teeth. “The Assassin of Astodia, King Sadim’s number one. Never did you lose a battle. You were his eyes and ears, his soul, his breath. Without you, that coward was nothing.

  “You see,” she said, twirling her sword as she kicked chunks of debris, circling around me with the same motions as the drakon, “you and I—we belong on the throne. It runs in our blood.”

  “I have . . . no idea . . . what you’re talking about.” I tried to sit up, but with a push of her boot, she had me flat on the ground again. I groaned as she pressed her boot against my shoulder, pushing it into the ground.

  “It was never King Tarquin who had elven blood running through his filthy veins. It was us.” She clenched her fist. “King Sadim always knew it—he had access to King Albion’s library and all of his hidden secrets, which is why he took you from me. He thought he had killed me, but I was always here—waiting for the right moment. I created the rebel army to distract him, I promised Clarice the throne if she killed him. I was the one who made my place beside King Adrean, who proposed for this war. To have all of the armies together in one place, where I could kill four birds with one stone.” Aedon looked up at the drakon, her laughter filled with menace.

  I rolled over as she lifted her boot, emptying the contents of my stomach onto the dirt and debris.

  “King Albion’s granddaughter never ruled over Trella. After realizing the truth about her heritage and how her grandfather had murdered her father along with the rest of the elves, she fled, leaving the throne for her mother. She went to search for survivors, but after years of searching, she never found any.

  “She vowed never to return to the castle, promising herself that she would preserve her bloodline in secret so that they’d never be abused for their power again.”

  Aedon’s lips curled into a hate-filled sneer.

  “Our greatest grandmother lived long with her elven blood. Elves could live up to hundreds of years, but as the family grew larger, the elven blood became thinner.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “King Sadim knew of us,” she continued, ignoring me, “through that library, he knew of us all. He thought we were dangerous,” she spat. “He thought we’d wake up one day and

  decide to take back Archaon. He killed the rest of her bloodline, Adalia. He destroyed them all.”

  I could hear the anger and loathing in her voice.

  “He killed my sisters, my parents. He hunted your father who had done nothing wrong, who protected us until the last moment. You, me, and Phoenix are the only ones left.”

  There it was. The sadness, seeping out through the walls of hatred built around her.

  “I left you behind on the doorstep of one of our neighbors and fled. I hoped you’d be safe if Sadim kept looking for me and we were as far away as possible from each other. I tried to throw him off track, but somehow, he found you as a baby. He took you from me and let you live a miserable life with people who didn’t want you. Then, he used your strength to use you as his weapon.”

  It was then when I realized how similar we looked—the same sharp, gray eyes, like the ocean during a storm. Our similar dark, long hair.

  “If you truly cared so much, you would’ve come back for me.”

  “I couldn’t. His people were looking for me. If I was killed, our bloodline would cease to exist. And by then I had already begun to build a new life again in Dystalphi, but Phoenix was nothing like you. She was supposed to be my second chance, a phoenix rising from the ashes of my despair. But instead of being intelligent, she was reckless. Grace was in her blood, but cleverness didn’t come with it. That came from your father and I, and was given to you.”

  “If you truly are who you say,” I said through clenched teeth, “why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Because I was waiting for this moment. I couldn’t release the drakon by itself, so I left clues. I sent Tarquin’s son to hide the ‘King’s note’ which revealed the location of the drakon, and instructed him to lead you to it.”

  “Why would he listen to you?” I was on all fours now, trying to stand up without pressuring my broken ankle.

  She smirked. “The promise of power, Adalia. The simplest way to make anyone,” she snapped her fingers, “fall into your trap.” In a flash, she was holding her sword to my throat, the sharp edge digging into my skin.

  Realization hit me in the chest like a cannonball, nearly knocking the wind out of my lungs.

  “It was you the whole time.”

  Aedon’s smirk got wid
er. “There we go.”

  “It was never Albion.” My eyes widened as I stared up at her. “It was never Albion. It was . . . you. You left the note about the egg, didn’t you?”

  Her jeering smile was enough confirmation for me.

  “King Albion never hid the egg. He wasn’t able to control the drakon. It was—”

  “The elves,” she finished, pulling the sword away from my skin. Aedon ran the flat side of the blade along her palm. “This was always our plan . . . to take back what was rightfully ours.” She closed her fist. “I planned to avenge my brothers and sisters, and when I heard you were still alive, as an assassin, I knew what I had to do.”

  “You used me,” I whispered.

  The malice slipped away from her face, Aedon’s expression softening. She kneeled in front of me, her palm brushing my cheek. She tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear, and suddenly, I felt myself needing her.

  My mother.

  She was alive.

  I felt a prickling sensation behind my eyes.

  “You made this possible, Adalia. I’m proud of you for that.”

  She wiped my cheek with her thumb, and I realized I was

  crying. There was pain starting from my chest, spreading into my whole body.

  I reached up to touch her hand.

  “What will you do now?”

  Just as fast as it had come, the softness in her features was

  gone.

  The sharpness had returned and she stood back up, turning her back to me. “I’m going to kill them all. Everyone of royal blood, and I’ve already begun.” She glanced to the spot where Lorelle had stood, directing the drakon’s attention away from me. “It’ll just be you and I from now on,” she whispered without looking at me, as if in a trance.

  “And Phoenix?” I asked.

  Phoenix. Ashes.

  My sister.

  My eyes widened. If she was related to me, there was a chance she could have survived the fire.

  She laughed humorlessly.

  “That fool can do what she wants—if the drakon hasn’t gotten to her yet. I thought sending her to follow you around would teach her something, but I was hanging on to false hope—one of the many downsides of being a mother.

  “Does she know?” About me? About her heritage?

  Aedon shook her head.

  “My grandmother was a Sarafian. I am a Sarafian. And you,” she said, sitting on her haunches, placing her finger under my chin to force me to look up at her, “are a Sarafian.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out an iridescent object.

  It was an exact copy of the flute Jax had discovered in the tunnels, the one that made no sound. With a jolt, I realized it was made from drakon scales.

  “To us, this sounds like music. To drakons, it’s a torturous tune. And to humans . . . it’s the sound of nothing, the way these ignorant fools have been living since the beginning. Only someone with elven blood can play it.”

  That explained why I had heard nothing when Jax had tried to play it in the tunnels.

  I watched as she lifted the flute to her mouth, moving her fingers as she played a sweet melody. Above us, the drakon screeched as it fell out of it circular loop, now swooping and flying in erratic and irregular patterns.

  The sound was beautiful and eerie at the same time.

  To think a flute could control such a menacing, murderous, bloodthirsty creature.

  She held the flute out towards me. “They fear it, as it is the cry of their fallen brothers. Can you guess what it’s made from?”

  “Their scales.”

  “This is the last one,” Aedon said, “and that’s the last drakon.”

  But it wasn’t the last flute.

  I reached into my pockets, searching for it.

  No.

  It was back in my room.

  “So,” she said, turning to me. “What do you say?” Aedon Sarafian, my mother, held out her hand. “Will you join me?”

  I wanted to take it. I wanted to make her proud. She had done horrible things, but she was still family. With a drakon on her side, she could do anything. She was here now, and she wanted me.

  Slowly, I got to my feet, shifting my weight to my good ankle. From the beginning, it was the elven blood inside me yearning for power. My sharp senses, hearing and seeing things that no one else could, perfect aim, strength, the lock on my emotions—it was all because of the bloodline.

  Sadim had never chosen me.

  He had picked up an elf, using me to kill rebels as he searched for my mother.

  It was my turn to get revenge.

  I reached forward, taking her outstretched hand.

  She smirked. “That’s what I—”

  Something awoke inside me. I yanked on her arm, ripping

  the elven sword from her grasp. I grabbed it, rolling away from

  her. Pain shot up my ankle as I landed on it, letting out a cry.

  Through gritted teeth, wiping at the wetness from my eyes, I pointed the sword at her. “Give me the flute.”

  My eyes scanned our surroundings, looking for a way to distract her. Looking up, I noticed a ballista at the top of another tower, which we had come closer to, and a rope ladder around ten feet away from us.

  Aedon took that as an opening.

  Sliding past me, she reached for the sword in my sheath, pulling it out smoothly.

  She had been fast—too fast.

  In that moment, I realized that I had finally found my equal on the battlefield.

  I spun around, holding up my sword to parry her attack. As I did, her blade crashed against mine.

  She was not holding back.

  She looked down at the sword in her hands, her eyes catching sight of the engraving on the hilt.

  Her steely eyes softened.

  “You . . . still have this?” she said, taken aback.

  “Queen Celeste gave it to me as a gift.”

  “Her?” Aedon barked out a laugh. “I carved this with my

  own hands, Adalia. This blade is made of elven metal. I wanted you to remember what I named you.”

  “Aedon, you don’t have to do this,” I pleaded. “There are better ways to get revenge than to kill everyone. I can help you, but not like this.”

  Her expression switched again. “I will kill all those who have wronged me, starting from Albion and Sadim’s descend-

  ants.”

  My heart pounded, chest rising and falling as I thought of

  Xavier. Aedon seemed to know what I was thinking.

  “There will be others.”

  “No,” I shook my head, slowly stepping back. I glanced at the ring on my finger, realizing it was still intact. I clenched my fist.

  “We don’t need him.”

  “I said, no.” As I stepped backward, nearing the ladder, she stepped forward.

  “You will find someone better, Adalia. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “No!” I shouted. I spun around, grabbing onto the ladder, and pulled myself up. The rope swung as I used my right hand and left foot to push myself upwards, holding the sword in the other. My injured ankle screamed in pain as I climbed the twenty-foot tower.

  Aedon was close behind, but as I climbed, I swung the ladder, causing her to hang on tightly. If either of us fell, there was no chance of survival.

  I kicked at her fingers as she got closer, keeping a distance between us. My boot missed a rung, and I felt a shiver run through my leg.

  I reached the edge, ready to haul myself up, my fingers scrabbling at the crumbling rock. Some of the wall gave away beneath my hands, causing me to grip onto the rope for dear

  life.

  The falling rock slowed Aedon down as she held up an arm to protect her head. I took that chance to haul myself over the edge, pulling myself onto the castle wall.

  Suddenly, things began to crash against the drakon. I looked over the side closest to me.

  I was shocked. Bewildered. Astonished.

  Amazed.


  Both armies had their artillery aimed, shooting the drakon,

  confusing it as the beast began to get hit from both sides. The archers aimed, shooting their elven metal at it, buying me time.

  It seemed as if they were . . . working together.

  The prophecy—whoever wrote it, King Albion or Aedon—was true.

  The weapon would either bring the kingdoms together or tear it apart forever. And for now, it was going in our favor.

  I tried to run, pulling my leg after me. I bit into my lip to focus the pain from my foot elsewhere.

  I saw the explosives lying at the base of the ballista.

  I could feel my heart pounding in my throat as I ran towards

  it.

  Almost there—

  Something slammed into me from the back. I was thrown forward, crashing to the ground.

  Aedon was on top of me, her arms wrapped around me tightly.

  “Fool,” she hissed, “an arrow cannot kill a drakon.”

  I fought her, trying to break free. My boot found her stomach, and she was thrown off of me. I staggered to my feet.

  She did as well.

  We faced each other. Her fierce gray eyes reflected mine as

  she held my sword, her chest rising and falling.

  She was me.

  I was her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I yelled as the wind blew in our faces. She was cornering me, pushing me towards the edge.

  I glanced down, the height making me feel dizzy. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

  She laughed, the sound carrying in the wind. Her dark hair

  blew ferociously around her head, armor stained with streaks of blood. She looked up at the drakon circling above our head

  and pulled out the flute.

  “This is your last chance,” she warned. “Come with me, or die.” Aedon brought the flute to her lips.

  I ran towards the ballista, fumbling with the large arrow that had explosives wrapped around it, and loaded the weapon.

  She took that as her answer.

  Aedon blew into the flute, playing an unearthly tune. I aimed the ballista.

  Above me, the drakon roared, sending shivers up my spine. Its screams rattled my bones, the wind blowing around me as it descended. I held my breath, aiming.

  The drakon’s wings beat against the air as it focused on me,