Shattered Heir (Broken Gods Book 1)

by N. M. Howell

  Rhea stepped forward once again, pressing the tip of the sword against her uncle’s chest. She wouldn’t bother wasting her words on him. He wasn’t worth it.

  Just the same, his words sank in the pit of her stomach as she knew them to be true. She would fail her people. She would fail her realm. She was a single girl, weak and nervous and out of practice in the ways of magic. But as she stood there, she knew she would at least go down fighting.

  She might fail her people, but she wouldn’t go down in history as the coward who ran away. She would go down strong, doing everything in her power to take her uncle out. And that realization fueled her, sending a new wave of determination through her very core, strengthening her resolve and making her feel a lot more confident about what she was about to do.

  “Rhea run,” Keaven called from the far side of the room. He was lying sprawled on the ground, using every ounce of his energy and effort to try and push himself up, but he kept collapsing, hardly able to breathe.

  “Run, Rhea!” Arry shouted from the opposite side of the room. He was using the wall to steady himself, hardly able to stand. He was doing everything he could to try and make his way toward her, but he was he too was failing. Her uncle was too strong, he had stripped everyone of their strength and magic, yet still they fought to try and help her.

  Tears welled up in her eyes once again as she realized how fortunate she was to have such incredible guardians. They weren’t simply protecting her because it was their duty. They were doing it because they loved her. And she had abandoned them. Her heart ached for all of them as she realized just how much now she needed them. Not just for their protection and their strength, but because she needed them as companions. She needed them to be together so they could be whole.

  At that exact moment, she realized how empty she had been without them in her life the past six years. With all six of them together, they were whole. She finally felt it, but it was now too late.

  Rhea’s mind then fell back to the memory of the circus. The prophecy from the fortune teller who told her the awful words Rhea hadn’t wanted to believe. The six will die. Only one will remain.

  She swallowed hard, refusing to believe it. Tears streamed down her face freely now as she held the glowing sword steady before her. The glowing amethyst shone bright, pulsing in the room, casting waves of purple magic around them. The sword was positively luminous, the magic coursing through her veins growing stronger with every second that she held it.

  Her uncle’s eyes fell to the glowing stone, which grew brighter in her hands than it had ever shone in his. “What are you doing to it?”

  Rhea shook her head. She didn’t understand what was happening, she wasn’t doing anything. The sword seemed to have a life of its own.

  But as she stared down at it, realization dawned on her. While the prophecy said that her guardians would die, one would remain. Did that mean that she was going to survive? Or perhaps one of them would?

  She cleared her throat and braced herself, a small glimmer of hope setting in her very core as she clung on to that one small part of the prophecy. Perhaps if one could survive, they could find a way to save the rest.

  She would do everything in her power to take out her uncle, but she would also try and save herself so she then in turn could save her guardians.

  Rhea sucked in a quick breath, then let it out slowly. She forced thoughts of prophecy to the back of her mind so she could focus on the task at hand. She allowed her muscles to still. She focused on her uncle as she took one more step forward.

  Just as she was about to lunge at Aelon, he screamed and stepped forward, his arms raised in the middle of a spell. An incantation formed under his lips, the air grew hot and heavy around her, his magic flared, and the room turned dark.

  Rhea braced herself, holding the sword up toward him as she lunged forward to meet him. Her uncle was so consumed in his spell, his eyes fixed on her own, he didn’t notice her lunging forward. The sword she held in her hand plunged deep into his stomach, interrupting his focus as his eyes shot wide open and a loud cry of pain escaped his lips.

  He gave a bloodcurdling yell as the sword not only pierced his skin, but penetrated all the way beneath his ribcage and out his back. She could feel the resistance of his spine as the metal slipped through his body like water. He’d already lunged forward casting a spell, and his body slid along the full length of the sword, nearly hitting the hilt with the front of his robes.

  He stared at her with wide eyes, confused at what had happened. She looked down at the sword that had sunk fully into his body and then back up. Her uncle’s amber eyes flared with anger as he leaned toward her, shrieking. His cries echoed around the hall and shook the ground around her. His rage fueled his magic as he cast a severe storm around them.

  Rhea wanted to step back, but she couldn’t pull the sword out. It was set deep into his torso and she couldn’t let go.

  Aelon pulled his magic toward them, and she was too afraid to react. She was too afraid to move. She tried to summon her own magic, but she was blocked. There was something strange connecting her to the sword, its own magic overpowering her own.

  While she tried to pull the sword out of her uncle, her guardians slowly made their way toward her, bracing themselves for attack. But as the storm raged and the pressure built, thunder sounded above them at her uncle’s fury. She stepped closer toward him pushed the sword in the final inch so that the hilt was right up against his skin, and lifted it, feeling it slice through his flesh as she pulled up with all her strength. He screeched even louder, reaching his arms forward as his body quivered.

  She was waiting for him to collapse, but he didn’t. His magic held them alive, his body rising up in the storm from an electrical energy that buzzed around them. She could feel it prickle her skin, pressing in on her, the pressure unbearable. She felt like she was going to explode, as if her ears were going to rupture.

  Her uncle looked positively maniacal. He was shaking uncontrollably, blood spilling all over her hands and down over the weapon and onto the floor, pooling around them. But still his magic held him up.

  Rhea held on tight as she fought against the energy of the storm.

  Her guardians had managed to weakly push themselves up, struggling through the magic that flashed around them as they pushed forward to join her in the center of the room. They each placed a hand against her, holding her steady when they arrived, as the storm threatened to pull them all away. The ground shook beneath them, but Rhea remained focused.

  Her uncle finally shouted and shook, and with one final effort she lifted the sword and sliced up through his heart.

  She pulled the sword out, wielding it before her. Aelon looked up at her, his eyes raging, yet his body limp. He hung in the air. Lightning pulsed through him as his eyes flashed a deep crimson red. The storm seemed the only thing keeping him alive.

  “This is not over, Rhea,” he shouted.

  “It looks pretty over to me,” she shouted back. Her voice was barely audible over the crackling of the thunder around them. The storm was huge, a hurricane in the room threatening to tear the castle apart.

  She struggled to remain standing. She kept her knees bent and her stance close to the ground.

  Her uncle’s form floated inches above the pool of his own blood.

  With one final shriek and a blast of powerful green energy that flooded through the room, blinding her, her uncle disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, leaving them alone in the suddenly eerie silence.

  Rhea stood there frozen in place, her grip tight on the sword for a long moment as they stood there, the storm subsiding and the room returning to its normal state of silence. She counted down from six to steady herself.

  Then she collapsed on the floor. The sword fell and clattered to the ground, landing in the pool of her uncle’s blood.

  She pressed her hands against the hard stone floor as she sat there convulsing, hyperventilating. Then she let out a loud gut-wrenching scream, re
leasing all the pent-up energy and tension that threatened to tear her apart. She rolled on her back, staring up at the cracked stone roof above them. The room had nearly been blown to pieces from the storm, and her four guardians stood above her, looking down at her.

  They were weak, hardly able to stand, but as they gazed down at her their eyes wide and full of pride, she looked up at them and began to weep. They were alive, or most of them were. They’d survived and she had taken out her uncle. She didn’t know where he went, whether he was alive or dead, but he was gone for now and that was all that mattered.

  She closed her eyes and let the blackness take over.

  27

  Rhea woke up sometime later in a soft bed, her entire body aching and her eyes hardly able to stay open.

  She gazed up at the tall, stone ceiling for a long while before she was able to move.

  It took her a long moment to gather her bearings. She painfully pushed herself up to a seated position, her body sinking deep into the soft, plush mattress that she had been lying on. Light pink silk sheets spread across the bed and plush pillows clustered all around her.

  She looked around the room, blinking through the soft tears as recognition filled her. This had been her mother’s room.

  The room flickered from the shadows of the curtains fluttering in the open window. It was a large room, circular, the top of a nearby tower above the throne room. Rhea had spent many hours there as a kid with her mother, playing games and singing songs.

  Her throat tightened at the memory, and she slowly pushed herself off the bed walked to the large mirror that hung on the far wall.

  She hardly recognized the girl who stared back at her.

  The memory of the previous events came flooding back all at once, and she gasped, digging her nails into the heavy wooden posts at the foot of the bed, steadying herself. Her skin was bruised and cut. Small patterns in a deep green color crisscrossed the ends of her fingers, a sign of magical scar tissue. She flexed her fingers in front of her eyes, and shook them, trying to dissipate the remnants of the magic from the battle she had fought.

  She remembered her uncle attacking, and she remembered pushing the sword deep into his gut. He’d laughed, blood pooling around them, before disappearing.

  She had won.

  She stepped closer toward the mirror and placed her hand against the cold surface, gazing deep into her own eyes.

  She allowed herself the freedom of removing her glamor. The thin tendrils of familiar magic that wound around her core dissipated and unwound, revealing her true self after being hidden for so long. Her eyes glowed brighter and her hair shone a deep rose gold. Her fae ears extended from beneath her hair, and as she stood in silence looking at her reflection, she couldn’t help but think of her mother. She looked so much like her now that she was an adult, and her heart ached deeply from missing her so much.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat as her eyes pulled away from the mirror toward the billowing curtains. She walked over to the open window, closing her eyes as the soft breeze cooled her skin, blowing her hair around her.

  Her clothes itched as the blood-soaked fabric scratched against her skin. She looked around the room to see if there was something she could change into. She slowly made her way toward the washing chamber and ran herself a warm bath.

  After removing her torn oversized clothing, she stepped into the hot water. She splashed the water up to wash the blood from her skin. She held her hands beneath the fresh falling water and splashed her face, invigorating herself as the clean water washed away the remnants of the battle that clung to her skin.

  She sat there for nearly an hour, wondering where everyone else was. Had anyone survived? Her entire body felt numb, her mind confused.

  When she was clean, she pushed herself out of the massive tub and walked naked into her mother’s room, looking around to see if anything remained that she could change into.

  She walked slowly toward the far wall, opening the large doors into a walk-in closet. Stepping inside, she stifled a quiet sob. The large room still smelled so much like her mother. She closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet swell of her perfume, a light floral and honey scent that tightened Rhea’s heart in her chest. She ran her hands along the clothes that were folded on the shelves and finally came upon an outfit that hung on the far wall. She gazed up at it, her voice catching in her throat.

  “I miss you, mom,” she said quietly.

  Her eyes stung as tears brimmed her lids, and she wiped them away as she sucked in a steadying breath. Gazing up at the dress that hung on the wall, she couldn’t help but feel her bond to her mother grow stronger. The outfit was stunning. She had never seen her mother wear it before, but it was exactly her style. It was the type of clothing the royal guardians would wear as they stood next to the king on official business.

  It was a long turquoise gown, a soft satin that hung low over the arms and flowed far behind the wearer. Light armor graced the sleeves and the front chest—the typical style of fae royals. Her mother had been a demigod, not a royal herself, but as a guardian to the god king, she had been allowed clothing such as this.

  Rhea reached out and traced her fingers along the intricate symbols emblazoned on the armor. She then reached up and pulled the dress from the rack, carrying it delicately and letting it out on the large bed. She stared down, considering it. She blinked through the tears at the overwhelming sight.

  It looked like it would fit her, her mother having been the same size Rhea was now that she was fully grown. She bent forward and lifted the beautiful gown, slowly stepping into it and lifting the thin bands of satin over her shoulders. She shimmied her shoulders, allowing the lightweight armor to settle against her skin. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made for her.

  She turned to the mirror and gasped and she looked at her reflection. Her mother was looking back at her, with her long rose hair and immaculate elegance. She didn’t recognize herself as she stood there for a long moment gazing into her own reflection, feeling as if the events of the past week were but a dream.

  She wondered if she walked out back into the courtyard, whether her mother and father and everyone from her childhood would be there. Standing here alone in her mother’s room, it felt like nothing had changed.

  But, so much had changed. Everyone she once knew at Greystone was gone, and the world was no longer what she remembered it. Steadying her breath as she clasped the final piece of armor behind her neck, she ran her fingers through her hair, the same nervous gesture she had picked up over the past few years. She took a long moment to mentally prepare herself to leave the room that felt so much like home. She feared what awaited her on the other side of that door.

  Resigning herself to the inevitable, Rhea left her mother’s room and walked down the long hallway barefoot, her footsteps echoing quietly as she made her way down the winding stairs and back to the throne room where the battle had ensued

  She didn’t know how much time had passed, but as she neared the room she could feel the prickle of energy from her guardians pressing against her skin in a familiar warm way that made her smile. She came upon the closed door and stopped, breathing slowly as she tried to calm her heart rate that hammered within her chest.

  Pressing her hands against the door, she closed her eyes and let out another soft breath before pushing it open and stepping into the room. The soft chatter that filled the room stopped immediately as she stepped inside.

  The gazes of her four guardians and Crystalline stared back at her.

  “Welcome, Princess,” Crystalline said as she pushed herself to a standing position on the far side of the large table.

  Rhea couldn’t help the broad smile that spread across her face as she looked into the sparkling eyes of her guardians and her cousin. She ran to them, embracing each of them in turn. But her heart sank as she realized Grayson wasn’t there.

  She looked around the room, her eyes finally settling on the large gargoyle who lay on a makeshift
bed on the far side of the room, beneath a large window that cast warm daylight over him. She ran to him, kneeling at his side. She placed her hand on his chest and grew cold when she didn’t feel his chest rise. She couldn’t look back to her other guardians; her body was frozen as she stared down at him.

  Tears began to fill her eyes again as she leaned over him, unable to form words. She wanted to cry out to him, to tell him to return to her. A single tear fell from her eyes and landed on his cheek, falling down along the chiseled bone structure and down beneath his ear. She placed her hands on other side of his face, and leaned into him, her soft lips pressing against his own.

  He kissed her back.

  Rhea gasped, pulling away from him as she watched his chest rise. She jumped and stared down at him, her eyes growing wide as his own open to meet her gaze.

  “Is that all it takes for you to kiss me?” he croaked up at her, his voice hoarse and strained. He winced as he spoke, and it was clear he was in an extreme amount of pain.

  Rhea’s mouth hung open as her heart beat wildly in her chest. “Grayson, you’re okay?”

  She began shaking uncontrollably as her hands lay on his chest. She took his hands in hers and squeezed them as she cried.

  He smiled up at her with sparkling deep gray eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”

  Rhea shook her head in disbelief. She then raised her hand and smacked him hard in the shoulder, wincing at the impact.

  “Don’t ever do that again to me,” she shouted at him, her voice sharp. Her entire body convulsed with relief, unsure whether she was happy to see he was alive or angry at how much he had frightened her.

  Grayson and let out a soft chuckle and took her hand again in his, massaging her sore flesh from where she had hit him, not letting her pull away. “When are you going to learn that you hurt yourself every time you hit me, Princess?”