Crown of Sunlight

by Payton Taylor

  Leo started walking quickly toward her and didn’t stop until his shoulder bumped into hers, causing her to slosh her drink.

  “Oops, sorry,” Leo said. When Josephine looked up, Leo widened his eyes. “Oh, Princess! I am so sorry, Your Highness!” He pretended to fumble over his fake apology.

  When the girl stood straight, she was as tall as Leo in her heels. Leo leaned back a bit in surprise. Not many people were tall enough to look him in the eye. Her eyes were darker than the king's, shining like sapphires while his simply reflected pale light. There was something there, a certain intelligence, like she saw through his façade, though he knew she couldn’t read his shielded thoughts.

  “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she said, her eyes glancing over them both to make sure she hadn’t spilled her drink on their clothes. When her gaze met his, she frowned, a line forming between her brows. “Your thoughts. . .” she trailed off. “They’re strange, as if they’re surrounded by a brick wall.”

  Shock surged through him as her words registered. A brick wall. She was literally seeing the wall that protected his inner thoughts, the wall he hid behind his outer thoughts.

  He backed up a step, and she tracked it, her frown turning into an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, that was so rude! I didn’t mean to, I can’t control it yet—” her words were cut off as Leo awkwardly bowed his head and practically ran off before she could finish her sentence.

  He hadn’t felt that exposed in years, that close to having his mind invaded. The fact that she saw what neither Azmodeous nor Cerise had so much as noticed. . .how powerful was she? He needed to work on his shielding before he could face her again.

  His frantic heartbeat began to slow as he edged his way around the room, listening in on private conversations. He skidded to a halt when he reached the edge of the crowd.

  There stood the queen, a little ways away, half hidden in the shadows. She glanced around the room suspiciously before making her way to the servant’s entrance.

  Turning invisible, Leo followed.

  She made her way to a private sitting room and looked down the hall both ways before stepping inside. Leo heard the door close and lock behind her, so he used his Gift to walk through the wall after her.

  When he entered the room, she was standing in front of a mirror hanging on the wall. She held a knife in her hand, where it had come from, Leo couldn’t say. Reaching into the pocket of her gown, she drew out a vial of dark liquid. The queen sat it on a small table in front of the mirror. Pushing her sleeve up, she drew the knife across the inside of her forearm, making a deep cut. Her expression remained neutral, she didn’t even flinch. She held the vial to the cut, letting the leaking blood pool into the opening. As soon as it had collected what she deemed to be enough, she lifted the vial and, to Leo’s disgust, drank the entire bottle.

  She sat the empty vial down and stared at her reflection in the mirror for several moments with a blank look on her face. Then, looking down at her arm, she drew her index finger through the blood, watching it spread as if transfixed. As she continued to swirl her finger through the blood she began to mumble to herself, so Leo drew closer to hear.

  “To the tomb. . .blood will fall. . .path of darkness, path of light. . .but who decides what is right?” The queen let out a girlish giggle that chilled Leo to the bone. The giggle grew as she drew her gaze up to meet her own eyes in the mirror until she seemed to be laughing with herself, as if she was laughing with an old friend.

  As her laughter faded, the blank expression swept back over her face, sweeping away anything human. Without another word, she wrapped a piece of cloth around her wound with a practiced hand, pulled down her sleeve, and left the room as if nothing had happened.

  After she had gone, Leo stood there dumbfounded. He knew the queen had the Withering, but he had never seen it affect the mind in such a way. He would have to keep a close eye on Queen Asteria when he could.

  He would keep this information to himself until he understood her behavior. He hadn’t been happy when he’d handed over the information of her illness to the king without any further details. Not only that, he’d given it away for free and had gained no leverage. Sure, it had saved that girl, and he was glad it had, but information was currency, and he was unaccustomed to giving it away for free.

  Leo found his way back to the ballroom and immediately found Airoldi, brooding in the corner. Maybe his dance hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. “Love got you down, son?” Leo asked in his most fatherly voice.

  Airoldi clenched his jaw before letting out a resigned sigh. “The king is going to take her, and we’re just going to stand here and let it happen.”

  Normally, Leo would scoff at the general’s uneasiness with doing what was necessary, but he, too, was uneasy with the knowledge that these two powerful women would be under the king’s control. Their world was going to change. But he and Airoldi were no match for the king’s army, so, instead of fighting, they had to stick to surviving.

  Instead of his usual snarky remark, Leo remained quiet. He and Airoldi stood side by side in sullen silence. Waiting. Leo felt Westin stiffen beside him and he knew the king had arrived even before Westin said, “It’s time.”

  Chapter 21

  Jo

  Writhia, 5219

  Vianna

  Jo was sitting at the bar, still puzzling over her strange encounter with the even stranger man. He had been using a shield, she was sure of it. She had seen it in his mind, a solid mass hidden behind the floating mundane thoughts that seemed to dominate his mind. It was an impenetrable wall of black stone, reinforced with steel. She had never seen such a closely protected mind. It bordered on paranoia.

  It had also been strangely familiar, as if her mind and his had brushed against each other before, though she couldn’t say where. A man as tall and richly dressed as he had been would definitely have made an impression.

  Stranger yet, he had run from her. Her Gift had scared him, frightened him the way it appeared to frighten others. Those she had been spending most of her time with didn't seem bothered by her ability, and it made the frantic reactions of others all the more painful. Jo had never been intimidating before, let alone downright frightening.

  “Drink.” A hand slapped loudly against the bar, startling Jo out of her reverie. She looked over to see Khione leaning against the bar. Or maybe it was holding her up.

  “Are you alright?” Jo asked, amused. She had never dreamed of seeing prim and proper Khione in such a state.

  In response, Khione turned toward the dining area where Marzanna was sitting with her parents, talking merrily. Khione let out a sound of disgust.

  “Is something wrong with Marzanna’s family?” Jo couldn’t begin to guess what could be wrong with the happy family scene in front of her.

  “No, they’re perfect,” Khione slurred, “juuust perfect.”

  “And you’re not perfect?” Jo asked. Next to Marzanna, Khione was one of the most perfect people she had ever met. She wished Sunny was there, she was better at this. “Do her parents have something against you?” Jo asked, wondering what anyone could possibly have against her.

  Khione let out huff, which Jo assumed meant yes.

  “Does her father not approve that you’re a woman?”

  Khione looked at her as if she was incredibly dumb. Jo wasn’t used to getting that look.

  “Why would that matter?” she asked. “It’s because I’m not good enough. I mean, Madow’s wind, look!” She flung her arm back and forth dramatically, as if that highlighted some great difference.

  Now Jo was really confused, “What do you mean, ‘not good enough’? You’re the queen’s advisor! She looks to you for guidance and counsel. You’re one of the most important people in this country!”

  Khione smiled sadly, “If only it were that simple. Look at her. Look at my Mark!”

  Jo looked back and forth between Marzanna and Khione’s intricate snowflake Mark, still not understanding.


  “I’M NOT POWERFUL ENOUGH!” she practically shouted. Several people turned to look at them, and she lowered her voice to what she thought was a normal level, but was still a bit loud. “She would need an equal Match, someone as powerful as she is. It’s what her government is based on.”

  Jo frowned, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! How can her parents not approve? They don’t even know you!”

  Khione sighed. “They don’t need to know me. All they need to know is that I’m only as powerful as the common citizen. That’s all her father needed to know before he told me to stay away from her when he first noticed we were becoming close. And Marzanna loves her father, so I couldn’t tell her he said something like that to me. So, I just distanced myself from her, and I never explained why, and now she hates me. And I can’t help it and all I want is to be near her, and hear her laugh, but I can’t think of any way to make it happen.” It seemed Khione had loose lips after she’d had a few too many.

  Jo snorted, “Marzanna does not hate you. I don’t know if she’s even capable of hate. And why do you keep saying ‘Match’?” Jo asked, wondering why she had chosen that word when there were so many other, more normal words.

  Khione took a long drink from her glass, draining it before she motioned to the bartender to fill it again.

  Jo wondered if she should cut her off at some point.

  "Your Match is your other half, the person who you will come to love more than anyone else. The person that is best suited for you out of every single person on Writhia."

  “It happens when you touch each other: skin on skin contact. Science can’t really explain it, but something in your hormones line up and from then on you’re drawn to each other. But it goes deeper than that. You can feel each other's emotions, sense when the other is near. It’s not extremely common, but every time it’s happened the Matches fall in love and love each other for the rest of their days. Because it only seems to happen to people in love, some of the more romantic theorists say Matches are chosen by Leibbe, the goddess of love. She chooses these people because certain bloodlines need to cross for certain people who will eventually play great roles in Writhia’s future to be born.” Khione was smiling slightly, as if she liked that idea, the romanticism of it all.

  “Others say that since it usually happens between people with powerful Gifts, it’s evolution's way of ensuring the survival of our Gifts and, through them, the survival of our species.” Khione looked less fond of this theory.

  “Either way, to be apart from one’s Match is extremely difficult. There’s always a pull, a yearning that doesn’t leave until the Matches are together.” Her voice was soft and a bit sad. Jo had been about to ask if Marzanna was Khione's Match, but the look in her eyes told her more than words ever could.

  Jo slid over and put her arm around Khione.

  She wasn’t that great at comforting people, but she wanted Khione to know she was there if she needed her.

  Khione let out a shuddering sigh and straightened before pasting a fake smile on her face. “Excuse me. I must find the queen.”

  Jo watched her go and looked over at Marzanna and her family. Emperor Timan was watching Khione leave, a stern frown on his face. Jo still wasn’t sure why he would care about how powerful Khione was.

  She resolved to ask someone who was sober and started heading toward Seren and Kian. They would explain it all, and then Seren would make her laugh, and Kian would glower, and Jo would feel somewhat normal again.

  She was making her way toward the dance floor, to cut across the room, when she felt a stirring in her thoughts. It started as a slight nudging, a drifting thought that maybe she had seen them heading the opposite way. But, as she walked, it grew into a full-blown urgency to go the opposite direction. Distantly, she knew she was heading the right way, but her body turned abruptly, nearly knocking over a dignitary and his wife. She felt as if she was in her nightmare again, her body moving outside of her control.

  She told herself to stop, but she kept walking.

  Her brain screamed at her body, commanding it to listen, but she continued forward.

  She felt a dark presence in the back of her mind, watching. She pushed against it with her thoughts, trying to shove it out of her mind.

  For a moment, she was successful. She was able to stop walking and opened her mouth to alert someone nearby, but the presence shoved its way back in, forcing her to close her mouth and move.

  Her mind was caught in a vice-like grip, and she beat against it with her thoughts until they were bruised and bloodied. She felt something warm and wet begin to drip from her nose. She looked down as far as she could without moving her head and saw drops of red hit her dress and splatter against the floor. She hoped someone would notice, but she had cleared the crowd. She was almost to the servant’s entrance, hidden behind massive golden pillars.

  With a final desperate push, she shoved against the darkness and it snapped, the bonds falling from her mind. She whirled and started running toward the crowd. Just before she could clear the seclusion of the pillars, the darkness was back, and now it was seething. It wrapped around her mind so tightly she thought she might pass out and her vision dimmed. This time she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried.

  By then, she had reached the servant’s entrance and was walking through the door. When she emerged on the other side, three Viannese guards were waiting for her. One of the guards lunged forward, and Jo felt a burst of sharp pain in the back of her skull before everything went black.

  *****

  When Jo came to, she opened her eyes, but everything was still black. She panicked and reached for her face, only to find that she couldn’t move her arms.

  “Relax, love,” a deep voice spoke next to her, startling her. “It’s only a blindfold.”

  Her head ached, and she dimly remembered the guard hitting her in the head with some sort of baton. “Master Dubois?” she asked groggily.

  The man next to her let out a dark chuckle.

  “Not quite.”

  Terror-stricken, Jo began bucking wildly, throwing her body from side to side and kicking her legs in the voice’s direction while screaming, “HELP! HELP! SOMEBO—”

  “Enough of that,” the man snapped, cutting her off.

  Jo’s entire body went rigid. Her mouth clamped shut, unable to scream.

  They must have been in a transport because she heard an engine start and felt them begin to move. Her heart was racing, pumping adrenaline through her body that she couldn’t use.

  She was trapped.

  “You must get your fire from your mother,” the stranger said, his tone amused.

  What does he know of my mother? Jo wondered.

  “I know quite a bit about your mother, love.” Jo had forgotten he could read her mind.

  Who are you? How did you know my mother? Why did you kidnap me? She sent a million questions barreling toward him. “She was my close friend during her time here in Writhia. She, Sylvius and I were inseparable. I loved her, as Sylvius loved her, but she chose him over me. So, I waited patiently, doing my best to support the happy couple. When Sylvius died, it was the worst day of my life. It was also the best. Because Eleyna turned to me to comfort her, and in those months after his death, we grew close. Without Sylvius’ shadow to hide me, Eleyna saw how much I cared for her. She understood how well we worked together.” His voice was fond, and Jo could hear his conviction.

  She tried to peek into his thoughts, to see if he told the truth, but she was shut out by a solid black wall, seamless with no hint of weakness. Jo pounded against it, but it accomplished nothing and gave her a headache.

  He chuckled again. “You’re very much like her, but you favor me in looks. Yes, I knew you were mine from the moment I saw you.” His voice was heavy with satisfaction, as if she was a prize he had won.

  Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “Yes, love,” the dark voice crooned. “I am your father.”

  Ch
apter 22

  Westin

  Writhia, 5219

  Vianna

  Westin watched as Queen Asteria and Princess Noelani advanced to the balcony where they had first entered. Noelani's head was whipping back and forth, most likely searching for Jo.

  Westin knew she wasn't coming.

  Anxiety boiled in his gut. He knew the plan was already in motion. He and his soldiers would be the diversion the King required, once the princess had been taken. If they were lucky, they could leave soon without causing destruction.

  Gods be with us , Westin thought.

  At first, the king had wanted to abduct both of the princesses. That had been the plan all along. But tonight, before they’d left for Vianna, he’d pulled Westin aside.

  “Change of plans. I only need Princess Josephine,” King Azmodeous had told him. “I do not fancy starting a war today.”

  Westin didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that the king was “only” taking his own daughter. He was bringing her home, where she belonged. At least, that’s the way Azmodeous would see it. Josephine was no blood relation to Queen Asteria.

  This was the part when the queen would give the last toast and thank everybody for coming. Westin knew by the look in Noelani's eyes that she was on the verge of panicking after not seeing her sister. He could feel just how distressed she was.

  She was whispering to the queen, moving her arms frantically. The queen looked as if she was trying to comfort her, but her gaze was bouncing around the room nervously.

  A dark-haired man ran up to the stage with another man on his heels.

  Westin remembered them as Kian and Seren from the Lorlean tribes. Seren was sweating, skipping on the pads of his feet, and motioning his arms uncontrollably, as if he couldn't get out the words he was attempting to say. Kian stepped in front of the man as if shielding him.

  "Princess Josephine has been kidnapped by the Ettrian King," he stated mournfully. "We're so sorry."