Queen of Chaos (Legacy of the Nine Realms, #5)(45)
“That isn’t on me though,” I pointed out. “I get that there’s a lot of history between our people, but they didn’t teach us anything inside the Tenth Realm that didn’t pertain to Hecate or her being the savior of the land.” Eva’s shoulders dropped before she exhaled, nodding decisively. “Tell me about Zyion.”
“Zyion was Scylla’s Head Guard. He dishonored Scylla when he left her side during a skirmish. When he returned, she’d had her throat slit from ear to ear. Dragons were responsible for her death, of course.” Her eyes lowered as her mouth turned into a white line of tension. “His version of the story is that he’d chased off an enemy, then returned to find her, along with all of his men, deceased. The Queen’s Guard is forbidden to abandon the queen, but he did so on that day. No witnesses were available to confirm or deny what happened. A queen died on his watch. So, if you’re asking if you should trust him? The answer is no. Zyion Vicious isn’t worthy of guarding anyone, let alone the next queen to rule our kingdom. He also has a sinister side. One very few have lived to talk about afterward. Those who do are normally the ones he’s shared a bed with. It’s that he’s cruel and has a violence within him that isn’t tamable.”
“I’m not interested in what he does behind closed doors. But if they think he murdered the queen, why would they allow him to remain here? Obviously, they don’t think he is to be trusted, as you just pointed out.”
“Because he’s invaluable against dragons.” Eva spoke of him with reverence, telling me she’d been one of those ‘bedmates’ she spoke of. “Once we’re outside, do nothing to draw attention to yourself until we reach the dais. Griffon will be there waiting for you both. The match will begin once each warrior is granted an item of his choosing from a maiden. Please, don’t upset Aden any more than you’ve already done.”
“Didn’t realize we were heading into some medieval shitshow,” I muttered beneath my breath.
Esme snickered, and scenes from A Knight’s Tale played inside my head. We exited the corridor, then took winding steps down to the main floor. Throughout the entire hallway, paintings depicting battles, or Scylla with a man, who I assumed was Tirsynth, in various poses. I didn’t get time to study any of the images before Eva whisked us into luscious gardens. Passing a large, exquisitely crafted statue of twin phoenixes in flight, which was surrounded by children. One of the tiny girls looked up, smiling as I met her stare. Returning her smile, I noted the mothers gathered behind her, who all watched me with curious gazes.
As Eva approached the wide, heavily guarded gates, they were flung open to allow us to enter a heavily populated area filled with vibrantly colored tents. Each one appeared to be selling goods or wares of varying items. Cool air drifted over my shoulders, then forced goosebumps over my flesh as the scent of savory meats, sweetened berries, and excitement drifted on the breeze as we moved through the multitude of tents. Eva stopped at a tent with a large table filled with brilliantly colored strips of fabric and plucked up a sheer, silver strip for me and then a crimson and onyx-colored one for Esme.
“The royal coffers will pay the coin,” she told the merchant. “Esme, silver represents the Royal House of Fafnir. Red and black indicate the House of Prometheus.”
“I’m a Prometheus?” she asked without accepting the slip of fabric.
“You are. You both are, but only one of you holds the bloodline of Scylla Prometheus.”
“So, if I’m a Prometheus, then who is my father?” Esme asked, her lips tugging at the corners when Eva eyed her guardedly. “He doesn’t want to meet me, does he?” The dejection in Esme’s tone forced tightness in my chest.
“Leopold Prometheus isn’t a nice person, Esmeralda. I wouldn’t take it personal. He’s not a loving father, either. It’s not like you’re missing out by his aloofness of his offspring. Leopold is Tirsynth’s brother, and also your father. Griffon sent Leopold into the mountains a few nights ago. Considering the number of women within the towns outlining the forest, I don’t expect him back for at least a few more days,” Eva explained, offering us both the thin, frizzy pieces of fabric. Leading us through the crowd, which turned to stare as we progressed through it.
“There are other townships inside this realm?”
“A couple, Aria. Though we do try to convince them to come here. Some prefer to live away from the din of the larger towns.”
“So, why isn’t my hair silver? Or my eyes blue?” Esme asked, her forehead creased with the emotion she felt at discovering her father didn’t care.
“Tirsynth’s descendants inherited black hair and violet eyes of Prometheus. You house the blood, obviously. Scylla had only two children with Tirsynth—Griffon and Hagen, who has threatened to challenge him if he vacates the throne for you, Aria. You’re to steer clear of Hagen and his sons. The same goes for Tirsynth’s bastard-born children Baldrick, Talon, and Castain. They’re minions of Hagen’s.”
“Okay,” I agreed as the sounds of blades crashing together reached my ears. It mixed with the shouts and cheers of men and women, as if they were watching a tournament. I caught glimpses of the onlookers between the gaps of the large tents we passed. Only after we had passed the last few, did my eyes widen and my lips part in surprise. “Holy shit.”