“Are you asking me if I killed my queen? The answer isn’t pretty, princess. I killed my queen.”
The long pause between his words sent my heart thundering powerfully in my ears as it thumped against my chest. His tone was the only thing holding me in place. There was pain in how he’d admitted what he’d done.
“Tell me why you killed my grandmother,” I commanded. Anger clashed with fear, causing an odd combination of emotions to churn through my stomach.
“If you give me a chance, Aria, I’ll tell you everything.” Nodding for him to continue, he snorted before moving to a wooden table.
On it, there was some sort of wooden holder, which had been whittled into the shape of a phoenix in flight. Zyion placed a tea kettle on the smooth, wooden base. In the small cupboard beneath it, he pulled out a basket of herbs, then a small, rounded piece of glass.
“I am not a savior. Hell, I’m not even a good person, but I’ve never pretended to be one, either. You are good. I can sense the goodness that clings to your soul. You’re not a murderous bitch who kills without warranting death. You came here without the intent of taking your birthright.”
“How do you know that?” I countered, watching him as he added herbs into the small strainer, which he then put into the other rounded glass item he’d brought out.
His head lifted as a small smile played on his lips. “Because, unlike others, I can feel the intentions of others. You’re easy enough to read without me needing to use any abilities, though. Esmeralda is the same as you are. Neither of you came here with ill intent, but it doesn’t alter the others, who don’t wish to see a stranger placed upon our throne.” Zyion waved his fingers beneath the strange kettle. My forehead creased as the water began boiling in the glass of the upper chamber. “Scylla changed your mind, didn’t she?”
“In a way, yes.” Pausing, I considered how much I should disclose of what I’d discovered on my own.
“You can trust me, Aria. I am honor-bound to protect you with my life, as you witnessed in yourself earlier. Scylla chose me to be your protector. It wasn’t a choice I willingly agreed to, which is why she forced it upon me.”
“Ouch,” I whispered as the tether within me tightened. His head dropped forward, as if he was deciding how to word something. “I don’t have time for vacillation, Zyion. There’s a war unfolding outside of this realm. The people need me, so if you have something to say, say it now.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever actually be real. I was the commander of Scylla’s armies, her personal guard. I am damn good at fighting, strategic in battles, but I am not a good person.”
“Good at killing dragons as well?” I carefully studied the smirk spreading over his lips.
“Absolutely,” he rasped, which caused me to pause, considering him carefully. “I take it you mentioned me to your lover?”
“He’s more than just my lover,” I corrected sharply.
“Oh, yes. I forgot. Correct me if I’m mistaken, but he’s not your husband any longer. I heard he allowed them to annul your marriage. If it had been me, I’d have murdered the entire assembly before I allowed them to remove vows spoken before the gods.” His words caused tears to swim in my vision before I pushed them away. “That was uncalled for, Aria. I was good at killing dragons, but we were at war against them. I didn’t enjoy killing them, if that’s what King Karnavious told you. In fact, I am the reason his brothers survived for this long within this realm.”
“He thinks they’re lost to him,” I admitted, not forgiving him of the low blow he’d hit back with.
“He had good reason to believe they were. As you’ve noticed by now, we have both within our line. Dragons and phoenixes both are born to the Prometheus and Fafnir lines. When this realm was created, they weren’t our enemies. Griffon is king, but his reign depends on his brother not seeking to depose him. Hagen never forgave the dragons. His son Aldred was slain in a battle against them, and he has made it his personal mission to slaughter any dragon in the Karnavious bloodline. Your connection with them sparked the uprising that occurred today. He and your brother Vane, they nullified the power the land feeds you.” Turning to the percolating tea, he pushed the upper basin of boiling water over, which sent the boiling water into the strainer, and then the water steeped in briefly before trickling to the glass teapot.
The heady scent of earthy undertones with citrus filled the chamber. My mouth watered as I continued to study the trickle of dark water as it journeyed to the glass below.
“These herbs are from my homeland, Alfheim.”
“Scylla was from Vanaheim, though. Right?” I countered curiously.
“Correct,” he stated, smirking when I chewed my lip, waiting for more. “I was a gift to your grandmother from Freyr. The Vanir and Aesir were often gifted and captured in raids on one another. Freyr, who bound me to Scylla before she was even born, raided my village. Since I held Aesir blood, warriors trained me to fight tactical battle strategies, and once I’d mastered warfare, they then sent me to the harem of an aging elf lord who couldn’t satisfy the needs of his concubines. There, I mastered the art of…loving. After, they gave me to Frejya. She forced me to drink the flames of Muspelheim.”
“The primordial realm of heat and flame? She forced you to drink flames?” I asked in a horrified tone.
“It is the same flame her daughter housed, which I needed to be immune to in order to serve at her side, but also to protect her. They tethered my life to hers, after all.” As a slave. He didn’t need to elaborate the last part. I felt his anger of being one within me.
“Your grandmother wasn’t born a phoenix, Aria. She was born of a dragon, but never took dragon form. When the Queen of Dragons first changed, then burned through our realm, Scylla refused to retreat. I searched for her for a long time. On the sixth day, she rose from the ashes. Your grandmother was gloriously lovely in her rage, which compelled her to transform into what she became.”
“The first Rise of the Phoenix,” I said with a sad smile. “On the seventh day, she demanded those who’d perished join her rising. One by one, they rose as if born from the ashes. On the eighth day, they erected the palace. A palace which was created from the sand and ashes forged into glass, from the intensity of the dragon’s flame that consumed the lives who failed to rise.” I felt a shiver racing down my spine as he nodded, but there was agony in his eyes that told me he’d lost someone in that battle. “On the ninth day, the Kingdom of Fire rose from the same sand they’d waged war on.”
“Your love of reading anything you can get your hands on is paying off, princess.” Zyion poured a cup of tea, then added something sparkling from a jar he’d retrieved during my recital of the Rising Phoenix.
“I get the history, but I don’t understand why you killed my grandmother.”
“She forced me to make a vow to her days before it happened. I didn’t agree, which caused her to remind me of how she’d received me. I wasn’t merely a slave, Aria. I was magically bound to do as she ordered, even if that meant doing things I didn’t want to do.” My face tightened with disdain, which had him slowly exhaling. “Scylla only reminded me of my position in her life twice. Once on the night I was sent away to spy on the Karnavious dragons, then again when she bid me to do the unthinkable.”