My throat tightens as she steps forward, every inch of her movement deliberate, as though she’s savouring the moment. Before I can move, she leans in, brushing a kiss against my cheek, her touch cold, like frost against my skin.
She pulls back, her smile twisting with satisfaction. “Miss me, precious?”
The ground drops out from under me, my mind reeling at the impossible reality of her presence here. I can’t speak, can barely breathe, the air around us heavy, thick with disbelief.
Finally, the name falls from my lips, a whisper torn from the depths of my reeling mind, my haunted past.
“Valynia?”
FIFTY-FOUR
Eirabella
“Valynia,”Rylan murmurs again, as if he’s unsure he said it the first time.
Beside him, I’m momentarily frozen, my hand still clasped in his, but it does nothing to ground me in a moment that feels impossibly surreal. The name falls from my own lips like a wisp of smoke, “Valynia?”
At the sound of my voice, Rylan drops my hand, his fingers pulling away, leaving a hollow ache where his warmth was. I glance up at him as he takes a step back from her, from me, and runs both hands through his hair. A wave of hurt and doubt crashes over me as I catch the way he looks at her. The emotion in his eyes—shock, recognition, and something else that goes far deeper—makes my chest tighten painfully.
Around us, the hall erupts in murmurs. Alina’s hand has flown to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock; Elara’s face is white as a sheet, while Caelum stands frozen, his gaze lockedon Valynia as though he’s seen a spectre. Shocked gasps ripple through the crowd, whispers bubbling up like a rising tide as nobles and courtiers glance at one another in confusion and awe.
Valynia’s gaze lingers on Rylan, her silver eyes sparkling brighter than the stones now embedded in my skin. She is absolutely exquisite; if I weren’t standing so close to her, I would wonder if she were just an apparition. And the way she looks at him makes my heart ache. It’s filled with a longing that I know all too well.
“You grew up just like I knew you would,” she murmurs, her voice low and soft, yet it reaches us all. Her hand reaches up to skim across his face, and conflict flickers across his face before he frowns and takes another step back. “So handsome, Celestaris… so strong and skilled, and everything else I foresaw, even when you doubted yourself. I always did know you better than you knew yourself.” Her expression sharpens, the fondness shifting as she straightens, turning away from him. “But catching up will have to wait, precious. I’m here on business, after all.”
She steps toward the king, and with fluid elegance, she curtsies as she did to Rylan. Her movements are regal, each step calculated, commanding admiration. It reverberates from everyone watching. Jealousy stabs at me, hot and bitter; her every gesture speaks of an innate nobility that I can never emulate, of belonging in a way that leaves me feeling cold and alone. I glance back at Rylan, desperate for some reassurance, but his face is unreadable, his gaze fixed on her.
The king shifts on his throne, a flicker of unease shadowing his features. “Valynia, I must admit this is… unexpected. We all thought—”
“That I had died?” she finishes, sighing with mock exaggeration. “Yes, well, it was a close call, let’s put it that way. Mymother managed to get me to a healer just in time, and after an interminably long recovery, here I am.” She glances around the room, savouring the effect her presence has created. “But we can discuss my miraculous return later. I come bearing a gift, Your Majesty, for these troubled times.”
The king’s eyes narrow, his scepticism barely concealed. “A gift?”
Valynia waves her hand, and two more of her guards crash through the hall entrance, hauling forward a body between them, dragging it through the hall. The figure is covered with a hessian bag, his body slumped. They throw him to the floor, and the hall falls silent, the anticipation weighing on the air, thick, pulsating.
“I understand, Your Majesty, that you’ve been searching for Kyros Valen,” Valynia says smoothly, a smirk pulling at her lips as she turns to address the king.
Rylan tenses beside me, the shock of seeing her still radiating from him, his whole body stiffening. My own body chills, the rebellion leader’s name bringing back memories of threats, of almost-lost battles in the woods, of Doran’s limp body in my arms. Everyone leans forward, as if unwilling to miss a word. I’ll give her this—she has a way of grabbing everyone’s attention.
The king cocks an eyebrow, suspicion warring with interest. “And you’re saying this is Kyros?” His voice rings with disbelief.
Valynia inclines her head, her smile widening as she scans the crowd. “I shall let you see for yourself, Your Majesty; it is a gift for you, after all.” She turns to address the shocked faces. “But prepare yourselves. I think you’ll all find this reveal… surprising.”
The king strides forward, ripping the bag off theprisoner’s head to reveal the man underneath. And this time, I’m the one who gasps the loudest.
It’sMathis.
His entire face is bruised and bloodied, his body barely holding him upright as he struggles to catch his breath. My heart plummets, my mind reeling.
“No! It can’t be!” I whisper, the words trembling from my lips as my world turns on its head.
Rylan’s face pales as he turns to me, his voice tight, barely a breath as he also shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s not.”
Mathis looks barely conscious, his eyes almost swollen shut, but what I can see of his irises is dull with pain. A dirty white rag, stained with his blood, is stuffed in his mouth.
“Mathis!” I shout, lurching forward, reaching for him, but Caelum rushes forward, his arm shooting out to hold me back.
“No. You can’t,” he murmurs, his voice a warning as he pulls me to his side.
