Chapter 4

In Aethelgard, I was less than nothing.

I was a curiosity, a pet on a leash made of Elara' s guilt. The other Aethelings looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt. A powerless mortal, a relic from their queen-to-be' s strange trial.

They mocked my inability to wield their magic, my connection to the dirt and plants they floated so far above. My knowledge of healing was a child' s game to them.

"Look at him," I heard one whisper as I walked through a glowing garden. "He still feels the pull of the soil. How primitive."

Elara kept me in opulent rooms, filled with things I didn' t want. She thought comfort could erase atrocity. She was wrong.

The humiliation peaked during the grand solstice festival. It was a celebration of the Aethelings' power, a dazzling display of magic and light. Caelus was the center of it all, arrogant and magnificent. Elara was at his side, a perfect match for his cold fire.

He wanted me gone. For good.

In the middle of the feast, Caelus suddenly choked, clutching his throat. He collapsed, a dark vein appearing on his neck.

"Poison!" someone screamed.

Panic erupted. Elara rushed to his side, her face a mask of terror. Caelus, gasping, pointed a trembling finger.

Directly at me.

He had used a tracking spell, a piece of theater for the crowd. A glowing arrow of light shot from his chest and hovered above my head.

Every eye in the grand hall turned to me. The whispers stopped. There was only shock, then a rising tide of fury.

Elara looked from Caelus to me, her expression hardening into something terrible. All her lingering sentiment, all her guilt, vanished in an instant. All that was left was her devotion to him.

She rose to her feet and faced the assembly. Her voice rang out, clear and cold as ice.

"This is what they are," she declared, her gaze sweeping over me with utter contempt. "Petty, scheming mortals. They bite the hand that feeds them. They know nothing but jealousy and hate."

She didn't even ask if it was true. She didn't need to. I was the easy answer.

"I was a fool to think he could be anything more."

She pronounced my sentence herself, her voice devoid of any emotion.

"Take him to the Barrow of Whispers. Let him rot there for eternity."

A collective gasp went through the hall. The Barrow of Whispers was a place of legend, a prison from which no one, not even an Aetheling, had ever returned. It was a sentence worse than death.

Caelus' s minions, two grim-faced Aethelings, seized my arms. As they dragged me away, I looked at Elara one last time.

"After everything, Elara," I said, my voice quiet but carrying in the sudden silence. "Is this what you believe I am?"

She wouldn't meet my eyes. She just stared at the weakened form of Caelus, her hand protectively on his shoulder. That was her answer.

That was the final betrayal.