The desert wind howled, pulling at the edges of Kiaran's dark cloak as he leapt through the air, carrying me close against his chest. Each bound sent us soaring above the dunes, the sandstorm beneath us thrashing like a caged beast. 6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQje59ovHR5
I buried my face against the cold metal of his armor, squeezing my eyes shut as the wind screamed in my ears.
For as long as I could remember, Kiaran had been my constant. The one thing I could lean on when the world felt like it was falling apart.
But he hadn't always been this way.
“At fifteen, they threw him into Mors Gravis,” I thought, clutching onto him tighter. “A pit where demi-gods were turned into killers for human entertainment. 6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡseSmwehkC3
Day after day, he fought to survive until there was no one left to fight. My father saw him not as a boy, but as a weapon—and bought him for his brutality.”
I often wondered if Kiaran hated me for that. For being the reason he was chained to this cursed place. But he never showed it. Even when he had every right to.
He was just 18 years old when he was forced to become a man. And yet, despite everything, he’d protected me from the moment I was born. Even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when it would’ve been easier to let me go.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of blooming flowers. I opened my eyes as the golden dunes gave way to shimmering white spires. The palace rose before us, glinting like a mirage against the endless expanse of sand.
Kiaran landed with a jarring thud, his boots sinking into the marble courtyard. I stumbled out of his grasp, my knees buckling beneath me as my head spun from the ride. He caught me before I could fall, his strong hands steadying me as he murmured, “Breathe. You’re fine.”
The sweet aroma of flowers drifted past me, carried by a soft breeze. I blinked, taking in the gardens that stretched out before us. Roses, lilies, and wildflowers of every shade blanketed the earth like a shimmering carpet. 6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP0oUckzMOH
Shallow pools of water reflected the golden light of the setting sun, their surfaces rippling as bees buzzed lazily from bloom to bloom.
I couldn’t hold back my laughter. Spinning in a circle, I let the garden's colors blur around me, my bare feet splashing in the water. It didn’t feel real. It was as if the sun itself had chosen to shine only here, casting its golden light on a paradise hidden in the heart of the desert.
“MASTER KIARAN! MAST—KIA!”
The voice cut through the serenity like a blade, high-pitched and breathless. I turned toward the sound just as a blur of green and red rushed toward us.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡneFBO4RMTq
A woman sprinted into view, her petticoat billowing behind her like a banner in the wind. Her wild strawberry-blonde hair framed a pale, flushed face, her cheeks red from exertion as she skidded to a halt in front of Kiaran.
“Oh! My poor heart, I thought I’d never catch you!” she gasped dramatically, clutching at her chest as if she were about to faint.
I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t fall out of my head.
Kiaran, for his part, greeted her with a faint, wary smile, steadying her before she could collapse. “Cecilia,” he said, his tone calm but tinged with exasperation.
She looked up at him with wide, sparkling green eyes, as though seeing the sun for the first time. “Is it true, Sir Kiaran? Are those bloody eyes of yours real?” she asked, her voice dripping with exaggerated curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, she leaned in closer, squinting at him as if she could solve the mystery herself.
I mimicked her in a low voice under my breath. “Are those bloody eyes of yours real?”
There she was. Cecilia Banks. The infamous half-witch from France, known for her flair for drama and a penchant for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
Rumor had it she was the illegitimate daughter of Henri Antonine de Saint-Clair, a French ambassador with a talent for seduction. Her mother, a witch, had been executed years ago, leaving Cecilia to scrub palace floors while her half-sister, Camille, was pampered for her beauty and grace.
Cecilia hated Camille for it, but how did I feel about her tragic tale? I didn’t trust witches. Kiaran did, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that their loyalty was always to themselves first.
“Ah, those ferocious eyes... so sexy, so dangerous. No wonder you survived Mors Gravis,” Cecilia purred, tilting her head as she fluttered her lashes at Kiaran.
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, my fists curling at my sides. “Hussy,” I muttered.
Kiaran scratched the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Cecilia... maybe not in front of the princess,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation.
Cecilia turned to me with a sigh, her expression flat. “Oh, I forgot you were babysitting the brat today,” she said, waving her hand dismissively like I was an annoying fly.
Kiaran shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable under Cecilia’s lingering gaze. He turned to me, his voice softer now, like a thread pulling me back from my rising irritation. “Princess,” he said, crouching slightly to meet my gaze. “Would you like to ride your sister’s horse, Chiku?”
My irritation melted into wide-eyed excitement. “Really?” I didn’t wait for him to answer before nodding eagerly. “Yes! Yes, please!”
“Come on, then.” He placed a steady hand on my shoulder, guiding me toward the stables that sat at the edge of the glowing garden.
The air inside the stables was warm and earthy, the scent of hay mingling with the faint sweetness of the flowers outside. Horses shifted in their stalls, their hooves clacking softly against the wooden floors. Chiku, with her braided black mane and gentle brown eyes, stood out like a jewel. She tossed her head lightly as we approached, her ears flicking forward.
Kiaran moved with quiet precision, his hand brushing along Chiku’s flank as he murmured to her. His touch was firm but soothing, and the horse calmed under his care, leaning into his hand. I watched him with wide eyes, bouncing on the balls of my feet, my excitement bubbling over.
Cecilia perched on a stack of yarn bales nearby, her green eyes sharp and unreadable. She said nothing, but her presence was heavy, her silence unsettling. Her hands rested loosely in her lap, her fingers occasionally flexing as if she were holding something back.
Kiaran took the reins, steadying Chiku as he led her out of the stall. “This was your sister’s horse,” he said, glancing at me as he adjusted the saddle. “Princess Bahari loved Chiku more than anything. She used to ride her every morning, just as the sun was rising.”
His voice was soft, almost wistful. I’d never met my sister, but in that moment, I felt like I could see her—laughing, her hair catching the morning light as she rode through the palace gardens.
“She sounds amazing,” I whispered.
Kiaran smiled faintly, lifting me onto Chiku’s back with ease. “She was,” he said simply.
A low, humorless laugh cut through the stillness, shattering the fragile warmth of the moment. Kiaran’s gaze snapped to Cecilia, his ruby-red eyes narrowing. She tilted her head, her green eyes glinting with something sharp and cruel.
“Amazing?” Cecilia echoed, her voice dripping with mockery. “That’s not her sister, Kiaran. You know that.”
My chest tightened. I gripped the saddle, my excitement from earlier fading into a knot of confusion. “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Kiaran’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. “Enough, Cecilia,” he said evenly, his hand tightening on Chiku’s reins. “Not now.”
But Cecilia ignored him. She leaned forward slightly on the bale of yarn, her lips curving into a bitter smile. “Oh, come on, Kiaran. You’re going to lie to her forever? Pretend she’s part of their perfect little family?” She laughed again, sharp and cold. “They don’t even want her.”
The words hit me like a slap. My hands tightened on the reins, my stomach twisting into knots. “That’s not true,” I said, my voice trembling. “She’s my sister.”
Cecilia’s gaze flicked to me, her smile widening. “Oh, sweetheart,” she crooned, her tone mockingly sweet. “Didn’t Kiaran tell you? Princess Bahari is the jewel of the kingdom. The perfect, pure daughter. And you…” She paused, letting her words hang in the air like poison. “You’re just the mistake.”
“Enough,” Kiaran said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He stepped closer to Cecilia, his movements deliberate and controlled, but I could see the tension radiating off him like heat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cecilia raised an eyebrow, her smile never faltering. “Don’t I? Bahari is human—pure, perfect, untouchable. Mablevi was born from an affair with a woman with God blood.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0fZmWYjzQw
They share a father, sure, but that doesn’t make them sisters. Not in their eyes. To them, Mablevi’s just a stain they can’t scrub out.”
“Mablevi is part of their family,” Kiaran said firmly, his voice low and controlled. “And she’s more than you’ll ever understand.”
Cecilia stood now, brushing stray bits of hay from her skirt. Her green eyes locked onto Kiaran’s, and the humor drained from her expression, leaving behind something cold and bitter. 6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE83oMPyxNX
“Family?” she repeated, her voice quiet but cutting. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”
Kiaran didn’t answer. His hand rested on Chiku’s reins, his knuckles white as he gripped them. I could feel the tension in him, like a string pulled too tight.
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Cecilia tilted her head, her fingers lacing together as she stepped closer. “Tell me, Kiaran,” she said softly, her voice deceptively calm, “when are you going to tell Mablevi she’s going to destroy our world someday?”
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