Page 71 of Heavenly Bodies
She pressed a hand to the doors.
‘El,’ Enzo said.
She paused, turning. His face was halfway between pleading and an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. ‘Are you sure about this? What if Ariete waits beyond these doors? What if it’s all a trap?’
‘Then it’s a trap. His starlight cannot kill me. And even if anything else he does can, I’ll be damned if I leave Sofia at his mercy.’ She took in his trepidation. ‘You don’t have to come with me,’ she said. ‘You should never have been a part of this, anyway. I promise I won’t think less of you if you go.’
His laugh was empty. ‘I’ll leave you when the Deadlands freeze over.’
Elara tried not to ruminate on his words as she pressed the sapphire jewel clasped in the dragun’s claws, and the doors swung violently open.
Like the ballroom, it was exactly as she remembered. Two thrones sat at the end of the room, the floor a glossy black obsidian that reflected the throne room’s surroundings. A familiar shrouded mirror still leaned against the wall. The only differences now were the black banners that hung from either side of the thrones, with silver gloambats stitched into them.
And at the end of the room were two figures.
One was bound, kneeling, their hands tied.
Elara had already hitched her skirts and drawn her dagger. She started to run, a snarl on her lips.
Because the other figure was reclining on a throne, a black crown upon his head.
She heard flames crackle behind her, and felt a surge of relief at having Enzo at her back.
As she approached, she took in Sofia’s wide, grey gaze, the gag at her mouth, her torn ballgown.
And then Lukas’s bright black eyes, so much darker than she ever remembered, wide in delight, as the shadows on the wall around him swelled into monstrous shapes.
‘Lara. You look more ravishing than ever.’
Her childhood love was unrecognizable. The purple shadows under his eyes were sunken, the black of them bright—almost maniacal. Something wicked pulsed around him, something that her own magick shrank at.
‘Sof,’ she said, rushing to her, ready to cut her bindings. But Lukas snarled, and a shadow wrapped around her wrist. Elara yanked at it, but it remained firm.
Enzo tutted behind her. ‘I’d remove that if I were you,’ he said.
Lukas’s eyes flew to Enzo’s, his nostrils flaring. ‘And who are you?’
‘I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting.’ Enzo sauntered forwards, ignoring Elara as he extended a hand to Lukas.
‘King Lukas,’ he replied. ‘You may kiss my hand.’ He held his palm out, slightly downturned.
Enzo smiled, bending forwards, before his own hand flew out and grabbed Lukas’s wrist. In one swift move, the usurper was on the floor, with a dagger that Enzo had concealed beneath his suit jacket unsheathed and at his throat.
‘So this is the betrothed who always left you unsatisfied?’ he said to Elara in a stage whisper. She gave a tentative smile back, before focusing on Sofia once more and giving her shadow-bound wrist another tug.
‘Release her,’ Enzo commanded, his blade pressing in.
Lukas’s hate-filled stare didn’t stray from Enzo’s, but he raised a hand and the tendril of shadow released its grip, immediately drifting away from Elara.
She was instantly at Sofia’s side, embracing her. ‘It’s okay, Sof. We’re getting you out of here tonight, you—’
Enzo relaxed his dagger, and Lukas’s shadows lunged, wrapping around Enzo’s throat. Elara should have known, should have warned him.
But Enzo only gave an amused snort as a flash of light, so bright it lit the whole throne room, blasted the shadows into tatters.
Lukas paled, a truly disgusted look coming on to his face.
‘Oh, Lara. You really chose Helion scum to keep your bed warm?’ His voice dripped with revulsion, and despite her new strength, her stomach coiled.