The Lost Heir

Chapter Three

Azriel didn't so much as blink until Rhysand was finished unleashing his frustration. He'd known the outburst was imminent, had been prepared for it. His own shield in place the moment the office door closed. Apparently so had Rhysand, because not one inch of his power went anywhere near Azriel. He'd made sure of it. Only when it was over did Azriel finally take a seat. He wasn't fully healed yet and decided there was no need to pretend otherwise in front of the person he trusted most, next to Cassian.

"Tell me what you know." It wasn't a command, but it wasn't a question either.

Rhysand sighed and scrubbed tiredly at his face. "It's not much. Just...more like this feeling." He looked at Azriel through the corner of his eyes, and when the Shadowsinger said nothing, he continued.

"I found this after my father died." He opened a drawer within his desk and pulled out a medium sized wooden box.

It was nothing special, but Azriel felt drawn to it immediately. "What is it?"

"I wish I knew. It was amongst his things. I didn't think much of it until now, since I was never been able to open it."

Azriel shot him an incredulous look. "And you never wondered why?" he asked.

Rhysand seemed far away again, his eyes burning into the box between his hands. "My father had a lot of secrets, some that were safer kept hidden. I figured this was just another one those. But then you told me her name, and, well..." He pushed the box toward Azriel without another word.

He almost asked what that had to do with the stupid box, when he glanced down and read the inscription.

For Velaria, my Starlight.

Azriel read the words aloud. His mind swimming with endless possible meanings.

"I'll be honest," said Rhysand. "I always assumed the name belonged to a lover. Now, I'm not so sure."

✶✶✶

Vela stood incredibly still for what felt like an eternity, though only a few seconds had passed. She knew she had to say something, but for the first time in her 596 years, she was speechless. And the worst part? Koschei had known exactly what her heart desired more than anything. That in itself made her vulnerable. She did not like that anyone, let alone a death god with nothing to lose, could hold such power over her. What would her father advise, if he were here?

She was playing a very dangerous game, one that could result in catastrophe for the losing side, and Vela needed to make sure that would not be her own. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, her mother stepped in and did so for her.

"Of course she'll help," the Witch assured. "Won't you, Velaria?"

Vela's nails dug into her palms as she plastered on her best smile, and bit her tongue. She did not trust herself to speak after the old crone had just taken the choice from her so vehemently. She would have words with her mother once the meeting was over, and it would not be pretty.

But why the sudden change of heart? Wasn't this everything she had been working toward for years?

That was before she had met him. Why should it matter? Who is he to me?

Everything, a voice answered, so quiet, she almost missed it. Nothing, another said, this time more loudly. Vela turned her head so suddenly, she was certain she'd injured herself. But there was no one around apart from the Witch and Koschei, who had moved onto an entirely new conversation. It was always like this. Once they were done with her, she was discarded off to the side like another one of their minions.