Women in the small kingdom of Aeriana are disappearing.
Iris Daniels, a budding painter in the East Territory, is trying to keep her head down. In a kingdom filled with abilities, music, and Destined love, Iris is determined to build a career out of...
WARNING: This chapter may have slight triggers. Please take care as you read.
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"Today, the University of Redlian released a study which confirmed Aces who find their Destined develop abilities. With only a narrow pool of subjects, U of R could not determine a connection between the abilities received, however, the study confirms that 100% of Aces who meet their Destined will develop an ability..."
— STR News, Recording found in storage at STR Newsroom, Redlian
Iris laughed in Wylan's face. "You're out of your mind." Then, because that didn't feel like enough, she said. "Princess Driana died years ago. And you've been on a hunt this whole time looking for her?"
Wylan bared his teeth at her. At her!
"Hey, hey, hey, okay," Thad got in between them. "Let's take it down a notch, alright? How about some deep breaths? We'll take a break and come back to this—"
"We don't have time," Wylan told Thad. "We need to get her on a plane now."
Iris held her hands up, palms forward. "I am not getting on a plane with you. I'm not going anywhere with you." Her own anger ripped the words from her throat. She would not stand here and be yelled at by a stranger. "Don't you think if I was Princess Driana, I'd remember something?" She pulled her painting off the plastic table and held it carefully by the edges, upright, so the wet sections wouldn't mesh. "I'm sorry, but I'm not her. The sooner you realize it, the sooner you can quit this fool's mission and go back to whatever it is you consider normal."
She left the two of them downstairs and went back to the master bedroom to collect her things.
~
Wylan fucked up.
He knew it the moment Iris walked away. A quick replay of the conversation in his head had him flinching. What the hell was the matter with him?
Thad shook his head at him, but said nothing.
How could she possibly not know who she was? And how could she possibly paint all those scenes, those pieces of her past without knowing?
"It's her," he told Thad.
"It is," Thad said. "After that painting?" He pointed at the table in front of them. "There's no way."
Wylan ran a hand over his face. He'd always been quick to anger, and quick to settle. As his anger drained out of him, he was still pissed, but now it was at himself.
Stars, he wanted to stay mad at her. He ran a hand over his face. "This woman was part of the reason my mother died. And she can't even fucking remember."
