The Heirs of Death

16.2 Elayda

ELAYDA

The woman that stared back through the glimmering surface of the pond I'd stopped next to was the face of destruction and chaos. Gone was the soft face with sharp eyes that I'd been used to stare at for almost eighteen years, gone was the princess that had entered those woods an hour ago.

Instead, there was a woman that was starved until she was nothing more than a slim figure made of skin and bones.

Even under the dim light, I could see just how pale my face was, blood vessels visible beneath my skin. My hair had been cut shorter than I even thought, barely brushing my neck and not long enough to be tied. I couldn't quite tell what color it was as light danced on the fallen strands over my face; at times, it shone like fresh snow under sunlight, at others it looked like being coated with a light hue of silver.

The dimples dotting my mouth were nowhere to be seen, leaving pallid skin around lips that were colored like fresh blood.

But not even how my features were changed to give an air of slyness, nor how my limbs grew longer, truly shocked me as much as the eyes did. My eyes—my father's eyes—were not glorious and smoldering emeralds anymore, red swallowing my irises. True to Sorcha's words, my eyes were seven shades of red blood, swimming together in nonstop twirls. They reminded me so much of the ones I'd seen at the Norm the day everything crumpled, reminded me of his, of the prince's blood-lust filled eyes under the volcano. My stomach churned, the bit of food I'd eaten before leaving the castle rising in my throat. To him; I was going to the lands he'd stolen from us, to the kingdom both the queen and prince had built for themselves.

I fought the anger burning in my throat, urged myself on my feet, and turned to continue my way to the crystal throne. I'd hidden the horns and wings and claws, keeping them wrapped under my skin, ready to come out at my sheer will.

This transformation wasn't only physical, but radical and so deep it reached my magic and powers, their own essence turning dark. I couldn't reach my nature elementals as easily as before, my own will to call them shrouded with thick smoke that stopped them before surging from my fingertips. Something evil always replaced them, gifts that were more curses to my body. But we were going to their lair, and to remain safe, we had to become like them in flesh and bones and soul.

Dawn was creaking into the dark sky by the time I reached our meeting spot, daybreak's warm colors creeping through the thick trees and into the forest. The throne and the flowers scattered on the armrests and near the foot seemed to absorb that light, swallowing it before it surged through the earth and into the very heart of this place, feeding it with life. I had not noted the small horns protecting those blooms, or the ones carved in circles around the seat.

Roses and thorns, delicacy and agony, protection and destruction, just like the witch was. An angel in sight and a devil in mind. My lips curled as I ran my hands on the smooth, cool crystal, vaguely remembering seeing her seated here the first time, silver circlet atop her head.