Page 96 of The Last Guardian

Observing the hard features of his beautiful face, my thoughts turned to the names Kraktos had given us.

“Why did Kraktos call you Lost Heir?” I asked, meeting his gaze with a fierce intensity that made me feel weak. “Who are you in Keraneeth, exactly?”

The moment the words escaped my lips, Zaidkiel stilled. Not a single muscle bulged from him. The fire danced on the walls—breaking the contrast of the cold light from the moon.

He didn’t utter a word. The flames danced in his irises as he stared at the hearth as if he could see something in the embers, his eyes awakened by the warm light, as if the darkness itself evaporated from him.

Zaidkiel wasn’t entirely in darkness, yet he burned with it, devastating, heartbreaking, achingly beautiful. A void bathed in fire.

His jaw clenched slightly; his eyes lost in a past that haunted him. A past forged in the fire of his own soul. And I saw it. The same suffering in his gaze that I had seen in Nefeli when she drowned herself in her memories.

Zaidkiel took a deep breath and said softly, his voice, low and unwavering, piercing the pounding in my heart, “I am the Lost Heir of Evadrith.”

I WENT STILL. The echo of his voice hung in the air.

With a slow movement, he turned his face to look at me as his shoulders tensed. “My mother was queen of Evadrith,” Zaidkiel clarified, his hand tightened around his glass, “long before the rise of the Evarim Empire.”

Thunder boomed, shaking the walls as lightning split the sky. A flash of white illuminated the walls. Even the brightness couldn’t reach the shadows crossing Zaidkiel’s face.

With a frown, I observed the man in front of me, his features hardened. I asked softly, “How—what happened?”

Zaidkiel’s lips curled into a sneer, his voice sharp as a knife. “My father happened.”

Zaidkiel gulped his drink in a swift motion and poured more wine into his glass. The air thickened between us, and I was almost sure he was going to dismiss the conversation entirely. Yet he didn’t.

A hard swallow travelled his throat; his eyes dropped to his glass, his voice piercing the silence. “When my mother inherited the throne, Evadrith, Nythra and Shavaar were still separate crowns. She maintained fair relations with the other kingdoms, with a strong alliance.” Zaidkiel’s eyes burned with wrath when they met mine as he said, “Until she met my father.”

“Why?” I asked, my voice breaking into a whisper. “How did they meet?”

“A war camp burned at the border of Evadrith and Shavaar,” Zaidkiel explained with a long sigh. “My mother traveled there with her advisors to aid her allies and discover who had launched the attack. One of the King of Shavaar’s advisors was already there—Nirneshei, my father.” Zaidkiel paused. His eyes sharpened when he added, “It was love at first sight.”

“But your father was Surani and your mother was Evarim…” I continued, recalling what Nefeli had explained to me weeks ago. “It was a forbidden match.”

A loud breath escaped his lips. “Forbidden or not, it didn’t stop them from eloping or from bearing children.”

“Why is it forbidden exactly?” I asked.

My knife scratched against the plate as I cut another slice of stew and took another bite.

“To keep the purity of their blood linked to the moon and sun,” Zaidkiel explained. “But also, it would be impossible to know what kind of power the children would wield if other species bred with them. And that scared the Oralys.” He arched a brow, his eyes twinkling. “They tend not to appreciate what they cannot control,” He said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

Zaidkiel was part of this statement. He was everything the Oralys could not control—untamable, uncontainable.

“Why would the Oralys decide for the monarchs?”

A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “They are the favored of the gods. The populace worships them, obeys them.” His voice darkened. “The Oralys turned that faith into power. Power is control.”

“You sound like you don’t trust them.”

His eyes hardened. “I don’t.”

The intensity of his stare made me squirm, his gaze burning brighter than any fire.

I averted my gaze to my plate and asked, “What happened when they learned about your parents?”

“They forbade them to procreate,” Zaidkiel said. “But my mother was already with child—with my older brother, Brazen.”

Older brother? My eyes widened in surprise as I looked up at him. My lips parted, ready to talk, but Zaidkiel continued his tale.