When I awoke, I was in a clean, pristine chamber. My wounds had been treated and bandaged. Hearing someone approach, a wave
of terrifying memories washed over me, and I shrank back into the bed.
“Don’t! Stay away!”
My sister Lyra entered, carrying a bowl of medicinal broth. Her gaze was soft and full of pity. “Little sister, don’t be afraid. It’s me.”
Seeing her, my fear intensified.
She offered me the bowl. “I found you collapsed outside your palace. I couldn’t bear to leave you there, so I brought you here.”
“You seem to be covered in wounds,” she murmured. “Were your mortal lives so unpleasant? How strange. The Prince placed a
powerful ward of protection on you. How could you have sustained so many injuries?”
I stared at her, trying to parse the truth from the lies. After Aurelius forced me from the Spire, I should have been reborn a mortal.
But as my power faded, a shadowy figure had abducted me and thrown me into the Abyss. Though the figure had concealed its
aura, I had seen a flash of blue feathers.
And my sister, Lyra, her true form was that of a Blue Phoenix.
Who else in the universe could hate me so much?
She held a spoonful of the scalding broth to my lips. “Drink, little sister,” she cooed, but her eyes were cold, pressuring me.
I didn’t want it. I shook my head, shrinking away.
Suddenly, Lyra cried out. Her hand “slipped,” and the bowl shattered on the floor. She shook her head, sighing with theatrical sadne-
- ss. “Rhea, I know you resent me, but you can’t trifle with your own health. If you don’t take your medicine, how will your wounds
heal?”
The words were barely out of her mouth when Aurelius strode into the room.
He saw the red, scalded skin on Lyra’s hand and his face filled with concern. He immediately lifted her fingers to his lips.
Lyra blushed. “Your Highness, Rhea is watching.”
Aurelius paid me no mind. Only when Lyra’s hand was healed did he look up, his eyes blazing with anger at me.
“You claimed you had learned your lesson in my Citadel. I see now you haven’t learned a thing.”
Chapter 1
11.50
“Lyra tries to help you, and you throw hot broth on her. If you want to die, then get out! I will gladly grant your wish. But do not tramp-
le on Lyra’s kindness here!”
Lyra quickly interjected, “Your Highness, don’t be angry. My sister is truly, grievously injured…”
Aurelius scoffed. “My lieutenant told me everything. He gave her three light taps with the whip, and she was screaming for her life.
Three hundred lashes became three. It was a tickle. What injuries could she possibly have?!”
My eyes went wide. The lieutenant had lied? He hadn’t spared a single lash. Whose orders was he following, to slander me like
this?
Lyra tried to speak again, but Aurelius marched over and seized my wrist to check my celestial pulse. I flinched, terrified he would
discover the truth of my condition.
But a second later, he threw my hand down in disgust and wiped his own fingers with a silk handkerchief.
“Your celestial energy is abundant, your phoenix bones are strong. You are perfectly fine!”
My mouth fell open in disbelief. My very essence was damaged, my powers were gone, shattered a millennium ago at the Spire.
How could he say this?
Lyra feigned a look of dawning comprehension. “Oh, is that so? Then it seems I was the fool, deceived by Rhea once again.”
“Sister,” she said, turning to me, “why do you always torment me so?” She gave me a small, tight smile, and in it, I saw an ocean of
enmity.
It was her. It had to be. She had woven some new illusion, some fresh treachery.
