Love Between Two Worlds - Chapter 17

 

Chapter 17 — The First King

The crown rose higher, slowly, almost gently. Gold light spilled out from beneath it, illuminating the darkness without ever quite pushing it back — if anything, the shadows gathered closer to it, bending toward something older than themselves.

Amelia couldn't breathe. Every creature in the chamber stayed on its knees. Adrian stood beside her, blade still burning in his hand, but even he had stopped looking at them.

He was looking at the crown.

"That's impossible," Caelan whispered again.

"You've said that twice now," Amelia said.

He didn't answer.

"What is the First King?"

Caelan's gold eyes stayed fixed on the dark. "The beginning."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one that matters."

The first Hart stepped forward. "Caelan."

He finally looked at her.

"You knew he was coming."

"No."

"You knew he was still alive."

His jaw tightened. "I knew it was possible."

"How?"

"Because the Crown was never built to keep the First King out."

A chill ran through Amelia. "It was built to keep him in."

The darkness split wider, and something stepped through it. At first she saw only a shape. Then the light reached him — a man, tall, broad-shouldered, armor forged from gold and black metal fused together. His hair was dark, streaked through with silver, his face carrying the same unnatural stillness she'd seen in Caelan.

But his eyes were silver. The same silver as Adrian's.

The man's gaze moved across the chamber — the first Hart, Caelan, then Adrian — and something shifted in his expression. Not surprise. Recognition.

"Guardian."

Adrian's blade rose. "I've never seen you before."

"Not with those eyes." The man stepped closer. "You have my blood."

The words hit the chamber like a physical blow. Amelia looked at Adrian, who had gone rigid.

"No," he said.

"Still denying what you are?"

"I don't know you."

"You don't need to." His gaze slid to Amelia. "She does."

"Why?" Amelia's pulse jumped.

His expression softened, almost gently. "Because she carries what was taken from me."

The first Hart stepped between them. "Enough."

For the first time, anger crossed the king's face. "You."

The ancient woman didn't move.

"You should have died."

"I tried."

"You failed."

"I did."

Something old and heavier than hatred passed between them. Amelia looked from one to the other. "You know each other."

Neither answered.

"Tell me."

The first Hart closed her eyes. It was the First King who spoke. "She betrayed me."

The chamber went utterly silent.

"Is that true?" Amelia asked her.

The woman opened her eyes. "Yes."

The king laughed, low and without humor. "Finally."

"What did she do?" Amelia pressed.

The first Hart's voice barely carried. "I killed him."

Adrian turned sharply. "What?"

"I killed the First King."

"Or so she believed," the king said, smiling.

Amelia's stomach dropped. "You can't kill him."

"No," the first Hart admitted. "Not completely."

The Crown overhead pulsed. The First King lifted a hand, and every creature in the chamber bowed lower still.

"They built the Veil to imprison me," he said. "They used the Hart blood. The Guardian blood. The Crown itself."

"And it worked," Amelia said.

"For a time."

"Then why are you here now?"

His eyes found hers. "Because you opened the door."

Her heart stopped. "I didn't."

"You did."

"I was trying to save both worlds."

"And you succeeded." He smiled at her confusion. "The Veil is no longer dying."

Amelia looked up. The cracks in the darkness were gone. The stars beneath the glass burned brighter than before. The Veil was healing.

She should have felt relief. Instead something cold settled low in her chest.

"If it's healed," she whispered, "why are you here?"

"Because the Veil was never meant to be healed."

Adrian stepped forward. "Then what was it meant to do?"

"Contain me."

Silence dropped over the chamber like a stone.

"So all of this—" Amelia started.

"Was a prison." The First King looked slowly around the room. "The worlds. The Crown. The Guardians. The Harts. Every generation that believed it was protecting something sacred." His eyes settled back on her. "They were protecting themselves from me."

Caelan moved suddenly — stepping forward and dropping to one knee.

"My King."

The First King looked down at him. "You survived."

"I waited."

"I know."

Amelia stared. "You served him?"

Caelan didn't look at her. "I served the crown."

"The Crown?"

"No." The king's smile widened. "I am the crown."

The ring on Amelia's finger burned. She looked down — the fractured silver band was glowing again, but this time the light wasn't gold.

It was black.

Adrian noticed. "Amelia."

"I know."

The ring pulsed once, twice. Then a voice came — not from the Crown above them, but from somewhere inside her own skull.

Come to me.

She staggered. Adrian caught her arm.

"Don't listen."

"It's inside my head."

"I know."

The First King watched them both. "She hears me."

"Get out of her head," Adrian said.

The king's smile vanished. "Careful, Guardian."

Silver light tore through Adrian's body, and he dropped to one knee. Amelia caught him.

"Adrian!"

His breathing turned ragged. The First King raised one hand. "Your blood still remembers its master."

Adrian's eyes flashed white.

Amelia turned on the king. "Stop."

The silver light cut out. Adrian collapsed against her, and she stared at the First King, fury finally burning brighter than her fear.

"You touch him again, and I'll—"

"And you'll do what?" The question came quiet, almost curious.

Amelia lifted her hand. The Crown answered — a wave of white light tore across the chamber. The First King didn't move, but for one second his expression cracked.

Fear.

Only for a heartbeat. But Amelia saw it. So did the first Hart.

"Amelia," she whispered.

"What?"

"Don't."

"Why?"

"Because you don't understand what you're holding."

Amelia looked at the Crown, then at the king, then at Adrian, still struggling to catch his breath beside her.

"I understand enough."

She stepped forward. The First King watched her carefully.

"You want me."

"Yes."

"You want the Crown."

"Yes."

"You want Adrian."

The question stopped her cold. She didn't answer.

He smiled. "That's the part that will destroy you."

Adrian forced himself upright. "Don't listen to him."

The king looked at him. "You've always been weak where love is concerned."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know exactly what you are." He stepped closer. "You are the first Guardian. You are my blood." His gaze shifted to Amelia. "And you," he said, pointing to the first Hart, "are hers. The final Hart."

"I already knew that," Amelia said.

"No." His gaze sharpened. "You are not the final Hart."

The first Hart's face drained of color.

"You are the first."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath Amelia's feet. "What?"

"The first Hart never died."

Amelia turned to the ancient woman. "You."

She didn't deny it.

"The woman standing in front of you is not your ancestor," the First King said. "She is your grandmother's mother."

Silence swallowed the chamber whole. Thirty-two years suddenly felt like nothing at all. The first Hart had been there the entire time — watching, waiting, guiding every generation that came after her.

"You knew Eleanor," Amelia said, disbelief cracking through her voice.

"Yes."

"You knew everything she was trying to protect me from."

"Yes."

"And you let her die."

Pain moved across the woman's face. "I tried to stop it."

"But you failed."

"Yes."

Amelia stepped back, every secret in the room suddenly feeling like one more betrayal stacked on the last.

"Now you understand," the First King said.

"No." She shook her head slowly. "I understand that everyone has lied to me."

Her eyes found Adrian's. Even he looked away.

"Everyone."

Then the Crown spoke.

Queen.

Amelia looked up. The vast structure of light above them began to descend, slow and deliberate, straight toward her. The First King stepped back. Caelan rose. The first Hart murmured something too quiet to hear.

Adrian reached for Amelia's hand. This time, she took it.

The Crown stopped inches above her head, and light closed in around her — and then another voice entered the chamber. Not the First King. Not the Crown. Not Eleanor.

A voice she'd never heard before. A man's voice, young, terrified, and somehow unbearably familiar.

"Amelia, if you can hear this, I'm already dead."

She froze.

"What?" Adrian said.

"Do not let the First King take the Crown."

Amelia's blood turned to ice, because the voice sounded exactly like Adrian's.

Only older. Much older.

And beneath the Crown, the First King smiled.

"Too late."

The chamber exploded with light.