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King Kylian is aware that I am awake. Why would he lie?
I quickly close my eyes as he removes his hand, and his voice flits through my head as he pushes my face into his neck. “Not a word.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice because I want to know what is going on. But why would he lie to keep me here?
The heavy doors fall shut, locking the room in silence.
“So . . .” King Kylian starts. “Was that for dramatic effect, or are you going to tell me what’s happening?”
King Zander must reach for his drink because I hear liquid sloshing against glass before there’s a brief silence and a soft chink against the table as he sets it down.
“I lost five miles of eastern coastline this winter,” Zander says flatly. “The cliffs collapsed into the sea. And it wasn’t from storms or the tide lashing the coastline. The stone simply . . . gave way without warning. Twenty people were buried alive.”
My heart rate picks up, and I have to focus on breathing calmly to not draw attention to myself. Twenty people died . . .
“My scholars have been measuring beaches. Fenrune is shrinking. At this rate, we have fifteen years before the lowlands are swallowed entirely, twenty before the entire island is gone . . . if we’re lucky.”
Fifteen years? In fifteen years, we could be forced to endure the Lycan King here permanently.
There’s a long pause before King Kylian answers more quietly. “A fishing village disappeared last month. The marsh swallowed it overnight. Similar to yours. No storms or earthquakes to explain it. It just vanished.”
My mind flashes back to the whispers I’ve heard throughout the markets about crops failing in Sangremere. How the ash is choking the skies in Emberfall. And endless winter devastating Aevelorn. How brutal storms have lashed the kingdoms for years. All of these awful things have been happening for years, but Purgatory was never impacted by them. At least not until the recent freeze.
“Why tell me this?” King Kylian asks.
“Because when the coastline vanishes and the islands sink, there will be war.”
Kylian sits up straighter and lets out a huff. “You want an alliance.”
“Don’t we all?” The room goes silent again. Then Kylian speaks. “If we all move our people to Purgatory what happens then?”
Zander’s chair creaks. “What do you mean? If we have alliances, it saves our kingdoms.”
“Does it though?” Kylian’s voice turns colder. “It didn’t occur to you that perhaps our lands aren’t sinking?”
A pause follows, but Kylian doesn’t give Zander a chance to answer.
“It’s our curse. Our father’s burned the Arcanum. We inherited their cursed thrones, and with them their curses. It would make sense that our kingdoms did too.”
King Zander scoffs. “Don’t preach to me like I don’t remember what they did.”
“Then you know I’m right,” King Kylian presses. “The land responds to its inhabitants. My crops rot before harvest. The rivers at Sangremere run so red and thick with iron we have to boil the drinking water to try to get rid of the taste. King Draven’s volcano never sleeps. King Kaiser’s winter is endless.”
Zander exhales slowly. “We had no part in that purge.”
“No,” King Kylian agrees quietly. “But none of us did anything to stop it.”
“There is no way to break the curse. We won’t have a choice. Eventually, we’ll be forced to share Purgatory Island. Having alliances will ensure our kingdoms survive.”
“That’s if Purgatory survives the cursed crowns. The ocean has already swallowed our kingdoms, Zander. If our current islands go under, it means the curses will follow wherever we go, and we’d be condemning Purgatory Island the moment we call it home.”
“What choice would we have?” King Zander’s hand hits the table in frustration.
He’s right. They wouldn’t have a choice, and neither would we. We would all be forced to share, and we’d all die right along with them.
“We’ll find a solution. We still have time.” Kylian’s hand soothes my back, as if it’s me he’s reassuring.
“Not much,” King Zander snaps.
