Chapter 171 TWO CROWNS, ONE THRONE

Chapter 171 TWO CROWNS, ONE THRONE
CHAPTER 171

TWO CROWNS, ONE THRONE

EMBER

I gripped the straps of my bag tighter and walked fast through the empty corridor. My boots made quick, sharp sounds on the stone floor. Every few steps I glanced over my shoulder.

The lamps along the walls burned low, throwing long patches of light and dark. The shadows at the edges of those patches did not stay still the way they should.

Sometimes they pulled back when I passed, like they were making space. Other times they seemed to stretch toward me, thin and restless as if they were welcoming me. It had been happening for days.

I told Rowan about it two nights ago. He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, and said it was a lack of sleep. He was right about one part—I barely slept anymore.

Since Liana died I could not stay in our old room. The empty bed on the other side made my chest tight every time I looked at it. I had moved some of my clothes and books into Rowan’s room, but I only used it to change and drop my bag.

Most nights I sat up until my eyes burned, then dozed for an hour or two before classes.

Still, with what he said I believed the moving shadows were not a hallucination. I had watched them shift with my own eyes in full light.

That was not why I was out after curfew.

Yesterday, while packing the last of Liana’s things, I found a folded piece of paper at the back of her closet shelf. The drawing on it had stopped me cold. And kept me staring at it and wondering what it meant. I'd spent the night and the better part of today cracking the meaning behind the drawing.

I needed answers, and the only person who might have them was Brienne. Mordecai had moved her from the first holding cell to a deeper part of the dungeon after she got worse.

Getting the exact location out of him had taken careful questions and a few half-truths. He warned me she was far gone now: dark magic had eaten most of what was left of her mind. He said only death would end her suffering. I still had to see her.

I did not know what I would find. "She might attack me. She might even try to open another portal.” She might try to open a portal for all I care.

Part of me said I should have brought one of the guys. The larger part of me kept walking. I needed to know what the drawing meant, and I needed to know if Liana had been mixed up in something before she died.

A dark shape dropped from the high window ahead of me. The wings of the shape were snapped open. I barely had time to throw myself sideways. The impact still caught my shoulder and sent both of us hard to the floor. My bag skidded away.

Ash-blonde hair spilled across my face. A solid, bare chest pressed against mine. And his skin was warm.

What in the world just tackled me?

What kind of creature crashes into people from windows?

The smell of open air and feathers. I shoved with both hands and scrambled back, heart slamming.

A loud laugh rolled out from the figure on the floor. I squinted through the dim light and saw the tattoos along his arms and collarbone. Recognition hit me at once.

“Ragnar!” I called, disbelief coursing through me.

He was still laughing, one wing half-folded under him, the other stretched out across the stones. I pushed myself up, brushed dirt from my clothes, and started walking again. There was no point asking how he found me. The sight had shown him where I was. Damn psychic bird.

He caught up in a few long strides. His wings folded tight against his back until they formed a loose cocoon of feathers around both of us for a second, blocking the corridor lamps. Then they opened again. He put an arm around my shoulders. The feathers brushed my arm, soft and warm.

“How are you doing, Emberlyn?” he asked, his lips curved into a smirk.

I glared at him. “Like I want to punch that smirk off your face.”

He grinned wider, teeth flashing. “What about a beautiful smile instead?”

I hissed under my breath. “Don’t do that. One day I’m going to hurt you.”

Ragnar shook his head. The motion sent a few loose feathers drifting to the floor. “I’ve seen my death. It’s not by your hand. You’re not going to injure me either.”

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. “You’re too arrogant for your own good.”

He shrugged, falling into step beside me. “Just stating facts. You should agree.”

We turned a corner. The air grew colder the deeper we went toward the lower levels. My bag felt heavier on my shoulder. Ragnar glanced at it, then at my face.

"Show me what's in the bag.” he ordered softly.

I did not ask how he knew I was carrying something important. I stopped under the next lamp, opened the bag, and pulled out the folded paper. The edges were slightly worn from how many times I had opened and closed it since yesterday. I handed it to him without a word.

Rangar unfolded it carefully. His smile disappeared. And his wings stiffened. "Where did you get this?"

I furrowed my brows in confusion, "I saw it in Liana's closet.”

He didn't say another word and I didn't bother to ask him. Having already been in this situation before, Ragnar wouldn't disclose anything to me, he didn't want me to know about it. And this was it.

We both looked down at the drawing.

It showed a massive palace. The building was drawn in heavy black lines, tall and sharp, with pointed towers and high arched windows. Intricate carvings ran along the walls—statues of figures made of fire standing next to figures made of shadow.

A wide ocean surrounded the entire structure so that the palace sat alone in the middle of dark water. A long raised runway stretched from the outer gate across the water to the main doors. Most of the lower buildings around the palace were covered in solid black paint, sealed off and hidden.

What held my attention was the terrace high on the central tower. Two girls stood side by side there, hands joined. One had red hair and wore a long silvery gown. A crown sat on her head. Fire curled around her feet and up her arms in careful strokes of orange and gold.

The other girl had coppery hair and wore a black gown. A matching crown rested on her head. Shadows twisted around her body like living smoke.

Below the terrace, rows of people knelt with their heads bowed toward the two crowned figures.

I knew the red-haired girl was meant to be me. The copper-haired one looked exactly like Liana.

Ragnar’s wings shifted once behind him. He did not speak. I stared at the paper until the lines started to blur.

It was strange. Liana’s element had been earth. She had never shown any sign of shadow magic.

Yet in the drawing the shadows belonged to her the same way the fire belonged to me. We both wore crowns. The people below were bowing to both of us, not just to me.

I had accepted that my bloodline carried royal weight. Liana had never claimed anything like that.

Why would the drawing show us ruling together?

Why were the shadows wrapped around her instead of the earth she actually controlled?

The questions piled up with no answers. The paper felt cold in the space between Ragnar’s hands and mine. Somewhere deeper in the dungeon, water dripped steadily against stone.

I kept looking at Liana’s drawn face and the crown on her head, and the same thought turned over again and again.

Just who had Liana really been?