The suns rose up behind her, the wind in her face, tugging at her skirts and making her long, black hair whip behind her.

How many times had she stood upon that cliff and stared out at the harbor? How often had she watched the people mosey about on the decks, going about their usual daily business as they fished and mended nets? Watching them had always seemed more important than council meetings or lessons. Watching them was certainly far more fascinating.

Isys shifted, her eyes sliding over the deep red Pyran banners waving over her father’s ships.

He had ordered his fleet to ready itself, though for what, Isys still wasn’t sure. Rumors had spread of a powerful force in the north, reaching them the week before. She had never seen her father look so afraid. It chaffed at her, seeing the fear in his eyes as he moved about the palace, ordering his soldiers and council members about. The fear was thick in his voice, coating it like lacquer.

Why? Isys couldn’t help but wonder as she narrowed her eyes at a small group of men disembarking their small boat. Why did an unimportant sorceress hidden in the Delria Forest warrant such fear and precaution? He had even posted guards outside her chamber doors and had four of them follow her everywhere she went. It annoyed her and she didn’t need the protection. Ever since she had started her lessons with Bane, her powers had grown. She wasn’t the helpless little girl her father seemed to think she still was.

It made her feel alive to see the servants cower as she walked by. After all, how many times had she held one in a choke hold for bringing her the wrong food? How many times had they seen her flick her wrist and send a servant who had simply been in her way across the room?

The people didn’t truly know her. They still loved and adored her, bowed low with respect when she was outside the palace gates. But the servants? They knew her—and they feared her.

The people, her father’s people, still saw her as a delicate princess with flowers woven into her braided hair that needed to be doted on.

Not that she minded, of course. But she wanted to see the fear in their eyes, as well. That, she thought with a ghost of a smile on her red lips, was true power.

“Lady Isys,” a voice called to her and she sighed, her hand twitching at her side.

It would be so easy to send the speaker catapulting over the cliff and into the rocks below.

But she relaxed her hand and turned to face the intruder.

“Lord Crenly.” Isys’s face split into a genuine smile at the sight of him and she turned all the way to look at the young noble. “Have you come to welcome the morning with me?”

Lord Crenly lifted his eyebrows, green eyes glittering in amusement.

Isys looked him over, as was her habit, her eyes lingering on the hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword.

She remembered the day he had received it. It had been a gift from her father after he had quashed a rebellion in the southern region of Pyra. He had been promoted that day, raised from simple captain to general with a seat on her father’s council.

He was a little taller than she, something she relished, given that she was taller than most men in the kingdom. He was built for war and the scars on his face offered proof that he had seen more than his fair share of it.

“No, I haven’t,” Lord Crenly replied, seemingly genuinely regretful. “The king has asked to see you.”

Isys pulled a face, stepping a little closer to him. “And he sent you on this idle errand?”

Lord Crenly’s lips curved. “I offered my services.”

“Ah.” She moved towards him and did not stop until she was a few feet away. “Well, we had best not keep my father waiting.”

They walked down the narrow path towards the palace in relative silence with only a remark here and there about unimportant topics and the latest gossip floating around the palace halls.

Isys preferred Lord Crenly’s company over all others besides her friend, Liria. She wasn’t sure if it was his easy manner or the fact that he seemed to sincerely enjoy her presence that made her want to be around him. Whatever it was, she did not question it. At the least, she valued the friendship he provided in a palace full of spies and desperate nobles.

“Do you know what he wants?” Isys asked after a long stretch of silence as they entered the airy halls of Belyra Palace and made their way to the Council Room at the other end.

“The Glorious Ascension Celebration is next week,” he reminded her with a small shrug. “Perhaps he wants to discuss your protection during the parade.”

Isys scoffed. “This threat in the north,” she said with a roll of her amber eyes. “Surely my father isn’t scared? He defeated the old king and took the crown easily. No one can defeat him.”

Lord Crenly did not look so sure, which only made Isys huff a breath of annoyance as they reached the tall doors to the Council Room.

“Whoever this person is,” Isys said, “my father will destroy them.”

She stepped ahead of Lord Crenly and, hands outstretched, pushed the doors open without touching them, and breezed right in.

Everyone looked around at their entrance and Isys watched with quiet pleasure as her father’s advisers sank onto their knees while she made her way over to her father’s side.

“Isys,” her father greeted, a note of disapproval in his voice. “I am glad you could join us.”

Isys made a noise in the back of her throat and dropped down into a chair on her father’s right.

She snapped her fingers, her eyes locked on her father’s gray ones, and held out a hand expectantly.

A few seconds later, a goblet was handed to her and she took a drink of bloodberry wine, her eyes never once leaving her father’s.

“What is this about?” she finally asked, slouching slightly down in her seat as she looked about the room at the assembled men standing a little ways back from the long table, the goblet balanced precariously on the armrest beside her.

“The parade,” her father answered, clearly annoyed. “You will be carried in a heavily guarded litter through the streets during the parade. You will have guards stationed all around you for your security.”

“Oh, Father.” Isys sat forward, smirking at his appraising eyes. “Nothing is going to happen during the Celebration Parade.”

“Isys,” her father began, but she kept talking as if she hadn’t heard him.

“You are King Bacchus, ruler of Pyra, defeater of tyrannical King Syptas. No one would dare try anything during the Glorious Ascension.”

“Enough!” King Bacchus snapped and Isys fell silent. She felt the eyes of all his advisers fall on her, but she ignored them. He turned away, gesturing for one of his men to speak. “Tell her.”

Someone to her left cleared his throat and Isys turned her head to look at him.

It was Lord Bylan, one of her father’s oldest and most trusted advisers. He had always been like an uncle to her, more so since he was Liria’s father.

“There is a threat,” Lord Bylan said, looking serious, “and we are not dismissing it.”

Isys’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Alright,” she said, looking between him and her father. “And what is this threat, then? Who makes it?”

“She is called the Mother of Light,” Lord Bylan explained and, for some reason, Isys felt ice flood into her veins. She shivered, but then brushed it off.

Her eyes sought out Lord Crenly, who, she noticed, was already watching her.

She sat up suddenly, taking Lord Bylan by surprise.

“Do we know who this Mother of Light is?” she asked, getting to her feet.

Lord Bylan shook his head. “Not yet, but rumors have reached us that she has persuaded the Shri to help.”

Isys snorted derisively.

“The Shri?” Isys shook her head, laughing now. “She’s using them instead of coming for us herself?”

“We don’t know,” Lord Bylan said truthfully. “But we believe Shri assassins are going to be on their way soon.”

“Then why not counter attack?” Isys looked around the room, eyebrows raised in query. “If we know they’re coming, then why not defeat them while we have the upper hand?”

“It isn’t that simple, my lady.” Lord Bylan motioned for her to step towards the end of the table where the map of the five nations and the Shri kingdom lay. He pointed to the Rhysian Mountains. “We have soldiers posted at the Pass, but the Shri are cunning. Their kingdom lies just on the other side of these mountains and they know the mountain better than even the gods themselves. Our only choice is to blockade Sura, have archers atop the buildings in the city and at the guard towers at the city walls. But even then, we doubt that will do much. The Shri are ruthless.”

Isys was shaking her head, frustrated and confused.

“But we know they’re coming,” she said, her hand splayed over the round nation of Havendor, covering its name with her long fingers. “Why not summon a few mages and have the king and myself fight them off? I’m sure we’ll be strong enough to do so.”

“Because we believe she is the using the Shri as a diversion,” Lord Grenwith spoke up before Lord Bylan could respond and Isys turned her attention to the man. “If we’re too busy fighting the Shri, then she would be able to take the throne.”

“If the throne is what she’s after,” one of the other men grumbled, to which several others murmured their assent.

Isys looked them all over, sensing that there was more that they weren’t telling her.

“That’s not all.” Lord Crenly spoke up for the first time and Isys immediately fixed her gaze upon him.

He, she thought, would not lie to her.

“No.” King Bacchus whirled back around and the room went still. His eyes found Isys. “I cannot leave you in the palace because that is what she will expect. You will be in the parade and you will be protected.”

“Can Bane be there?” Isys asked. She would feel infinitely safer if her mentor was there to protect her.

“I will ask.” King Bacchus settled back down into his seat. “But even he may not be able to protect you.”

Isys sank back into her own chair, thoughts sprinting through her mind as she looked over every single man in the room.

They were keeping something from her. She was being protected more than usual and was promised even more protection during the Glorious Ascension Celebration. They made it sound as though this sorceress, this Mother of Light, was coming for her.

“Do we know who she is?” she asked again and did not miss the uncomfortable shuffle that passed around the room at her question.

“All we know is that she is a powerful Lightblood,” her father answered and Isys felt herself nod slowly.

Of course, she found herself thinking. A Lightblood sorceress was coming for her, the Darkblood princess.

A Lightblood, she thought numbly. “Like Mother?”

Her father stiffened at the mention of his estranged wife.

“Stronger,” he answered tersely. Then he cleared his throat. “That will be all, Isys. Lord Crenly, escort the princess back to her chambers, please.”

Feeling the embarrassing sting of her father’s dismissal, Isys finished her bloodberry wine, dropped the goblet hard onto the table, and pushed her chair noisily back before rising gracefully to her feet.

She smiled widely at her father, sweeping him one of her finest curtsies, then swept to the doors, Lord Crenly right behind her.

As the doors swung open, she turned back to the advisers and dropped them a final curtsy, saying, “Gentlemen.” And then she stepped out of the room and the doors closed behind them.

“How infuriating!” she exclaimed angrily as she stormed towards her chambers, Lord Crenly silent beside her. “And why does my father refuse to face the Shri head on? Whoever this Lightblood sorceress is, she cannot be a match for my father.” She whirled on Lord Crenly. “Why does he run from this fight?”

Lord Crenly seemed to be having an internal struggle, but finally he sighed, tugged Isys down a narrow, deserted corridor, and, voice low, said, “She is coming for you.”

Isys frowned, completely nonplussed. “For me? Why?”

Lord Crenly shrugged. “I do not know, my lady. That is all we know. Perhaps she believes she can use you.”

Her frown deepened. “I am a Darkblood. Everyone knows those two can never work together. We would tear each other to shreds before the day was over.”

“Then perhaps she believes she can turn you into a Lightblood,” he suggested half-heartedly.

Isys made a derisive noise and stepped back into the main hall.

“If that were the case,” she said as they continued on their way to her chambers, “then my mother would have never have left and taken my sister.”

“You are like your father,” Lord Crenly said. “Queen Syrene once believed she and your father could work in harmony.”

“Oh?” Isys grinned. “And how would you know? You were still a child when they married and my mother bore my sister and I.”

Lord Crenly flushed. “These are the tales I have heard since arriving in the palace.”

But Isys shook her head at his suggestion, the old, painful ache in her chest that never seemed to go away no matter how many years had passed pulsating against her ribs.

“She was foolish for believing they could.”

Silence fell between them and Isys felt herself falling deep into her memories. It hurt to remember but it was impossible to forget.

Had her mother ever loved her at all? The favoritism she had shown Irys had been obvious, but Isys had been a child, hopeful that, if she behaved well enough and loved her mother hard enough, then her mother would dote on her as well.

But she never did, choosing, instead, to scold and berate her.

Isys knew why now, but she couldn’t help but feel bitter and angry at her mother all the same.

She had only been a child. She could not help that the Dark had kissed her soul any more than Irys could help that the Light glowed brilliantly in her azure eyes.

Syrene had borne twins, but could not love them equally because the Light can do nothing but overpower the Dark and despise its shadows.

Lord Crenly left Isys at her doors, departing with a low bow before she slipped inside her chambers, ready to throw herself onto her bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

Her thoughts were still on her mother when the hidden servants’ entrance opened and Isys’s maid, Verina, walked in, a tray laden with overflowing bowl of fruits in her hands.

“My lady,” Verina said in her soft voice as she set the tray down beside the chaise that overlooked the harbor beyond.

Isys watched Verina back away from the chaise before getting to her feet and crossing to the table where a pitcher of fresh bloodberry wine sat.

As she poured herself another cup, she said, “Have some wine. Take a seat. I am in desperate need of company today and Liria is visiting her sister in Gynae.”

Verina was often the person Isys would confide in and, by that point, she should have been used to it.

Rather than wine, Verina poured herself water then followed Isys to the stone rail that looked out at the pristine skies and glittering water.

The harbor was packed as people from all over Pyra began flooding into the capital city for the Celebration. Isys never looked forward to the drunkards that crowded her city every year, but her father would rebuke her and tell her that every person was worth her time, even disgusting drunks covered in their own sick.

“Have you heard the rumors out of Delria?” Isys asked casually, her arms resting on the cool stone, her goblet held loosely in her hands.

“The Mother of Light?” Verina said and Isys nodded. “All I have heard is that she’s one of the most powerful Lightblood’s in the last three hundred years. And people are worried about what will happen, given the comet is supposed to come next summer.”

Isys scowled out at the anchored ships, their Pyran banners snapping against the wind as gulls hovered over the fishermen’s boats.

“I’d forgotten about the comet.” She drank deeply then sighed. “But those are only superstitions created by bored, idle people. Ioa’s Comet and this Lightblood sorceress are not connected, Verina. You’ve let your imagination run away with you again.”

Verina didn’t look as certain and buried in her face in her own goblet.

“The king will defeat her and everything will go back to normal,” Isys said confidently.

“I doubt he’ll want to face her,” Verina said and Isys turned a sharp eye on her.

“What do you mean?” she demanded, twisting to stand tall over the maid. “Are you implying that my father, the king, is a coward?”

“No.” Verina was calm as she looked up at Isys. “But given who this sorceress is said to be, he may just let his guards take care of her.”

Isys took a step closer, eyes burning and heart hammering.

“Who is she?” Isys wanted to know.

Verina gave Isys a sad look. “Your mother. Queen Syrene.”