Fate of the Sun King (Artefacts of Ouranos, #3)

by Nisha J. Tuli

For every reader who delights in the delicious angst of a slow burn. (Yes, I promise I let them do it in this one. I couldn’t take it anymore either.)

Atlas: If you’ve forgotten who Atlas is… No, there’s no way you did. The Sun King. Master manipulator. Got Lor out of Nostraza to compete in the Trials for some mysterious reason that maybe you’ll find out in this book. Not blond despite everyone comparing him to a certain High Lord of Spring (IYKYK). Gabriel: You know him, you love him, and

Serce: Lor’s grandmother and the former Heart Queen who broke the world. Got a little too big for her britches. She’s ding-dong dead.

Cloris Payne: High Priestess of Zerra who was helping Serce and Wolf until she lost her mind thanks to the arcturite cuffs she was forced to wear. Look, I think you get it. Dead.

I stride to his side and crouch on my haunches, putting me at eye level with the royal Fae, who was once a king. Who, by all rights, is still a king, but there are only eleven people left in the world who know that—ten of whom are magically bound to silence.

Tyr blinks, and I like to think it’s because he’s acknowledging me. I hope it is. I miss him and everything we almost were.

He tilts his head with an imploring expression, and I watch in fascination, always amazed at how Atlas can talk anyone into doing anything for him, often to their personal detriment. Including his own brother. Including me. When Lor lost her shit on him in the throne room after the fourth Trial, it was so satisfying to watch. I wanted to stand up and cheer. Finally, someone saw through his charm, even if it took her a little while to get there. It makes me even more suspicious about who or what she is.

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just… You scared me.” He tips his head. “So you made clear.” Another moment passes between us. I can keep trying to pretend I don’t care, but my cover has just been blown wide open. “It worked, though,” he says with a cocky tilt of his mouth. “Told you I’m always right.” Zerra, there will be no living with him after this.

ZERRA THE SUN QUEEN APHELION: THE FIRST AGE OF OURANOS

Fine, two of us can play this game, and I have never ever backed down from a challenge. “Can I have this?” I ask, and she nods. “Of course. Enjoy.” Then she gives me an airy wave and saunters off. I drape the scarf over my shoulders and search for a target. Someone devastatingly hot and sexy and really fucking tall. With good hair and a nice firm ass.

Nadir comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my shoulder. “I was hoping we could stay in this room, just the two of us, until the end of time,” he says, reading the note. “But I suppose we have shit to get accomplished.” I look over my shoulder and arch an eyebrow. “And here I thought vengeance was the foundation of your personality and not just a side hobby you’d abandon at the first opportunity for a roll in the sheets.”

“Hello!” I call again. Heart Queen, the Staff replies. You’ve finally come to see me and brought the Primary, I see. “You know about me too?” Indeed. So close and yet so far for all those years. When I felt you leave the borders of The Woodlands, I thought you had been lost. But I felt him across the miles and hoped you would return someday. “I’m here,” I say. “Can you help me?”

“Can I ask?” I say to Cedar. “Who is the Woodlands Primary?” He presses his mouth together. “Unfortunately, the Staff hasn’t seen fit to share that with me.”

Cedar tips his head. “Why do you ask?” I shake mine in response. “Just curious. Until a few weeks ago, I’d never heard of one, and now that I am one…” I trail off. None of it is a lie, but it isn’t the complete truth. “Of course,” Cedar says. “That’s only natural.” “Thank you again.” I turn to leave with the others as Tristan catches my eyes. He’s got a perplexed look on his face, and he’s rubbing his chest. He feels the Staff. Just like I felt the Crown in Heart.

The ark of Heart. It had been her goal when she’d tried to steal the girl and once again found herself rescued from death by the divine hand of Zerra’s mercy.

Does Lor have the Artefact of Heart? The Crown was lost as far as I’m aware, but I’m assuming Lor and Nadir haven’t been entirely truthful with me.

“But the magic continues to grow, and the Fae do not possess the strength to contain it any longer. The plagues and the illnesses besieging your homes are a result of this burgeoning power. It must now be harnessed, controlled, and channeled,” the Empyrium said. “And so we’ve brought you here.”

I was destined for the warder corps, and Erevan was sent to study in Alluvion to learn history and politics with the hopes of leading Aphelion’s council someday.

He dropped out of school and returned to Aphelion, where he renounced any claim he had to the royal line and moved to The Umbra. We lost touch for many years, until he resurfaced with a list of demands on behalf of the low fae.

“Your brother and sister let it slip that it’s your birthday tomorrow. Something you failed to mention to me.” He arches a brow, and I laugh.

Today, he would test the theory he’d been working on for years. Around his finger he swirled a ring made of the same glittering black stone his workers had mined from the mountain. The same enchanted material recovered after the collapse.

On one of his visits to the Evanescence, he’d channeled a thread of magic through his ring, and shortly after, Zerra had complained of a headache. She’d then taken to her bed for the rest of his visit.

My magic slides against a dense knot of tissue and blood, then… I feel his heart stop. … Silence, horrible unbearable infinite silence, shatters in my ears. The ribbon falls away, and I imagine it, suspended in the slow death of time, twirling to the floor, limp and lifeless as it collapses into a weightless curl. My ribcage cracks, my heart imploding and leaking out on a crimson flood of all my mistakes. I collapse on top of Nadir, pressing my cheek to his chest, my hands fisting in his shirt, as the forest echoes with the agony of my broken, never-ending scream.