*Isla*
The portrait is ancient, much like everything else in the vault beneath the castle. Wealth beyond belief sits here, covered in dust. Mary walks with her arms behind her back as I look up at the portrait of a woman who couldn’t have been much older than me when it was painted so, so long ago. Atop her head sits a crown made of sea glass and gold, the same series of symbols as the necklace worn by the Goddess in my vision resting in the center. A moonstone dangles off a crescent moon, the light glistening on the gem perfectly captured by the artist.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper to no one but myself.
“ArediuArduouss was the first King of Maatua,” she says softly. “KiloKilo was once part of his territory. He sought refuge here and found it, but the Goddess caught up to him eventually.” She sighs heavily as she continues to look around the room, looking for something, and not finding it. “I swear it was here.”
I turn to her, arching my brow. “You have the necklace I saw in the vision.”
“It’s a family heirloom,” she says simply, sighing again in frustration. “It belonged to Aredius' grandson, King Luis. He had it crafted for his mate. Luis’s mate was the first to ever gain powers from the waterfall according to legend. Luna Eleanor was beloved by her people but fell ill. The powers within her and her people weren’t strong enough to will her back to life. She asked to die at her favorite place, and her mate granted her wish, wading into the water near the falls and holding her in his arms while she passed over the veil to rest for eternity. His people had to physically pull him out of the water afterwards. Apparently he begged and screamed for the Goddess to take him too.”
Had that been what I saw in my vision? Of the Goddess watching the man come out of the water after his mate died? Why did she rip off the necklace, then? Why had I assumed she’d be slighted by that man in some way?
“Soon, people realized that the falls had somehow acquired healing powers, able to bring people back to life.”
Mary opened a cabinet and closed it, blowing out her breath. “Luis and Eleanor had two sons. Twins. Born only a minute apart. They grew up and warred against each other for their father’s title. Adrian, the elder, won. Alatar, the younger, took over KiloKilo by force.”
I snap my head in her direction as she causally mentions that the same wizard causing all sorts of chaos is the man from this story.
“Alatar was left his mother’s diadem; it had been her wish upon her death as he was her favorite, but Adrian kept it, refusing to give it to his brother. Adrian’s line became the royal family of Maatua, and KiloKilo became… wrapped in magic, unguarded by the Goddess. Some say Adrian’s cruelty was noticed by the Goddess, and she punished him for it, turning his precious falls into what it is today. Bringing people back to life, yes, but cursing them with the same powers that Alatar’s people possessed to bring shame upon Adrian’s legacy as the years ticked by. It didn’t help that the diamond was also here.”
“So this is all just… family drama?” I gasp, shaking my head. I try to make sense of it, but my mind is reeling. “That can’t be right.”
“Alatar saw a chance to end Adrian’s line by taking Antony– My son. The king. He–summoned him… Antony is dead, and yet the storm still rages–”
“Because he wants the diadem,” I whisper to myself, closing my eyes. The Goddess had yanked it off her neck… Had that meant something else? Had the act of her severing the chain and tossing it into the water to save… to save…
“She wants us to give it back to Alatar in order to stop this madness,” I say, turning to Mary. “Where is it?”
“That’s what I’ve been looking for,” she sighs. “It is not here.”
“Who would have taken it?”
“I have no idea.”
* * *
*Maddox*
I stare at Isla, unsure of what to say. None of this makes sense, but what she’s just told us makes the most sense… I guess.
“That’s all we have to do? Give some family heirloom back to a crazed wizard?” I clarify.
“Yes,” she breathes, her shoulders slumping.
“And the heirloom is missing?” Elijah asks, glancing between us.
“Yes,” she grumbles, slouching into a chair. I look around the room for Emery, but we lost that feral child hours ago. Who knows where she is now? I don’t really care.
“Would Antony know?” Elijah asks.
“He is the king, after all. It would be his responsibility to keep track of these things,” I reply hotly, running my hands over my face. In the hours since the birth of Poppy’s healthy twins, and Isla finding out the truth from Mary, I’ve spent most of it sending out as many boats as Maatua could spare to scan the ocean for any sign of Antony during the break in the weather. Now it is storming again, and it’s the dead of night, all of us exhausted and needing food and showers.
“The Luna is awake,” a maid says from the doorway, startling all of us. I rise from my chair and reach for Isla’s hand, but she’s already gone, her hair a flash of golden silk as she disappears behind the door.
“Find Emery for me, will you?” I ask Elijah, who nods and looks peeved he has to babysit a sixteen-year-old feral demon during this trip.
I walk down to the infirmary, taking stock of the damage to the castle and going over the numbers in my head. We’d help them rebuild again, of course. I’d help the island rebuild again. That wasn’t the issue.
I have a sinking suspicion that Antony knew about all of this. I think he knew the second Isla told us about her vision that what she spoke of was a highly guarded family heirloom. I think he rushed home knowing someone wanted it, that the vision had told him shit was about to hit the fan.
I haven’t yet come to terms with the idea that Antony is actually dead. He hasn’t been seen in days. There is no word from him, and no sign of the heirloom. Had he taken it and gone to hide it, lying to his own mate, letting everyone think he’d answered the summons of the wizard and was sacrificing himself to save his kingdom?
He’d missed the birth of his children, letting Poppy go through that alone…
I bit down on the festering rage roiling through my body and put on a kind, proud smile as I entered the snug, comfortable room in the infirmary where Poppy is currently sitting up in bed, a baby snuggled in each arm.
It is quite a sight to behold, and I find myself smiling for real as I cross the room and stand at the end of the bed. Isla is draped over Poppy’s legs, gushing over the babies. Poppy looks happy, but her eyes are still lined with grief. She gives us a soft smile before her expression breaks, and her eyes fill with tears.
“He wanted me to name them Adrian and Daphne,” she cries, her entire face twisted in a sob. Isla jumps into action, taking the babies from her and handing one of them to me. I can’t tell which is which, but I gently tuck the infant in the crook of my arm and sit down on the bed as Poppy falls to pieces.
“Did you say the boy’s name is Adrian?” I ask, unease settling in my stomach. I glance at Isla, who is wearing a similar pained expression on her face. It’s probably not a good idea to name this kid Adrian, all things considered.
“It’s a family name,” she sniffles.
“Ah,” I manage, exhaling deeply. “Maybe we can wait on making anything official–”
“Did Antony ever mention a family heirloom to you that belonged to his great, great, great, grandmother?” Isla asks, cutting me off with a glare.
“N-No, I don’t think so–”
The baby in my arms starts to fuss. I gingerly hand the child back to Poppy, who slackens a bit as she settles the baby in her arms again. “Daphne,” she whispers, running her knuckle over the plump cheek of the baby girl.
“Did he say anything to you before you left about jewelry?” I ask.
“No, of course not. Our kingdom was being destroyed, Alpha Maddox!” Anger flashes behind her eyes as she clutches her daughter a little tighter. “And now he’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.”
“We don’t know that for sure–” Isla tries to say, but Poppy shakes her head, her eyes glassy with tears.
“I knew the second he left that I’d never seen him again. I don’t even know how long he’s been gone. I haven’t been out of this room since they–they–”
They’d drugged her, trying to keep her calm and safe. I find it… unacceptable.
I look over at Isla, who is looking down at the son, currently named Adrian, but they will likely be changing that, her eyes glowing with pride and happiness.
I can’t wait to see her holding our daughter in a few short months, even if the thought of her going through childbirth again has my entire body tensing with fear I’d never admit to feeling.
“I need to go through your jewelry, Poppy,” I say after a moment. Isla and Poppy both look up at me–Isla with understanding, Poppy… not so much.
“Good luck,” she breathes, trembling a bit as she sinks lower into the cushions behind her back. “My bedroom is in shambles. The storm took the ceiling right off, from what I heard.”
“That’s not an issue–”
“WHERE IS MY MATE?”
The entire room shakes with the force of a gravelly, pain filled voice that echoes through the thick walls. Poppy starts, sitting up so quickly I have to reach down and steady the infant she’s holding. Poppy’s face flushes of what little color she had in her cheeks.
“POPPY!”
I look at Isla, whispering a silent command down our bond just as the door to the room bursts open and Antony rushes into the room.
His clothes are torn and his body is… barely together. Blood is soaking through the fabric as he stumbles towards us, his eyes fixed on his mate's face.
“Antony–” I say, then fall to my knees as Antony pitches forward. I catch him before his head bounces off the tile floor. My blood rushes in my ears at the look at the sheer damage done to his body.
I barely hear Poppy’s screams or the healer and nurses who are rushing into the room. I don’t hear Isla barking commands or the sound of the babies crying. Chaos envelopes the room. Maybe I should be grateful he’s alive. Maybe I should be thanking the Goddess.
But all I feel is rage that he let things get this far.
“Where is it?” I rasp, leaning down to whisper the words into Antony's ear. “You tell me where the heirloom is before you die or so help me Goddess…”