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The revelation of the Peg’asi name hangs over her like a dark storm cloud, a curse - a burden far too heavy for her to carry.
Nova remembers when all her problems seemed infinitely smaller. When all that plagued her was being forgotten, being silenced. Feeling like she didn’t matter, and in order to survive it, convincing herself that she didn’t. All of those things feel like petty grievances now, nothing compared to the suffering she’d heard about or the pain she’d been sheltered from behind palace walls. It was no shining existence worthy of merit, but at least she was fed. At least she was cared for. There were so many out there who could not say the same, and guilt eats its way through her stomach, rising in her throat like poisonous bile.
She doesn’t know what she’d be willing to trade as long as she could reverse the past forty years of her father’s reign, wiping away every wrong ever done to all of Seleota. Nova’s certain that giving her life in the process would never be enough, not for all the ones that were already ruined. She thinks of Bash’s splintered arm, and the knife he took to his eye. Aya’s baby brother. Ryona’s fallen Archangels. Cal’s wrongful exile, and the brutal conditions of Damon’s childhood in Cursa.
And June - sweet, gentle June - his parents and his brother, gone.
Nova’s heart feels like it’s about to cave in on itself, and her hand flies to her chest, the material of her blouse caught in her clenched fist. She recalls their last conversation: the anger she’d seen in his eyes, the hurt. The years of suffering he went through that she could never undo. She’d wanted nothing more than to hold him close to her, to cry, to tell him how sorry she was. To beg him for his forgiveness.
But she couldn’t. After all, she didn’t deserve to.
So Nova welcomed the coldness. The chill of him not being by her side, of him not looking her in the eye. It didn’t matter how much it hurt. It would never compare to what he had already lost.
She thinks of her father, of the monster behind the horror stories, but cannot remember much to begin with. He was always too far from her, too untouchable, just another imposing portrait lining the hallways of the palace. The only memory she has of him, the only moment between them that she truly possesses enough to call her own, had happened when she was around fourteen summers old.
Nova had been curious. Restless. Seeking a little adrenaline. And she’d heard that her father would be in the gardens holding discussions with an ambassador from Arcnos. She’d never seen one of their kind before, only hearing of them from tales her tutor had spun for her, their reptilian eyes and forked tongues simply features left to her imagination. So she’d slipped through the secret passageways, crudely drawn map in hand as she felt her way through the dark, stumbling out of a neglected alcove in the royal greenhouse. She’d heard her father’s brusque tone and a voice like grating sand, and had snuck her way through giant monstera leaves and swaying willow trees, wanting to get a closer look.
But then she’d tripped over the hem of her skirts and a stray stone, and fallen flat on her face in front of her father, the Arcnos ambassador, and the king’s personal guard.
She remembers it hurting, remembers the fall sending painful, shocking tremors through her skull. She’d bitten the insides of her cheeks in the fall, and her teeth had punched through her bottom lip, flooding her mouth with blood. She remembers the tears that came, no matter how much she had willed them away.
But above all, Nova remembers the disgusted look her father had given her, his lip curled in distaste and his brow furrowed - like she was no daughter of his, no princess.
Like she was no one to him.
He had ordered her to be brought away. Punished. And for her little escapade she’d earned thirty lashings across the backs of her thighs and calves, the skin above the brutal red welts welling with droplets of blood. For a week after that, even sitting brought tears to her eyes.
Queen Lucrezia hadn’t been bothered - she wouldn’t be caught dead skipping out on another lavish party just to pay the weak runt of the litter a visit - but Nerissa had come by. Brought her ointment for her wounds, wiped her tears, and patted her back through the hiccuping sobs.
I told him he should’ve given you a different punishment, Nerissa had said grimly, her sighs deep and resigned. He waved me off, and threatened to give me it tenfold if I wouldn’t shut up.
After that, Nova had often wondered more than once whether being cruel was the only currency her family could recognise. If she became cruel - more cruel than her frivolous brothers and sisters, more cruel than her father himself - would she only be someone worthy of being acknowledged then, even if it was such a far cry from the person she really was? Was fear the only way they knew how to reap respect, to elicit pale imitations of love?
She had almost given into it, that eternally starless night, that hopeless void of becoming her worst nightmare - that is, until Lieutenant Vexx Serif had come into her life one cool autumn afternoon, bringing into it the warmth of evening sunlight and the airy lightness of a spring breeze. He had challenged her, teased her, and oftentimes good-naturedly annoyed her; but he’d also made her feel like a person again, made her feel more at home in her skin. He’d become a friend and a confidant, her shelter from the intrigues and politics of the royal court, and a safe haven where she could feel free to just… be.
But even that was a lie, wasn’t it? An unforgiving voice in her mind whispers, and once again she relives the last time they spoke in that alley on Teranium, recalling the painful sting of betrayal she’d felt when he’d turned her world upside-down, revealing every intricate falsehood that made up the essence of his deception.
Nova’s sure she could’ve loved him, once. But even that is lost now to better days, to a time that no longer exists.
She thinks of his admission, of the information he’d given to Zovack. Crucial details that she found herself unwittingly responsible for. She imagines Nerissa - beautiful and strong and compassionate, every inch a deserving queen - her body on the ballroom floor, broken and bloodied in all her regal finery. No longer her sister, but an empty-eyed shell without a soul, stolen from her side forever.
I might kill him, the thought comes, devastatingly merciless. Quicker than lightning, and more silent than wind. I’ll have his head myself if it’s the last thing I do.
Vexx had said he hoped to never see her again. For his sake, she hoped he was right.
Everything coalesces in her mind, a storm of thoughts that threaten to shatter the very ground beneath her. There’s an ache in her chest where her heart should be, a deep, gaping wound - one that threatens to never heal.
But there was nothing to be done about it now.
Nerissa was gone, their father and the rest of their family dead. Her old friend unveiled as a liar, a traitor. And with a manic usurper on the throne, the twisted legacy of the Peg’asi name was hers and hers alone to bear.
She feels a defiant fire spark inside of her, pushing everything else to the back of her mind. If she had no choice but to carry the weight of her name and her crown, then she would have to make sure she was deserving of it.
She would have to make things right.