The Shards of Ophelia (The Curse of Ophelia Book 2), page 1
THE
SHARDS
OF
OPHELIA
NICOLE PLATANIA
Copyright © 2023 by Nicole Platania
Stars Inked Press, Inc.
6320 Topanga Cyn Blvd. Ste. 1630 *1033
Woodland Hills, CA 91367
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: nicoleplataniabooks@gmail.com.
First paperback edition August 2023
© Cover design: FranziskaStern - www.coverdungeon.com - Instagram: @coverdungeonrabbit
Edited by Kelley Frodel
Proofread by Megan Sanders
Interior design by Lorna Reid
Map design by Abigail Hair
ISBN 979-8-9862704-2-5 (paperback)
ISBN 979-8-9862704-3-2 (ebook)
www.nicoleplatania.com
Table of Contents
Praise for THE SHARDS OF OPHELIA
Author’s Note
Pronunciation Guide
-PART ONE-
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
-PART TWO-
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
-PART THREE-
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Epilogue
Coming Spring 2024
Cast of Characters
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Praise for THE SHARDS OF OPHELIA
“A stunning addition to the TCOO series! TSOO will leave readers thoroughly satisfied and craving more from these characters. Nicole’s writing is immersive, romantic, exciting, and healing. The plot twists had me on the edge of my seat and my eyes glued to every word. I absolutely adored this novel and can’t wait to devour all that follow!”
-Olivia Rose Darling, author of the Fear the Flames series
“Nicole takes Ophelia and her family to the next level. SHARDS is all about everything that bookstagram and tiktok love in new adult romantasy. The next stage of Ophelia’s journey is heartbreaking as it is both romantically exciting. Tolek fans will be screaming all the way from the Mystique territory.”
-L.B. Divine, author of The Prince of Snow series
"The Shards of Ophelia is a breathtaking follow up to The Curse of Ophelia. While the fantastical world is still the core, Nicole has weaved painful character growth, melancholy realizations, and lessons worth learning throughout every character's story. You will cheer for your favorites and you will cry with them as they navigate the paths their lives have taken and the expanding world around them. This is a must read series and it is only the beginning."
-K. Jamila, author of Mine Would Be You and Golden Hour of You and Me
"Nicole Platania has crafted an exquisite sequel to the The Curse of Ophelia series - one filled with intrigue, action, and passion. She explores the complexities of the heart and mind while providing eloquent storytelling, unforgettable characters, and a unique world of magic and power. A gripping, heartrending read that will have fantasy romance readers clamoring for more."
-Jessica Ayala, author of Of Fangs and Shadows
To anyone who has ever needed permission
to choose yourself: here it is.
Author’s Note
This book contains depictions of violence, PTSD, blood/gore, discussed death of a child, death of loved ones, drug/alcohol dependency, and some sexual content.
If any of these may be harmful to you, please read carefully.
Pronunciation Guide
Characters and Creatures
Aimee: Ay-me
Aird: Air-d
Akalain Blastwood: Ah-kuh-lane Blast-wood
Alvaron: Al-vuh-ron
Annellius Alabath: Uh-nell-ee-us Al-uh-bath
Astania: Uh-ston-ya
Bacaran Alabath: Bah-kuh-ron Al-uh-bath
Barrett: Bair-it
Brigiet: Bri-jeet
Calista: Kuh-liss-tuh
Collins: Call-ins
Cypherion Kastroff: Sci-fear-ee-on Cast-Rahf
Danya: Dawn-yuh
Dax: Dax
Divina Delantin: De-vee-nuh Dell-in-tin
Elektra: Ill-ectra
Erini: Ih-ree-nee
Erista: Eh-ris-tuh
Esmond: Ez-min-d
Ezalia: Eh-zale-ee-uh
Gerad: Jer-ahd
Glawandin: Gluh-wahn-din
Hectatios: Hehk-tay-shus
Hylia: Hi-lee-uh
Jezebel Alabath: Jez-uh-bell Al-uh-bath
Kakias: Kuh-kye-yus
Lancaster: Lan-kaster
Larcen: Lare-sen
Lessel: Less-il
Lucidius Blastwood: Loo-sid-ee-yus Blast-wood
Lyria: Leer-ee-uh
Malakai Augustus Blastwood: Mal-uh-kye Uh-gus-tus Blast-wood
Marxian: Mark-shen
Meridat: Mare-ih-daat
Mila: Mee-lah
Missyneth: Mis-sin-ith
Mora: Mor-uh
Ophelia Tavania Alabath: Oh-feel-eeya Tuh-vahn-yuh Al-uh-bath
Santorina Cordelian: San-tor-ee-nuh Kor-dee-lee-in
Sapphire: Sah-fire
Tavania Alabath: Tuh-vahn-yuh Al-uh-bath
Titus: Tie-tuhs
Tolek Vincienzo: Tole-ick Vin-chin-zoh
Vale: Vale
Victious: Vik-shuss
Places
Ambrisk: Am-brisk
Banix: Ban-ix
Caprecion: Kuh-pree-shun
Damenal: Dom-in-all
Gallantia: Guh-lawn-shuh
Gaveral: Gav-er-all
Palerman: Powl-er-min
Pthole: Tholl
Thorentil: Thor-in-till
Turren: Tur-in
Valyn: Val-in
Vercuella: Vair-kwella
Xenovia: Zin-oh-vee-yuh
Angels of the Gallantian Warriors
Bant, Prime Engrossian Warrior: Bant
Damien, Prime Mystique Warrior: Day-mee-in
Gaveny, Prime Seawatcher: Gav-in-ee
Ptholenix, Prime Bodymelder: Tholl-en-icks
Thorn, Prime Mindshaper: Thorn
Valyrie, Prime Starsearcher: Val-er-ee
Xenique, Prime Soulguider: Zen-eek
Gods of Ambrisk’s Pantheon
Aoiflyn, The Fae Goddess: Eef-lyn
Artale, The Goddess of Death: Are-tall
Gerenth, The God of Nature: Gair-inth
Lynxenon, The God of Mythical Beasts: Leen-zih-non
Moirenna, The Goddess of Fate & Celestial Movements: Moy-ren-uh
Thallia, The Witch Goddess of Sorcia: Thall-ee-uh
-PART ONE-
CLOTHO
Chapter One
Ophelia
There was something to be said for standing up when, internally, you were shattered. When your flesh was a case for broken bones and your heart beat tainted blood, but you slipped a mask over your features and became what was expected of you. Only the strongest survived the wounds dug into their souls.
Walking into the Rapture Chamber, I’d imagined what I would face from the five chancellors of the minor clans. They would see me as too young, too brash for the role of Revered—the warrior who, as the leader of the Mystiques, singularly held the most power on the continent.
So, I’d entered with the confidence I
Twelve hours later, facing down a different battle entirely, my resolve was buckling. I squeezed my sister’s and Malakai’s hands on either side of me, seeking their strength.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
My cheeks flushed where Malakai’s stare burned into them, but it was nothing lustful. It was the third time he’d asked me, and I’d denied him for as many.
Instead of meeting his gaze, I tracked the shadows dancing across the marble floors. Night swept further over the mountains, orbs of mystlight popping into existence along the ceiling’s center. Buried as we were in the lower level of the palace, one wall built directly into rock, the stars and moon were hardly visible. Dull light shone through the arched windows, gold-trimmed panes peeking between thick velvet curtains.
The Revered’s Palace was nothing if not a center of opulence, despite the fact that only Lucidius—our corrupt former leader and Malakai’s father—had occupied it in recent years. Even this level, the holding cell, was built to symbolize power.
Ice filled my veins, curling around my stomach at the reminder of the lies Lucidius Blastwood had bathed in while his people suffered. How he’d schemed with Queen Kakias of the Engrossians for decades to ignite a false war between our two clans in order to place their bastard son in the Revered’s seat as a sign of peace. The revelation sent shock waves through the continent as strong as the Spirit Volcano erupting. Thousands of Mystiques had been devastated by those actions. Yet he had been here, hidden away in his marble tower, doing Damien knew what with his days.
“Ophelia?” Malakai asked, his whisper slithering down the stone walls.
Shaking my head and blinking back to reality, I dropped Malakai’s hand and met his worry-worn eyes. “We’ll be okay.”
“I won’t utter a word.” The crease between his dark brows deepened, mystlight casting shadows on the planes of his face.
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped at the bob of his throat. The fidgeting of his stare. Perhaps he didn’t want to accompany us to protect me, but to avoid his own ghosts and the memories drawn to the surface by these cells. After signing a treaty to end the war and handing himself over to his father and the queen, spending two years as their prisoner, it made sense why this would haunt him.
I’d seen the pale scars marring his chest and torso, contorting the skin across his back. Though my stomach turned, I’d committed them to memory. This new map of his body outlined my own path to vengeance.
Setting aside my frustration for him, I stretched onto my toes to kiss his cheek, hoping that gentle touch could siphon away his pain as it once had.
“We’ll be fine, Malakai.” My voice softened with the words I left unsaid.
He stiffened, hand fisting against the bare skin above the skirt of my leathers, nails grazing softly against my spine, longing to keep me there.
“Besides,” I added, stepping out of his hold. If I didn’t, neither of us would get through tonight. “You have your own matters to attend to.”
Bricks fortified a wall between us at the reminder.
“Good luck.” I brushed my thumb across the scar his father had left on his jaw. The father I killed, I thought, dropping my hand.
He recoiled. Turned.
I almost pulled him back to me, almost indulged the desperate need flaring around my ribs, expanding with every breath. But I stayed still.
Without responding, he strode down the corridor. Each echo of boots against stone inflated the bubble around my ribs until it popped. Silence ricocheted inside of me, cementing that wall between us. Shrouding me in its shadow.
He paused before the farthest door, collecting his breaths. An echo of a pulse flashed through the Bind, the North Star tattoo we’d illegally received before he disappeared. Our jolted emotions bounced back and forth haphazardly along that sliver of threaded soul.
Over time, the bond should’ve deepened until the ink formed a bridge between us. Our own personal reality, through which we could pass thought and feeling.
But it hadn’t.
Malakai left so shortly after we’d received the Bind, our tattoos had barely settled into our skin. After being apart for years—growing and shrinking and coping—everything within the magical ink was convoluted.
Now, there was a brief sweep of knee-shaking nerves, then the connection fell silent, as if he’d brushed aside all feeling. Without another look, he knocked. A dull voice welcomed him in, and the man I loved disappeared to confront his past.
Jezebel squeezed my hand. When I looked at her, her brows were raised.
“What?”
“Is everything okay?” She jerked her head toward the door Malakai had walked through.
“Everything’s fine.” At least, everything I had space in my mind to consider right now was. “Are you ready?”
For a moment, she looked so young, with wide eyes and a slight frame. The need to shield her from pain snapped like a whip inside me, but the time for that had long passed. She may still be seventeen, but she was as much a warrior as I was—the first underage Mystique to complete the Undertaking.
She closed her eyes, and I could see her build a steel frame around her emotions. When she opened them again, the tawny depths were a void.
Together, we stepped to the closest door, the reddish-brown wood reflecting mystlight on our skin and weapons. Gathering strength from the spear, Angelborn, at my back and dismissing my thundering heart behind my ribs, I rapped my knuckles against the wood.
After a beat of strained silence during which I swore I could hear both my sister’s and my own blood rushing, a familiar voice called, “Come in.”
We stepped across the threshold of our father’s chamber, locked palms sweating. A tense rope knotted between us, each party observing the other.
A month. That’s all it had been, but an eternity of experiences spread across the stone floor like spilled oil, leaving a sheen behind even once cleaned. It was clear, there in the thickening of the air—we were not the same girls who left Palerman.
The expression on my father’s face stopped my voice in my throat, his eyes dull and cheeks hollowed out. His unbound golden hair fell in wild waves past his shoulders.
“Girls,” he whispered, pushing back from his untouched plate and standing to his full, intimidating height.
A piece of my old self crumpled at his cracked voice, and we ran forward, each fitting beneath one of our father’s arms as we had as children.
When I left on my quest, I didn’t intend to ever see my father again. I said goodbye to Palerman and my entire life, ready to greet my death at the hands of the Curse. But when the Spirit Volcano leached it from my body, I was gifted a second chance. And when Damien confirmed the Curse was a ruse, I no longer knew what to believe. As I stood there with my sister and father, all of those emotions came crashing down on me.
Reluctantly, I stifled that impending flood and pushed out of his arms. Jezebel followed my lead.
“You look…” he began, taking in the official leathers we wore. A grimace twisted his lips. My eyes drifted over my body, stopping on the Curse webbing on my wrist. The fresh white scars across my waist and arm. “The lupine daimons,” he whispered.
“The what?”
His eyes focused back on mine. “The scars are from the tundra wolves, aren’t they? The lupine daimons.” I nodded, tucking away the name for the creatures we’d battled during the first step of the Undertaking. My father’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you about them. I’m sorry they—” His words faded into a guilt-laden silence as my scars caught his stare again.
“I’m not. I’ll never forget the pain those wolves—the lupine daimons—caused me, but I’m proud to bear these scars.” He couldn’t have prepared me any better without sharing secrets of the Undertaking. “You gave us everything we needed to succeed.”
I looked over at my sister in her own leathers. The boots to her knees, with their thick soles. The gold plates around her shoulders and wrists. The fitted dress brushing mid-thigh with a tight corset up the back, made of the imbued brown leather from which Divina Delantin crafted all Mystique Warrior garb.
