Chapter 30 #2
Nya slumped onto one of the benches, a hand on her middle.
Her gown spilled around her, the fabric brushing against the smooth white stones plastered together in strange patterns on the ground.
Anabeth had been the one to procure the monstrosity of silver and dove gray tulle, gathered into a corseted bodice that had been laced far too tight for Nya’s comfort.
She pressed a hand to her constricted stomach, and Carus eyed the dress warily. “Can you breathe in that thing?”
She rubbed her ribs, wincing. “Hardly.”
She carefully untangled the iron circlet from her hair. It was a twin to Morgen’s, stars hammered delicately into its shining surface—the crown her mother would have worn if she had actually wed Kronos.
She rubbed at her scalp. “No one told me being a queen would be so uncomfortable.”
“You can wear whatever damned clothes you like,” Morgen grumbled. “Don’t let anyone tell you there’s a ‘proper’ way.”
“And if they do,” Carus added, “just ask them where following the ‘proper way’ got them.”
Her lips twitched. “Noted.”
Footsteps crunched the gravel, and all three of them turned to see her parents approaching from down a shadowed pathway of the garden. Nya got to her aching feet as they neared.
“Are you leaving?” she asked, ignoring the way her chest tightened as she spoke.
Her mother nodded, smiling sadly. Her eyes shone with tears when she touched Nya’s cheek with cool fingertips. “Not forever. We’ll be back often, I’m sure.”
“Don’t feel guilty for needing to go. I understand now,” she whispered.
Her mother pulled her into a tight hug. “My brave, brave girl,” she whispered into her hair. “I love you more than all the stars combined.”
Nya clung to her, squeezing her eyes shut and memorizing the comforting scent of jasmine and night air that always clung to her. “I love you, Mama.”
When they finally parted, Nya threw her arms around her father, who held her tight before sighing and gently pulling away from her.
“Do you still remember how to throw a punch?” he asked, his expression completely serious.
She laughed even as her eyes burned with tears. “Of course.”
“Good.” He tapped her nose. “If he ever gives you trouble…” His gaze flicked back to Morgen, and he raised his hand, curled into a fist. “Punch first, ask questions later. And call for Thessilnn or Heles if you ever need anything.”
“I’ll be fine.” She took a deep breath. “You can stop worrying.”
He patted her cheek. “Not possible.”
“What if I make a complete mess of ruling Arcadia?”
“Also not possible,” he said, smiling and adding, “I love you. We’ll be back soon, alright?”
She sniffled. “I love you too.”
Both her parents hugged her one last time before they turned to Carus. She left them alone to say their goodbyes, following Morgen deeper into the hedge maze.
They walked in silence for a while. An owl hooted nearby, and foliage rustled in a light breeze.
In many regards, Arcadia was not so different from the mortal realm.
Still, there was an undercurrent of magic she had never felt in Mise, or even D’anna.
Mortals were the only source of magic beyond Arcadia’s borders, but here, the magic lived within the land itself, stabilized now thanks to the embers humming warmly in her chest.
“You really know how to punch someone?”
She smirked. “Are you afraid of me now?”
Morgen snorted. “No. I was just curious if it was merely an empty threat.”
She swatted at him and exclaimed in mock rage, “Rude!”
He chuckled, some of the tension that had gathered in his face over the course of the day easing. She tipped her head back, staring at the expanse of star-speckled sky above them.
“It came to me again,” she said quietly. “In a dream, while I was recovering.”
Morgen stopped walking. “What did it want?”
She glanced at him. It had grown cold enough that their breath clouded the air, but she didn’t mind. “It took the form of a child,” she told him. “A young girl. All it wanted was to make sure I remembered its true name.”
“Did you?” he asked hoarsely.
“Of course. But there was a reason it appeared the way it did in the dream.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed softly and took his hand in hers, pressing it to her flat stomach. When she looked at him, his eyes were wide, aglow with blazing amber-gold.
“She looked like us, whoever she was,” she said quietly. “And someday, we will give her that name, so this world will not forget it again.”
She knew her words frightened him, and she knew why.
He did not understand in the way she did and never would, but neither of them spoke further about it for now.
She lifted her eyes to the night sky once more, and he joined her this time.
Two dragons flew overhead; one dark as midnight, the other the same milky shade as the full moon.
Varax followed before looping back a few minutes later, an escort and a farewell for now.
The stars sputtered and flickered, as if wishing Night and Death’s daughter goodbye for now. Nya’s mouth lifted when she saw it, her smile growing when the expanse of the midnight sky paused before lighting up once more—an acknowledgment to her too, the one who had finally seen it for what it was.
Not a monster or a hero. Not evil nor good. Simply an existence.
“Nya,” Morgen murmured, hand still pressed to her stomach. “You’re cold. We should go back inside.”
She finally lowered her gaze from the stars, and it was Morgen who caught sight of the bright-red comet streaking above.
“Good luck?” she asked him.
He shrugged, but his voice held a hint of surprise when he told her, “In Arcadia, red is the color of honor and sacred things. I suppose…some might say to see a comet such as that the night of our coronation is approval of the Fates themselves.”
“I see.” She paused. “I suppose you’re right. We should return.”
He kissed her cheek then took her hand as they walked. They returned to the ridiculous party, new gods blessed by the very void from which the world had been made.