Chapter 2
Two
Lucent has never looked so foreign to me, and I’m a stranger to my homeland.
As Leif and I ride down the main road on the back of our horses, busy citizens go about their every day.
They carry baskets of goods in and out of the wooden storefronts and the square bustles with the sounds of animals and hammers banging against metal.
Most wear drab attire—brown trousers and shifts covered with aprons—clothing they don’t mind getting dirty with a hard day’s work.
Many of the shopkeepers look up from their tasks to nod or flirtatiously wink at my best friend, but they don’t spare me a second glance.
No bows or even a shyly spoken Your Grace.
The people of Lucent don’t recognize me.
Perhaps it’s my appearance. After two days of occasional stops and sleeping on the ground, I must look like something a tornado tossed into town.
My hair is matted, clothes rumpled, and my eyes are heavy with big dark bags.
I look and feel anything but royal at the moment.
But isn’t that what I spent the last seven months doing, hiding what I’m anointed to be as I tried to find myself?
I wanted a chance to catch my breath and know who I am before I’m fully dedicated to my calling.
I learned to harness the Sacred Gift of the Statera, wield a sword to almost perfection, and met new people from the five kingdoms. Yet I still don’t have a firm grip on who I should be.
Though my time away was cut short, I doubt I would have come to a definitive answer within the few months I had left.
I lost a bit of who I was. I’m not as poised or as trusting.
The part of me that held on to romantic dreams and smiled more than frowned is missing.
I hope I can find her again and merge her with who I’ve become.
We round the last corner toward the palace, and my heart flutters like it has transformed into an enormous butterfly. I reach out and brush my fingers through Nortus’ black mane to hide their trembling. My horse snorts, and his stride switches to a trot.
“Are you happy to be home, big boy?” I ask, patting the side of his ebony neck.
“Statera, yes. I’m ready to sleep in a bed.”
I drag my eyes away from my horse to Leif and cock a brow.
“Oh, you were…” He points to Nortus.
I chuckle and shake my head.
Zek rode ahead of us early this morning to let Micah know we were on our way.
I was relieved to be out from under his watchful eye and to spend time alone with Leif.
During our journey home, we mostly focused on me and the things I did while away.
Now that we are close to the palace and the demands that come with our status, I regret not inquiring more about him.
“We can talk about your bed if you like. Who’s warming it now?” I ask.
“The same bronzed, drill sergeant god who was warming it when you left.”
“Really? Wel is still putting up with you?”
Leif’s entire face lights up like the surface of the sun. “Yeah, Wel is still putting up with me. Is that so hard to believe?”
“No. I’ve put up with you my entire life. Some of us have stronger nerves than others.” I flash him a wide, mocking smile.
“Or some people are just a perfect fit.”
My mind races to the last conversation I had with the Sibyl archivist. “Is he your parah?”
“No, but he’s the one.”
The hope rising in me sinks to the pit of my stomach like a boulder in water.
It would have been nice if our promise to wed didn’t shackle us both to this life.
I could have found some peace in knowing Leif was free to belong solely to the man he loves.
But like so many things in my life, it’s not that simple.
We reach the palace gate, and the guards straighten their backs and lift their chins. The iron chest shield over their red tunics clanks against the spears in their hands as they stand at attention.
“Welcome back, Lord Stone,” one says.
My head jerks in Leif’s direction, but before I can open my mouth, the other guard speaks up.
“Your Grace?” he says, uncertainty lacing his tone. When I look at him, a smile pulls at his bearded face, and he bows. “It’s good to see you safely home, Your Grace.”
“Thank you,” I say, steering Nortus past them. I wait until we’re a few meters away from prying eyes and listening ears and ask, “Since when do the guards call you lord instead of captain?”
Leif focuses on the green grass and shrubs lining the roadway. “Since today. Retrieving you was my last mission for the army.”
This can’t be right. If he is no longer serving at Basecamp, then he won’t be near Wel.
They’ll hardly ever see each other. I understand how suffocating these walls can be.
I spent every day of my childhood within them, learning what would be demanded of me as a ruler.
Leif was my reprieve. He ran wild, laughed, and played.
If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have known anything about being a child.
I can’t stand the thought of him bound within this place and away from someone he loves.
“I’ll talk to Micah and change his mind,” I say.
“Don’t waste your breath. I’ve been called to the palace to learn my place as king consort. I start my instruction with Borin in a few weeks. There’s no way you’re changing his mind. Besides, they say I’m needed alive for a greater purpose than that.”
“To make an heir,” I groan.
“Who knew my man juice was so valuable?”
I scrunch my nose. “Ew. Please don’t call it that.”
Leif tilts his head back and laughs. It’s a contagious and hearty sound, that I’m sure the stable hands can hear on the other side of the property. “Don’t worry about me. My new station came with perks. Micah allowed me to choose my personal guard.”
“He did?”
The king has always been particular about who he grants access to the palace.
The history of our people is housed in the palace library, and all matters concerning our kingdom are discussed within its walls.
And as important as those things are, it’s the people who reside inside that Micah cares for most. Every staffer and guard are hand chosen by him or Borin, with the hopes of adding them to their circle of trusted palace staff.
We reach the front of the palace, and a wide boyish smile takes residence on Leif’s handsome face. “Yes, he did.”
I follow his gaze to the arched entrance constructed of river rock. A group of staff and guards stand at the ready, waiting for us. Among them is a smaller but muscular guard with shaved black hair and dark tan skin.
Wel rushes forward to take the reins of Leif’s horse. “I’m so happy you’re home, my lord.”
Leif’s lip quirks, and I can see the wheels turning inside his head. He dismounts and walks around Wel. The tips of his fingers brush over his forearm as he passes, and Wel blushes. Leif is going to take advantage of his new title, and I’m sure his lover is more than happy to oblige.
“Your Grace,” Wel says, clearing his throat and taking a deep bow.
I jump down from Nortus on to unsteady legs. My burning thighs feel like I’m still mounted on a phantom horse after days of riding. “Wel, it’s good to see you,” I say with a smile.
I’m ecstatic about seeing him and Leif together. They radiate so much love and joy for each other in the smallest of tasks. It’s hard not to be a little jealous, but my love for them as a couple vastly outweighs my envy.
“Welcome home, Your Grace,” says the palace steward, a balding man wearing a black jacket with his arms clasped behind his back.
“Thank you,” I reply.
“Your bath is being drawn as we speak. Once you are presentable, His Majesty will see you in his study.”
I nod and enter the foyer. Everything is as it was before I left—crisp white walls with glossy black accents.
A tall vase with exotic flowers adds a splash of color and fills the space with a sweet floral scent.
The familiarity should feel comfortable, yet I’m out of place.
It’s like everything suspended in time as I continued to live. It’s an odd feeling.
I pass countless guards and staffers as I weave through the hallways to my quarters.
Each of them properly addresses and welcomes me home before carrying on with their duties.
By the time I reach my door, I’m not sure I can stomach one more Your Grace, and I’m not looking forward to the constant chatter and pampering from the staff who wait for me inside.
The normalcy I found among the Sibyls is creeping away.
As a neutral sovereign nation, the Sibyls give little thought to monarchies and titles.
They don’t care if governments consider some of their citizens free or captive.
Kingdom politics is not something they dabble in.
Their purpose is to act on the behalf of the Statera in matters of the gifts and being in the presence of a future queen doesn’t excite them the way it does others. That way of life suited me just fine.
I stop short of my quarter’s door. Zek has returned to wearing his palace uniform of crimson and iron and stands ramrod straight with his eyes focused ahead. “I see we’re back to formalities,” I say.
He doesn’t look at me, but one side of his mouth quirks up. “Are we? I’ll be happy to invite you for a stroll in the palace gardens if you like.”
The laugh escaping me feels foreign, but good. It has been a moment since something so lighthearted has inched past my meticulously reconstructed walls. But it doesn’t surprise me that it’s Zek who found a way around them. Maybe I’ll find some of my old self sooner than I thought.
I grip the doorknob to my quarters and turn it.
The smell of lavender wafts from the room and standing in the center is a beautiful girl.
She has styled her red hair in a thick braid crowning her head, and the light green dress she wears complements her pale freckled face.
She smiles and says in a singsong voice, “Welcome home, Your Grace.”