Chapter 2 #2
I rush into the sitting room, leaving Zek to close the door behind me, and throw my arms around her. “Salone, I missed you,” I whisper against her hair.
“I missed you too, big sister.” She places her hands on my shoulders and holds me away from her.
Her nose wrinkles and her lip curls. “You smell terrible, like horse, dirt, and the Statera knows what else. I’ll be relinquished of my service if I let you go to the king like this.
And what is in your hair?” She plucks a leaf from it and holds it out for me to see.
“Have you not kept up with the beauty routine I made for you?”
“No,” I sheepishly say. “Don’t you want to ask me about my time away?”
She spins me around toward the washroom and pushes me forward. “You can tell me all about it as I pray to the Statera for the power to clean you up quickly. Micah is expecting you within the hour.”
“You could have worn one of the new dresses I had commissioned for you,” Salone says, struggling to keep up with my quick stride.
I spare her a sidelong glance as we moved through the palace hallways. She wanted me to look like the queens of the past, like the ones found in the gilded images lining the corridor’s walls. Jeweled crowns, lace, and silk, it isn’t me. I’ve never felt as graceful and demure as them.
“I compromised, didn’t I?” I say, lifting the flowing train of my jacket. “Many of the queens of the past wore pants.”
My sister eyes my ensemble made up of silk pants that match the embroidery on my jacket. “Did you have to choose something from the side of your closet designated for mourning garments?”
“Is that what this is?” I say, running my fingers over the silver buttons that match the shimmering thread woven into the soft black material.
I knew exactly what I had chosen. The cluster of black dresses, tunics, and britches had appealed to me more than the other rich, colorful fabrics.
Besides, black is a truer depiction of my mood.
We turn down the long hallway leading to Micah’s study, and I glance out of a window overlooking the gardens.
Flowering bushes surround marble statues representing the gifts of the Statera.
The gardens were once my favorite place in the palace.
I’d made so many fond memories strolling along the paths with loved ones and venturing off on my own to get lost in the greenery.
I also made an unforgettable memory with Kyron amongst the flowers.
Veiled by the dark of night, we clasped hands and made our way to the back wall.
Cherry blossoms fluttered around us and clung to his ebony hair.
I remember thinking he appeared so innocent and carefree, speckled in pink petals.
Hidden under the vines of ivy is my secret passage to the Omnis.
Just as he shared with me the Aurora next to the stream, I showed him the place where I found the most peace.
It was such a surreal moment, and when he kissed me…
My chest tightens with a dull ache, and my lips tingle.
“Your Grace, are you all right?” Zek says, closing the respectable distance he keeps from my sister and me.
I yank my hand away from my mouth and look around the hallway, realizing I stopped walking. With a strained smile, I say, “Sorry, I got lost in thought. I’m just a little worried about why Micah called me home early.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Salone says, taking my hand.
The smell of eucalyptus and the sensation of hundreds of leaves brushing over my skin invade my senses. The tense muscles in my shoulders relax and my pounding head goes silent. My sister guides me forward and by the time we reach the door to Micah’s study, I’m calm.
“Better?” she asks, releasing my fingers and taking her gift with her.
It’s tempting to pull it back and bask in her powers—the same power as our mother’s. As Piantis, they can summon plants to do their bidding. Some wield the gift to tend to our food source, others use it as a weapon, but my mother and sister call upon it to ease the worries of those around them.
“Yes, much better. Thank you.” I rub her slender arm and smile. “Sometimes I think there’s nothing you can’t do.”
She cocks her head to the side and places her hand on her hip. “I can’t make you wear a proper dress.”
I nod at the guard standing outside of the door, signaling I’m ready to enter the room. “I’m sure you’ll eventually get your way in that as well.”
“I’m sure I will. Good luck in there.”
I cling to her last words as the guard opens the door, and I step inside.
Rich woods and floor to ceiling shelves packed with books make up the study.
A large mahogany desk sits at the head of the room, with a group of people gathered around it.
Everyone falls silent, and all eyes turn to me.
The door shuts with a loud click, and I jerk, hiding my trembling hands behind my back.
Everyone stands and bows, leaving Micah the center of attention.
He remains seated behind the desk with an iron crown resting over his black hair.
I note the bags under his jade eyes and the worry line between his brows.
He is missing his jacket and has bunched the sleeves of his embellished tunic at his elbows.
It’s not like him to look so unkempt unless he’s stressed.
Despite my spiking concern, the lessons Borin spent the better part of my life teaching me take hold. I lower into a deep curtsy and say, “Your Majesty.”
Holding the submissive posture with my eyes downcast to the ornate rug is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. Not because my last chance for true freedom is slipping away, but because the people I love fill this room. People I haven’t seen in months. People I long to embrace.
“Thank you for returning early, Raelle,” Micah says.
“Of course,” I reply, moving toward the group.
My first stop is the woman who mentored me during my time at Basecamp.
She wears an olive-green officer’s jacket and tight tan trousers.
Greer throws her buff brown arms around me, and her long mahogany braid sweeps across her back.
Her shapely lips pull into a wide grin, and her stoic expression softens.
“Things haven’t been the same since you left,” she says.
I take in a deep breath, basking in the scent of a bonfire lingering in her jacket. As I firmly hold her to me, a sensation like a wave washing upon the shore rolls through me. The Eporri attracts her gift to control water.
“Are Ulric and Terro here too?” I ask against her shoulder.
“I needed someone to look over Basecamp, and those two idiots were my best option.”
I laugh and release her.
The time I spent at Basecamp always remains in the back of my mind.
I miss the regimented days and the camaraderie found at night, but mostly I’ve longed for the banter between the three best friends.
They made me earn my way into their group, but once they accepted me, it was as easy as being with my siblings.
Greer looks me up and down. “Shit, those Sibyls worked you hard. You’re all lean muscles.”
“You’re telling me. They’re fierce. It made me miss the grueling days with you at the wall,” I say, running my palms up and down my biceps.
“I’m more than happy to put their training to the test. You name the time, and I’ll meet you on the sparring field or you could finally climb the damn thing.”
“I’ll pass on the wall, but I might take you up on the sparring. I look forward to winning.”
Greer laughs and claps me on the back. “We’ll see about that.”
I move to the side of the desk where Borin stands with Leif by his side.
Micah’s husband taught me everything I know about how to act like a queen.
It was his influence that gave me the courage to go to the temple and learn from the Sibyls.
In my heart, I knew I’d find more strength in knowledge than returning to Basecamp and resuming my role as a soldier, but it was still a tough decision to make.
Borin tilts his chin down and the sun shining through the bay windows gleams off his bald head.
He places a rich umber hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
His full lips pull into a smile, and his deep voice rumbles through my chest as he says, “I hope you were able to find some peace of mind while you were away. I am guessing you could have used the rest of your time, but I have to admit, I am glad you are home.”
“It’s nice to see you, too.” I hug him, his palms warm at my back. Sinking into his soft navy-blue jacket, I let his gift radiate through me. His light is a comfort he has offered me countless times, and it has energized me when I pull away and face my godfather.
“Raelle,” Micah says, standing and pulling me into his arms. He drops his voice so only I can hear him. “I hope you will forgive me. I realize I promised you more time, and I tried everything I could to give it to you, but the matter at hand refused to wait.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He leans back and brushes his soft hands, smelling of earth and spice, over my cheekbone. “I will explain. But first, you must say hello to one more person.”
I saved the best for last.
My heart races, and the giddy feeling inside of me brings a wide grin to my face. I fling my arms around my father’s neck and squeeze. “I missed you so much,” I say, my voice muffled by his broad chest.
“I missed you too,” he says, placing a kiss on the crown of my head.
It’s a relief to see him looking like the strong man who I remember from my childhood.
When I left for the temple, he was regaining the weight he lost while he was the Stigian queen’s captive.
My father had withered in her keep, torn from his parah and the family he adored.
He made a great sacrifice to protect the young man he secretly raised, only to have him betray us.
I brush my fingers over the graying hair at his temples and study the age lines around his eyes and mouth. Time could never wreak havoc on his handsome face. “You look fantastic, practically twenty years younger since the last time I saw you.”
“Thank you. But…” He purses his lips and searches my face, staring at me with brown eyes that match my own. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.”
He asks again, slower and with authority. “How are you doing, Raelle?”
I struggle through the emotion threatening to boil out of me and my voice is gravelly as I say, “It still hurts, but with every passing day, I move closer to feeling like myself again.”
A worry line forms in between his eyes and his mouth ticks down.
He understands better than anyone else in this study what I’m going through.
Kyron didn’t just betray my trust, but my father’s too.
He also knows the hurt of being separated from the person he loves.
For a year, he lived without my mother. They may not be parahs but that doesn’t mean he didn’t experience a similar deep, agonizing void that nothing can fill.
“You can conquer anything. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says.
“Thank you, Papa.”
My father straightens his officer’s jacket and gestures for me to sit in the chair next to his. I lower into the seat and direct my attention to Micah.
The king glides his thumb along the flap of an envelope with a broken seal and takes a long breath in.
His chest expands with the air and he slowly releases it.
My skin crawls with anticipation, and I fidget from side to side.
I suspected this wouldn’t be a comfortable meeting, but waiting for Micah to gather his thoughts is on the verge of torture.
His gaze meets mine, and he slides the envelope across his desk toward me.
I stare at the emblem pressed into the red wax on the flap—the Stigian crest. There’s only one reason our rival kingdom would send correspondence, and it’s not to warn us that they plan to attack a small farming community in the dead of night.
They need something from us, and I have a feeling of what it is.
With quaking hands, I open the flap and remove the thick parchment paper inside. In elegant handwritten script, it reads:
Queen Esmeray Noor LeFur,
Sovereign of the Stigian Kingdom
requests your attendance to
the anointing of her son
Prince Kyron Niklaus LeFur
as the next Stigian king.
The ceremony will take place at
the Stigian sanctuary
at dusk, on the day of the next full moon.
A spark of hope I hadn’t realized still existed inside me plummets to the pit of my stomach. A part of me wished for the Statera to give Kyron the strength to walk away and return to me. I wanted us to find our happiness together. Like a falling star colliding with the earth, that dream is dead.
I gnaw on the inside of my lip, placing the announcement on Micah’s desk. “We expected this. I don’t understand why you called me home because of it. The treaty with Esmeray states that you’ll bless who she chooses.”
“We will bless Kyron,” Micah states.
I lift my brows and lean forward. “No, we won’t. You’re the sovereign and the one who needs to be there for the anointing. You and Esmeray pulled it off just fine for me.”
Micah pinches the bridge of his nose, and Borin rubs his back. “The Sacred Gifts of the Statera are needed for the ceremony, Raelle. We need you to complete it.”
My jaw goes slack as I rub the Eporri in my outer thigh and whisper, “Fuck.”