Chapter 20 #2
My father pulls him into his arms and hugs him. I don’t miss the way Kyron fists the back of my father’s jacket, holding him tightly, or how every muscle in his shoulders relaxes when my father holds him in just as firm of a grip.
“He loved you, Kyron,” Papa whispers.
“I know.” Kyron’s back shudders as he presses his face to my father’s shoulder. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save him.”
Papa pats him twice on the back and grips his biceps, holding him an arm’s length away. “Be thankful. Honor my king and your uncle. If it were not for him, you may have lost your parah today.”
Kyron nods. “I am and I will.”
I look back at my mother and sisters as they watch the shared affection the men have for each other.
Ansley studies Kyron, her big, brown eyes taking in every inch of his face.
She takes a small step forward and fidgets with her ruffled skirt.
Salone meets my gaze and follows it to Ansley, who now stands ahead of her.
She tilts her head at our little sister, and I shrug.
With a deep breath that puffs out her chest, Ansley closes the distance between her and Kyron. She tugs on the bottom of his jacket, and his conversation with my father stops mid-sentence. He turns and tucks his hands behind his back.
“Sorry to bother you, Your Grace,” she says.
Kyron swiftly runs his palms over his eyes and clears his throat. “How may I help you?”
“I’m Ansley Mansi, the queen’s youngest sister.”
He holds out his palm to my sister and says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ansley.”
“You as well,” she replies, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry about your uncle and about my brother’s rude behavior. I hope you won’t hold it against him. We just really love our sister. You made her really sad, and she left us so she could fix her broken heart.”
Ansley isn’t oblivious to the tumultuous history between our kingdoms. She’s heard the stories about the injustices committed against the Cyffreds and the Stigian queen who tortures those who cross her.
She grinds the tips of her shoes into the ground as she winds her dress around her small fingers.
The nervous gestures tell me that she believes Kyron might be capable of the same atrocities and could punish Rowan for his outburst.
Kyron lowers his tall frame into a squat, bringing him and her eye to eye. “I promise not to hold it against him. And I apologize for hurting your sister and for the hurt that caused you and your family.” He glances up at my mother and father, letting them see the sincerity in his eyes.
My heart swells when they both nod with silent forgiveness.
He returns his attention back to Ansley. “I promise you that I will never hurt her like that again.”
She tilts her head to the side, her brows furrowing. “Do you love Raelle?”
“Yes.”
“How can you love her when you will one day be the king of Stigian, and she is the Lucent queen? You can never be together. You are enemies.”
Kyron puckers his lips and nods, showing her that the question has merit. “That’s an excellent question. Can you keep a secret?”
“Yes! I’m good at keeping secrets. I didn’t tell Mama when Raelle left to save Papa. It was Rowan who finally opened his big mouth.”
Salone and I chuckle. Rowan has never been good at keeping important matters from our parents. The boy is the most honest person I know. In fact, he is honest to a fault at times.
Kyron leans in and whispers in my little sister’s ear. Her lips part, forming an O and she looks over at me.
“Really?” she asks.
Kyron smiles, and I melt when his dimples indent in his cheeks. It’s the kind of smile I don’t get to see often. Our current situation and the ones that have preceded it haven’t called for it. “Yes, really,” he says.
Ansley presses a quick kiss to his cheek and skips to my side. “I like him, Raelle.”
I smile down at her and say, “I’m happy you approve.”
The carriage at the front of the procession creaks, followed by the slide of wood on wood. Everyone turns toward the hearse as palace guards move forward carrying Micah’s coffin. The little joy we’ve found vanishes just as quickly as it came.
I hate to think that his body will lay lifeless inside that confined space for eternity.
It’s hard to believe that an ornate, oak box can contain a being who encompassed so much conviction, compassion, and love.
But the best parts of Micah will not be entombed with him.
Every Lucent will carry on his legacy. Borin exhibits his unconditional love, my father shares those same beliefs of equality, and each of his people knows the makings of a just leader.
They will pass a piece of Micah to each person they encounter, and so he lives on.
The Lucent soldiers training with my father and the Stigian general have lined both sides of the stairs leading to the sanctuary’s entrance. They kneel in respect as the guards pass with his body. I grasp Borin’s hand, leading him into the holy place where his husband will be laid to rest.
This is goodbye, and neither of us is ready to let go. Isn’t that the way it always is though? Life doesn’t stop for heartache and loss. All we can do is find the strength to take one step after the other and move into the unknown.
The catacombs under the sanctuary are dirt tunnels with golden lights along the floor.
Earth and dust combine with the dank air, making it hard to breathe.
Pliris’ past rulers lay at rest in crypts with their images carved in stone on the top.
Placards nailed to the front of the tombs declare the greatness of the sovereign or their spouse encased within.
The layers of dirt on the crypts testify that the bodies are forgotten, and the legacy of these people doesn’t dwell here but within ancient tomes and legends shared by their people.
I look back at the box of stone that now houses Micah’s body. It’s pathetic compared to his ancestors. Nothing marks the grave as his. There’s no likeness on top or stone chiseled summary of his life. It’s as if Micah doesn’t exist at all among his predecessors.
Hurt and anger boil inside me. My king’s crypt should be elevated above the rest, adorned with his favorite flowers, and the statue that pays tribute to who he was should stand tall and powerful.
This isn’t how I wish to honor the man who broke the mold set in place by each ruler in here.
He was the first to see Khiros and Cyffreds as equals.
Micah was extraordinary, and they were all one in the same.
I walk through the gate that protects the catacombs with Kyron at my side, his fingers wrapped around mine.
As the cryptkeepers eased Micah’s casket into the tomb, our hands found each other, and we haven’t let go since.
I’m not sure if he is looking for solace for himself or wishing to give it to me, but it doesn’t matter.
He is with me, seeing me through one of the most painful moments of my life and that is all I can ask for.
“I’ll make sure his crypt is finished the way it should be,” Kyron says as we climb the stairs out of the catacombs.
I almost ask how he knows what is bothering me, but he squeezes my hand and it’s clear.
The array of emotions I’ve felt today have been intense.
I wonder how he can stand to touch me when I’m so sad and angry.
It can’t be easy for him to experience what I’m going through when he is sorting through his grief as well.
I run my thumb back and forth over his palm, hoping it offers him some comfort. “Thank you, Kyron.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I would do anything to lessen the pain you feel, and it’s my privilege to honor Micah.”
“I’m sure your mother will be pleased. She even went out of her way to not attend his burial,” I say, my tone dripping with contempt for the queen.
He stiffens and his hold on me wavers. We have spoken little about his mother other than her tactics for ruling.
I’ve made clear my hatred toward everything she stands for.
I’m pretty sure my disdain for the woman matches hers for me.
I’ve never guarded my thoughts about her around Kyron, but I question if I took it too far this time.
We step into the stone-lined back hallway of the sanctuary.
Black doors lead to the meditation rooms and bronze light fixtures illuminate the way.
The soles of our shoes tap against the shiny onyx floors as we continue to the tunnel that leads to the palace.
Kyron walks faster, putting some room between us and the others.
“I didn’t want to say anything while you and your family were dealing with the loss of Micah, but we have a problem. ”
My life as queen was never destined to be easy, but I’ve only held my station for less than a day. I don’t think I can handle another issue after the tragic events I’ve endured. But complications will never yield just because my life is spinning out of control.
“Is this about what your general was discussing with you when we arrived?” I ask.
“It is. I’m requesting a military strategy meeting.”
“Right now?”
He runs his palm down his face and says, “I’m sorry, but this can’t wait.”
“What is going on?”
“The Allaji attacked Stigian during the battle in Lucent today, and they took my mother.”
“Shit. You should have said something before now.” Guilt rushes through me. I hold no sympathy for Esmeray, but I hate to think I’ve added to his pain today. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head and his jaw flexes. “We can only deal with one issue at a time, and now we have to figure this one out.”