17. Revelations
Revelations
Darien
S and shifted beneath Darien’s feet as he stood on the shore. On the horizon, the sun sank past the rippling waves. He was no longer in the back of the bouncing blue pickup truck. In the distance loomed the silhouette of a large palace built into the cliffs.
Darien still wore the same ripped and bloodied clothes as before, but his body was free from the pain. He glanced to his right to share his confusion with Larissa.
She had vanished. Only the crash of the waves accompanied him.
A young man approached from farther down the beach.
Darien stared. It was one thing to hallucinate himself as a child; it was another thing entirely to see himself as he was.
For the other young man was Darien himself, exactly his height and build.
His hair was a bit longer than Darien’s, and his clothing was far different, but his face could have been a mirror.
Other-Darien wore a dark blue suit with silver buttons running down the front.
On the right breast pocket was a square cut symbol of a hooked rune embroidered across the fabric.
A sword hung at other-Darien’s hip. His dark curly hair wafted in the sea breeze.
This was not a hallucination, but a memory. Darien could taste the salty air and feel the suffocating tightness of that jacket.
Other-Darien did not appear to notice him. He paced across the sand, oblivious or uncaring to Darien’s presence, as he kicked up sand on his pants. Every so often, he would pause and glance at a watch on his wrist only to resume his pacing a moment later.
“What in the name of óeinn’s right eye are you doing out here, Darien?”
Both Dariens’ heads turned at the sound of the newcomer.
The stubborn little boy from before was older, taller, and broader at his shoulders.
The blond in his hair had darkened, but it was Aeron.
He was dressed similarly to his brother, if not with more refinement.
His suit was cut to the exact shape of his shoulders and chest. The rune of Safír was etched onto his breast pocket, but his buttons were golden.
The brothers clasped hands and greeted each other in obvious comradery. Jealousy and sorrow battled within Darien at the sight.
“óeinn would understand,” other-Darien said, grinning. “I was claustrophobic waiting for them inside. They should have been back by now.”
Aeron ruffled his younger brother’s curls. “You worry like old Grímnir frets over his ravens. They’ll be fine, but I won’t be if you make me greet these guests all by myself.”
Other-Darien struggled to tame his hair. “As heir to the throne, that particular honor belongs to you, allowing me to worry in peace.”
Heir to the throne, thought Darien. The words summoned other memories of his father and mother, the King and Queen of Safír. They taught their sons the importance of their Ancestral Bloodline. It would be Aeron’s duty, as heir to the throne, to uphold the peace. That made Darien—
“Why Prince Darien,” Aeron placed a hand on his chest and leaned back as though stunned, his voice serious and lofty, although the edge of his mouth twitched. “Do you mean you won’t be the first to greet the lovely Perle Princess upon her arrival? Whatever will she do without her escort?”
Other-Darien paused in flattening his hair. “You really don’t mind if I escort her this evening? When we were kids—”
“That’s all in the past.” Aeron turned from his brother with an easy stride, but Darien saw the flash of jealousy in Aeron’s eyes.
“As first-born, it is my duty to marry within our kingdom to keep our galdr strong. Even as a second-born, you should not let your emotions run away with you. She’s not a Safirian; there’s no future there. ”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Darien, I’m serious.” Aeron turned back, laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“People have noticed. They’re all wondering who she is, this daughter of Perlian aristocrats who shows up to every gathering alone and has claimed the heart of a Safirian Prince.
It makes people curious. It could be dangerous if anyone realized who she is.
For her sake and yours, you should distance yourself. ”
Other-Darien stiffened. “I’m well-aware of the danger, Aeron.”
“I say this because I care about you—both of you. I don’t want to see either of you hurt. It’s better to accept the reality of the situation now.”
“Your Majesties!”
The brothers turned to face the arriving guard, who looked as though he had been running.
The holster that carried the gun on his hip was unclasped.
Both Aeron and other-Darien touched the hilts of their swords, their nearly identical sapphire rings glinting against the steel.
Gray fog crept over the sand, rising up around their knees.
“What is it?” Aeron barked. “What happened?”
“A messenger just arrived with word from your parents,” the guard said, one hand on his chest as he caught his breath.
“Queen Shiko attacked the other monarchs at the coronation. Your parents escaped. They are strategizing with the other monarchs and will return shortly. Prince Aeron, they have instructed that you ready our soldiers for their arrival. We already turned away the citizens for tonight’s celebration, but there is one guest who will not leave.
She claims to be an aristocrat from Perle and demands to speak with Prince Darien. ”
The other-Darien’s face drained of color. His voice echoed in Darien’s ears. “I’ll see to her.”
Then the gray fog rose to consume them all.
Darien stood in the nothingness, his mind swirling with questions. The ring on his finger warmed. Etched into its surface was the same hooked rune he had seen on Aeron’s and other-Darien’s jackets. The name of the rune came back to him. Laguz . The Safírian rune.
As he let his eyes focus on the rune, color bled into the gray fog around him. Memories from a thousand different moments played out around him. Darien’s fingers twitched at his sides. If he could just reach out and grab one, he knew he would be flung into the moment. But which one to choose?
It all depended on what he needed to know.
Who was he? Aeron had made the answer to that question clear.
He was Prince Darien of Safír, or at least, he had been.
Those events, the fall of the kingdoms, had happened decades ago.
How could Darien have been part of them?
Those of Ancestral Blood aged slowly because of their inherent galdr , but Darien knew his body.
He had not lived for half a century, galdr or no galdr .
Where had he been for all of those years? Why could he not remember the past decades, even as other memories returned?
Desperate for answers, any answers, Darien flung out his hand into the moving array of images, clasping onto the nearest one.
A voice called out from the mist. “Son, with our nation on the brink of war, it is time you start taking your responsibilities seriously.”
The gray fog faded to reveal other-Dairen standing at the foot of a long table strewn with maps and books. At the head of the table, a larger man leaned forward, bracing his hands against the wood. His eyes were hard and glossed over, his mouth set in an unyielding line as he glared at his son.
Other-Darien met his father’s glare with one of his own. “I do take my responsibilities seriously.”
“With Aeron heading to Smaragd, I can’t have you running off to Perle. We need you here.”
“Lovisa needs me.”
The name clicked. The warmth in his stomach and the rush in his veins told Darien two things. One, that Lovisa was the Princess of Perle. Two, that he had loved her.
But the warmth of her name was doused by the way Darien’s father, his real father, ground his teeth at his son’s answer. “Our nation is more important than your infatuation, Darien.”
Other-Darien clenched his hands and worked his jaw before replying. “Queen Stjarna believes that hiding Lovisa, Anara, and I is the best option until we learn how to defeat Shiko. Aeron should have come with us, not gone off to Smaragd on his own.”
“And that’s what you want? To hide?”
As if in response to Darien’s discomfort, the scene before him was already fading.
The gray fog returned, blurring out his father’s anger.
Unbidden, Aagen’s understanding gaze and his blessing played in Darien’s mind in stark contrast to his father’s disappointed frustration.
Pushing aside the unsettling thoughts, Darien’s mind returned to the bright spot of the memory that warmed his very core.
Lovisa .
Surrounded again by the fog, Darien wrestled with his thoughts.
The yearning he felt for Lovisa was palpable, burning in his hands and aching in the back of his throat.
Yet his mind strayed to Larissa’s golden eyes.
Focusing on the rune of his ring, Darien called back the dizzying array of memories that swirled around him.
As if reading his mind, the images all featured one person.
Lovisa.
Darien reached for another image and stepped out of the fog onto a lakeshore.
The full moon threw its light on the cresting of the waves.
The other-Darien was there too, pacing again.
He’d abandoned his dress clothes for dark pants and a black leather jacket, clearly assisting him in going unnoticed in the shadows of the night.
“Darien,” said a soft feminine voice.
It came from behind him, but before Darien could turn to look, the girl ran past so quickly that all he caught was a blur of starlight white hair. She threw herself into the arms of other-Darien, whose feet sank into the sand as he steadied them both.
Darien’s heart knew her before his mind could catch up.
Princess Lovisa of Perle.
Darien’s heart thumped erratically against his ribs. Other-Darien cupped the back of the Princess’ head, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with the loose hair as he released her from the embrace. Darien couldn't help but wonder if it was as soft as Larissa’s.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” other-Darien said. His voice took on a bitter twist. “Rubin betrayed us.”
“Did you hear?” Lovisa whispered, burying her head in other-Darien’s chest. “Shiko executed the royal family of Smaragd, even after they surrendered.”
Other-Darien’s fingers stilled. “I heard.”
“Do you think Kiah could have survived?”
“I don’t know.”
The memories of this moment came back more strongly than any of the previous.
Darien remembered thinking that Kiah, Princess of Smaragd, had most likely been killed along with her unborn child, but not having the heart to tell Lovisa.
As if drawn into other-Darien’s mind and emotions, he moved closer.
“Have you heard anything from Aeron?” Lovisa asked.
Aeron had gone to give aid to the Smaragd kingdom. That was before they had realized Smaragd had no desire to fight. Aeron had departed for a lost cause. Weeks had passed with no word from Aeron or his men. Upon hearing the news, his father’s dark moods had only grown worse.
Other-Darien cleared his throat. “No.”
The girl lifted her head, but Darien could only see the back of her hair, laced with braids.
“Anara is stuck in the middle of Rubin’s civil war, Aeron is missing, and Smaragd has fallen.
I catch my mother staring at me all the time.
My father worries about our people. Shiko hasn’t even reached our borders, and I feel like we’ve already lost.”
“This isn’t like you. Look at me. What’s going on?”
Darien still couldn’t make out Lovisa’s face. Her shoulders bunched up tightly against her neck. There was something familiar about that posture.
“Will you leave me too?” she whispered.
“No.” Other-Darien’s hands grasped hers. “No, I swear on the Norn, I will never leave you.”
“Don’t swear when you might not have a choice.” She paused, then flung herself into her next words. “My mother is planning something, Dar. She won’t talk about it, but I don’t know if we’ll have a choice in what happens next.”
“Nothing can separate us.”
The fog returned, covering the sand. Darien was losing his grasp on the memory.
He was so close; he needed to know. He sprang forward, meaning only to face the Princess himself, to remember her face, but found himself standing exactly where other-Darien had stood.
He had taken over his counterpart’s body; he knew it by the feel of Lovisa’s soft hands in his.
The faint scent of cherries washed over him, stirring the blood in his veins. He looked into the Princess’ face, struck dumb by its familiarity, by the small nose set just beneath a pair of bright eyes, as golden as the blazing sun.
“D arien, are you alright?”
Awake from his vision, Darien stared into the same golden eyes as before, now filled with confusion and fear.
Why was he lying in the bed of the truck?
Who was he? Field hand or prince? The two sets of memories, of separate lives, battled in his brain for dominance.
In the end, the facade was swept aside by truth.
He remembered the promise he had made to Lovisa. The promise he had broken.
“Darien?”
It was her voice. How could he have forgotten her voice?
Without thinking, he raised his hand, cupping Larissa’s— Lovisa’s —uninjured cheek, wanting nothing more than to draw her into an embrace, to apologize for leaving her. The shock on her face stopped him; he forced himself to pull back even as the truth plunged like a knife into his chest.
She didn’t remember him.
A ripple of pain shot through him. He still cupped her face in his hand. Encouraged that she wasn’t pulling away, he cleared his throat. “I know you.”
She shifted. “Well, I should hope so after what we just went through.”
“No, I know you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve been sleeping for hours, Darien. Did you remember something? Was it Queen Stjarna? Was she the one who took you to Aagen’s house?” She clenched his hands more tightly, her voice rising with desperate hope. “Is Halla the Princess?”
Darien shook his head, his voice a whisper. “Lovisa, it’s you.”
Larissa’s eyes darkened. “What did you call me?”
“Lovisa, you’re the Perle Princess.”