15. Ryker
Ryker
A long week has passed, and it’s only the beginning of this war. My mother has summoned the commandants of Terra, Faris, and Proto—land, sea, and space. The Regils already swarm the palace, awaiting decisions on troop deployments and planetary support.
I know my mother wishes I were king. She doesn’t know about my magic, or Raea’s, and right now, I’m not really sure how to tell her. She knows about our relationship, but telling her about us being fated mates, about our Fae and Elven bloodlines, the prophecy…
I can’t bring myself to tell her right now. She’s finally in a stable place, and I’m not sure where the landmines are.
It’s late when I crawl into bed, but I can’t sleep.
Without my mother’s calming powers, I can’t ignore the burning in my chest. I hate being this far from Raea, even though I know she’s safe.
At least with King Bastian’s ability to ward the palace, it means that as long as she is inside, nothing can get to her.
I can only hope that Raea isn’t scared right now.
My mind swirls thinking about our people.
How many of them know that the Veil has failed?
How many planets will be evacuated? What will the darkness do?
How are Raea and I going to stop it? There are so many questions and not enough answers.
I know that the kingdoms will fall, it says so in the prophecy.
Still, I can’t give up on our people when they need strength and unity.
Bringing in a new government system would upheave everything we’ve worked for over the past five hundred years to bring peace and stability to the system.
But who am I to question the will of the gods?
Sleep evades me until I decide it’s pointless and get up. I need to study the four outer planets of our kingdom, the ones closest to the Veil. One of them is the biggest planet in our kingdom, Saedn, followed by Silas, Sedgesea, and Azuris.
As I walk the halls, all I can hear is the hushed footsteps of servants and guards.
I slip into the control room where two of our officers are awake and watching the communications between quadrant movements and planets.
Five of Ateria’s planets bordering the Veil are in the middle of evacuating.
Something about Ateria still feels off. I can’t help but feel like we’re missing something big here.
According to my hourly reports though, nothing is amiss.
Inside the command center, Officer Donalen updates me while I sip on warm coffee.
King Bastian has sent a good portion of his Proto quadrant to assist with the evacuations.
Treon has ten planets along the Veil, but right now, they’re on standby.
It’s smart. No need to bring everyone in if it’s not necessary.
Mori’s burden is light—only Soren and Hespin are evacuating, their combined seventy million a drop in the bucket compared to our own.
For two hours, I obsess over maps and cargo yields.
Azuris, with its scattered islands, will be a nightmare to ferry.
Its people are as stubborn as the tides.
Silas and Sedgesea possess larger landmasses, but their populations require a week of non-stop sky-freighter rotations.
Then there is Saedn, where evacuation is impossible.
We have to turn the planet into a stronghold.
Pressure clamps onto my ribs, doubling me over.
A white-hot spike drives up my spine between my shoulder blades, wrapping around my chest until the air in my lungs feels like lead.
King Bastian warned me of this—the Aethermark acting as a tether.
It’s a warning beacon, a primal scream from my soul that I need to be with Raea.
I wave off both officers, waiting for the pain to subside. After a few minutes of calming breaths, it finally eases to a manageable level.
I get back to work, and when the sun rises, I finally fall asleep, making sure to check in with my footmen, Bo and Leif, to wake me in time for the meeting.
“I just don’t think that’s a good idea,” General Piersen, of the Terra quadrant, barks.
“Eighteen billion people, General. If we don’t hold Saedn, we lose our power cells and our hope. We evacuate the vulnerable. The rest become the shield.”
“Prince Anders.” General Piersen sighs. “I see that you’ve thought this through. What do you propose?”
I take the seat at the head of the table—my father’s seat.
The weight of it nearly crushes my ribs, but I don't flinch.
I am Okenen's future, and I will be its shield. I feel the gravity of trillions of lives in my hands at only twenty-three. I’ve hardly begun my life, yet here I am, feeling both unprepared and utterly determined.
I only hope the gods knew what they were doing.
With a deep breath, I spend the next thirty minutes walking through my plan about evacuating essential personnel, small children, mothers, and the elderly. I don’t want to break up families, but this might be the only way.
I explain where I would like to set up bases that we can fight back.
There will also be safe houses that people can reach if the war gets too bad.
Those safe houses will launch people off Saedn and scatter them among the kingdom.
We won’t have time to worry about finding their families.
For those who can’t make an evacuation, we will settle them in heavily guarded, warded compounds.
My mother nods at me from across the table. Her quiet reassurance gives me confidence to keep answering questions that are fired at me. Slowly, I know that I am winning them over.
The four commandants begin discussing where to place bases, where to ward, and I sit back and let our military do what they do best. When we break for lunch, my mother asks me to escort her out to the beach for a walk and some fresh air.
The sun is warm today despite the storm that hit earlier this morning, the sand sodden under our footsteps. My mother wraps her arm through mine, her crown glistens, shimmering like the water. I feel the peace wash over me, and I turn to her with a small, thankful smile.
The air and the water call to me, they always have, but something feels different. I need to continue practicing with the elements, now more than ever.
“I wanted to let you know about a communication that came to me this morning.” She quiets for a moment; the only sound is that of the waves crashing offshore.
Just when I'm about to ask her what it is, she continues.
“King Bastian and Queen Amaya have announced that Princess Raea will be Bonding early. In six weeks, to be exact. Three days before the first Ceremony you’re to attend.
Interesting timing, don't you agree?” She grins, her blue eyes glittering like the sea.
My heart skips a beat. Raea Bonding early would solve a lot of problems for us. I could bring her back to Malaya. I could be crowned king.
“Very interesting timing indeed,” I muse.
“Do you love her? Truly love her?” my mother asks. She leads us along the shore. Despite the salty breeze coming off the ocean, the trees surrounding the palace infuse the air with citrus.
“I do. I think I've been in love with her for a lot longer than just this year.”
She nods.
We’re quiet for a few minutes with only the crash of the waves and the seabirds crying overhead.
“It will not be easy for you two. You will need that love to remind you to choose each other in the days ahead. Your father and I were not in love when we Bonded. We eventually developed feelings for each other, but it’s not the same as choosing to love someone before.
I think that’s a stronger, deeper kind of love. Does she love you?”
I pause and look out over the glistening water. Though she’s never said the words, I know with a certainty that she does. I have felt it. Lived it. In all the tiny ways. The way she watches me. When she relaxes around me. Even her sassy banter reserved only for me.
“She does,” I answer honestly.
“Well, why don’t you go see her? You can leave this evening. Spend a few days with her. It’s important for you two to spend time together.”
“Mother, I can’t leave now. I need to be a part of these meetings. I need to be here for my kingdom.”
A genuine smile breaks across my mother's face. The hollow, haunted look that has defined her for five years has vanished, replaced by a clarity I thought was lost forever. The Butterfly Woodbine worked.
For years, I’ve carried the kingdom's grief like a stone around my neck, waiting for her to fight back. Seeing her alive again—truly alive—makes me feel like a boy again, finally allowed to set the heavy load down.
“Go to her, Anders. Nothing will change in the next few days.”
She leaves me there, her long turquoise train carving a path through the damp sand. The pain in my chest flares again, but the spike of agony is tempered by a single thought:
Tonight, I’ll be with her.