Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Soria weaves her fingers through my hair, the quiet ritual helping soothe us both after the past few days of frustration. The idea of training seemed appropriate at the time, but each failed effort seems to take us even farther from our goal.
I have had faint flickers much like the motion in Ace’s wine glass before he dropped it to the floor, yet each time I seem to touch upon the magic, I lose it the moment I become aware.
Ace continues to check if he can harness any himself.
Vale continues to lose his patience with every attempt.
Soria, however, surprised me. I caught her fingers trickling along a line of creeping ivy, and I am certain she was checking for herself if there might be a glimmer of magic available to them all.
So far, the only embers seem to be within me.
The braid now tied in place, hanging heavy across my back, Soria rests her palms on my shoulders and looks at me through the mirror. “Don’t force it, dear. Things happen when they are meant to. Rarely ever before then.” I smile back at her, and she is on her way.
Vale rose early. He wanted to talk to the staff and get things settled.
We’ve resumed at least our evening meal in the formal dining room.
Our will to train seems to fade as surely as the afternoon each day.
The nearness of others when we share our meal forces us to talk about anything other than magic. A respite we all seem to need.
The shift helps me shed some of the pressure I seem to carry with me now as well.
By the time Vale holds me in his arms each night, I can almost forget and just get lost in him.
Almost, but not quite. I tend to distract myself with some menial task when he lights the fire, fussing over the coverlet when he strikes the tinderbox.
I still feel unsettled after that uncontrollable spread of flame.
It may have been relegated to lanterns, candles, and hearths, but it was far more unpredictable than I am comfortable with.
Rising from the vanity, my robe still knotted snugly around me, Vale enters the room as I begin to reach for the muted day dress I am about to put on.
“Not today, my flame,” he says, crossing the room toward me.
I pause, unsure if I’ve made some misstep this early in the day.
He reaches across me and into a trunk. Digging deep, he pulls out not just riding leathers, but the ones I was wearing when I first arrived in Caerhollan. I haven’t seen them since that fateful night. They’ve been mended and cleaned. “This is more fitting for what I have in mind.”
I throw my arms around him, the garments tumbling to the floor. Whatever is in store, I welcome it. “Thank you,” I murmur into his chest. The care, the thought, the reminder of me—more than the queen I am becoming, more than the woman I used to be—all of me.
He strokes at my hair, and I know without a doubt he always has and always will hold all of me.
Looking up at him, the light shines behind his weary eyes.
It has been a challenging week for us all.
An exhausting season. Our smiles break before they fully form. Still so fragile, but never truly gone.
I rise up on my toes, bare feet cold against the wood floor just beyond the reach of the ornate rugs that fill each room.
Pressing my lips to his, our mouths part, tongues delicately reaching for each other.
We still claim each other with passion each night, though it seems the moments of tender care like this mean even more—the way we always reach for and hold each other.
Renewed energy blooms in my chest as I pull on the leathers. A new, supple shine from the care placed into them seems to be catching. My fingers trace the lines of recently added embellishments, the style and lines of the embossing clearly tying the garments to Caerhollan.
“I hope it’s all right. I asked them to add those,” Vale says softly.
“It’s perfect. Fitting.” My smile comes more easily now—falters less.
I expect him to lead me through the gardens, but we venture instead toward the stables and armory. Guards halt as they polish weapons in the yard when they see us, ever vigilant to our movements.
Tension falls from my shoulders when I see Bracken already tacked and waiting for us. He lets out a neigh that moves the air. I think he missed me too.
“We haven’t been out since…” Vale pauses to see if anything is within earshot.
“The branch,” I finish the sentiment, and it seems so funny having to be quiet about seemingly trivial words.
But I get it. Even if they don’t make sense, that alone could lead someone to question.
All the more reason to take our leave from the manor today.
I know there are guards throughout the hills and peaks that hold the valley.
We will never be too far from safety nor from watchful eyes.
Perhaps, though, we can be far enough away from the threat of discovery for peace.
We set out on Bracken. Vale keeps one arm wrapped tightly around me, the other slightly guiding the stallion where to go. We do not break into a full stride, though part of me longs to—to feel the air across my cheeks in a way that only happens at a gallop.
I lean back into Vale’s chest, willing myself to relax into the morning. Into him.
He moves farther across the meadow where the forest becomes more dense. Now nestled within the privacy of the trees, we dismount. Holding hands with Bracken being led just behind, we wander.
“Gods, this feels good.” I breathe in the earthy aroma, and quiet finds its place in my mind. “No books, no tests, just… this.”
I lean into Vale’s arm. I do not allow myself to get so caught up that I rush ahead as I did the last time we were out. I do not fear venturing on my own. I do not fear the way magic may find me. I just want to relax for a moment and be.
We walk for a long while, beams of light shifting their angles as the sun moves higher in the sky. It’s already becoming warm enough that our cloaks are no longer needed.
Approaching a small pool, we rest. Bracken is tied to a tree, and I sit among the rocks. Water pours down from high above, tumbling across jutting stone to fill the reflective pool before flowing into the stream beyond.
It’s so peaceful.
Vale is watching me when at last I turn to him. Still patting at the horse’s coat, he watches only me.
“I’ve always loved that about you,” he says with a sweetened wonder.
“And that is what, husband?” I respond playfully.
“Whether you’re somewhere new or a place you’ve wandered a hundred times, you always savor it. I know this isn’t just a waterfall to you.” He walks over to me and I stand to meet him.
“And you are not just a man.” I wrap my arms low around his waist.
“More than just a king. It’s been years since anyone has looked at me like that. So many just see the crown. But you…” He brushes at my cheek.
“To be fair, I did not know you were a king when I met you.”
“No, I was just a broken man in a pile of blood upending your entire life.” We both laugh at it, though the memory carries so much along with it.
“Has it really only been a few months since that night?” I rub at my arms. My cloak now rests across Bracken’s saddle. The summer day is bringing warmth, but the thought of how few seasons have passed sends a chill.
“Time feels different to me, I suppose. To me, I waited an eternity to find you, Mira. Once I did, I knew I would never let go.”
I move into his arms more. “So it wasn’t rushed?” Fear mixes in even when I know the truth in my heart.
“Not for me, no. I knew it so many times and in so many ways. Mira—it was always you.” He pulls back so I can see the sincerity in his words, then concern takes its place. “Did I rush you? Did I push you into things you weren’t ready for?”
I turn my head into his hand, nuzzling it with affection before looking intently as I answer.
“I could have had a hundred years and still never be truly ready to be queen,” I laugh.
“But for loving you, for becoming your wife…” I reach up and brush along his jaw.
His beard is rough beneath my touch, growing out more in the time we have been here.
“I never knew how much I needed you until I met you, Vale. I love you more than anything—more than everything.”
He lifts me up, my legs wrapping around him on instinct.
He holds me there, our lips locked, answering any question that may linger between us.
Before he sets me down, though, he asks one more in jest. “So I should check back on this whole queen thing in a hundred years? See how you’re doing with it? ”
I push at his chest, but he only tightens his grip. He doesn’t let go. He doesn’t set me down—not for a long while—until I finally loosen my legs and allow my feet to settle back into the earth.
Vale fetches a blanket that had been rolled at the back of the saddle and lays it across a large flat stone. We lie there, sun breaking through the canopy’s opening and bathing us in its heat.
“I really needed this,” I tell him, lying on our backs, fingers intertwined.
“I know.” Our breathing syncs with each other, steady and slow.
I nearly drift to sleep, the wind, water, and birdsong my favorite lullaby.
But that’s when I notice it. Something else.
It’s beautiful. Strange and new. Like a far-off symphony.
It’s not music. I am not even sure it is sound.
I hear it, though. Feel it too. Off-kilter notes that somehow form a melody.
A tree rustles in the distance. An animal moves.
The stream carries on as it always has. And then this.
My eyes flutter open. I sit up slowly. So slowly.
Afraid I will lose it the moment I reach for it again.
My heart seems to slip open. A new ache—longing for something it begs to grab hold of.
I inhale slowly. A lark calls from above, and I look at it.
Somehow my eyes find it in an instant. It seems to shimmer in the sun.
Not its feathers. The cream tufts, brown flank, and even golden face are nothing compared to the brilliant gleam around it.
It is as if I can see its very essence. It lets out another call, and I see that too. I can see its song. I begin to shake.
Vale still rests beside me. I do not reach for him.
Eyes closed, to him, we are still basking in the serenity of morning.
Yet for me, the whole world seems new. I look to the waterfall.
Mist carries through the air, catching light in prismatic hues as it always has, but now I feel it.
I feel the surge as it crashes down. I feel the way minuscule bits, smaller than a drop, rise from the impact.
I feel its flow. Its energy. It breathes.
I feel its life. It’s magic.
I move slowly. I do not want to startle. Myself? The forces around me? I cannot tell where I end and they begin. I merely sit there, bearing witness to it all.
A lone tear falls down my cheek, and I feel that too—more than the cool touch as it cascades down, but the beauty and pain behind every fallen tear. Blinking before more can join, I am awestruck.
My hand reaches beyond the blanket’s edge. The stone is rigid and cold, yet… I feel its pulse. The very heartbeat of the earth itself. All seem to be waking as if to greet me.
No.
I am the one who has been awakened.
Whatever ember burst into flame the night of the solstice glows warm and bright within me now. My heart, which felt so broken open with want, now feels overwhelmingly full. The beauty of it. The staggering, overwhelming beauty.
I cannot keep it to myself for a moment longer.
“Vale.” I reach for him, my voice barely above a whisper.
He shifts lightly, rising on one elbow and leaning in on his side toward me.
His hand rubs my thigh. I do not look at him yet.
The physical touch is the tether I needed, though I am not yet ready to let go of the magic I have just touched.
“I think I get it now.” My voice trembles.
There is no use fighting back the tears now. They fall. Slow and sure. I do not weep, nor do I brush them away. Each one breaking free from me like an oath. Each an offering.
“I think I found the magic.”