Chapter Eleven
Eleven
Kamari
Kamari drifted through the Citadel like a ghost, a beaten down apparition of her former self. She used to be fun, she recalled. She used to enjoy life and all it had to offer.
She used to have hope. Hope for the changes she and Desmond would make.
Hope for a future full of love and passion.
Her mother always said she was her romantic child.
Daydreaming of a world that knew peace before war and for a long time, she thought it was a complement.
To find beauty in the midst of pain. Find hope despite despair.
Now, it seemed the well of hope she thought once to be endless had dried up.
Meetings with the council, preparations for Naming Day, all loomed over her shoulder like a rising storm. She could only stall for so long before she’d need to address Desmond’s disappearance. She just needed more time to find something, anything, to give her hope, to give the people hope.
She flipped aimlessly through one of Desmond’s journals, pausing on a page to trace her finger over his handwriting. The swoopy ‘y’s and short ‘t’s.
Words were scribbled at the edge of the page. Some circled several times. Others underlined so hard he broke through the paper. She still had no idea what most of them meant, but every time her eye caught a particular word, her stomach plummeted.
Dragon.
She circled the word with her finger. This time, the passage was written so small she had to squint to make it out.
“...to find where they dwell would be our refuge, a way to reconcile the marks we’ve left on our country. Our world. They are not bringers of doom, but the hope of life.”
Passage after passage was more of the same. Dragons. Ravki. And with each entry she read, she knew she would have to keep the journals hidden. Away from any wandering eyes. To speak of dragons as the creators of life, and not Celestria, was a crime fit for death. “What were you up to, Desmond?”
She thought she’d come to know her husband well over the last year, but if he was able to keep his belief in dragons a secret, what else was he hiding?
A knock at the door had her slamming the journal shut. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath. She had made a mess of Desmond’s office. Journals, ripped parchment, old cups of tea, all scattered about his desk.
“Your Majesty?”
“Just a moment.” Kamari shoved the journals into the desk and slammed the drawer shut. Sliding off her necklace, she locked each drawer with the tiny key before placing it back around her neck. “Come in.”
“Sorry, Majesty.” Nev stepped in, her eyes instinctively scanning the space. “I know you don’t like being interrupted when you’re in here.” There was a twinge of sorrow in Nev’s voice, maybe pity, but Kamari pushed it aside. “Lord Raffe has requested to see you.”
“Oh?” Kamari sat at Desmond’s desk, hiding the tremble of her hands by placing them in her lap. “Did he say what was so important?”
Nev shook her head. “He’s in the temple, but I can tell him now isn’t a good time.”
Kamari had dismissed Raffe the last several days. She had no interest in seeing him, no interest in pretending there would ever be a future with him on the throne by her side.
But even if she wanted nothing more than to pack his bags and throw him over the wall, leaving him for the monsters in the desert, there was the small issue of appearance.
And of all the things Kamari had been taught growing up; language, arts, perfecting a proper curtsey, maintaining appearance was favored above all else.
“I’ll see him,” she said, unclenching her fingers from her lap. It’s what a queen should do, she thought to herself.
Nev gave her a pointed look. Her dark red hair was styled tightly in a braid, her onyx armor seemed to be glued to her body, though when she moved it was fluid and with grace. “I’ll escort you.”
“I think I can find my way to the temple alone.”
“You could.” Nev held out her arm. “But then I would be disobeying my Commander’s orders.” She leaned in close. “And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s a rather distasteful thing to be on her bad side.”
Kamari snickered a laugh and took Nev’s arm. It felt ridiculous being escorted in her own home, but with the uncertainty surrounding Desmond’s disappearance, she couldn’t be too careful.
As promised, Raffe was waiting in the temple. He stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning against one of the columns that lined the massive room. “I’ll be right outside,” Nev said.
Kamari nodded before she bowed at the temple's entrance. The long skirts of her rich brown chiffon dress pooled around her. She placed her hands on the stone floor, the gold cuffs on her wrists clinking together, as she closed her eyes and offered a prayer.
“Celestria, Goddess of All,” she whispered, “I enter your temple as your servant. May you continue to bless Vargah”— She paused, flipping her eyes up to see Raffe watching her—“and Novaria with your generosity.” When she rose to her feet, she adjusted the slender gold crown that sat across her hairline and smoothed her dress. “Lord Raffe.”
“My queen.” He bent his middle, offering a deep bow. “Walk with me.” He held out his arm and, with appearances in mind, Kamari took it.
Other than the library, the temple was Kamari’s favorite place in Vargah. Though, it’d been some time since she visited.
The large bronze columns and grand arched doorways were a perfect structure for the seemingly endless, domed roof. Pillars were adorned with stars and crescent moons to honor Celestria. Intricate filigree was etched around every arch, every paver they walked on.
No expense was spared by past rulers, Desmond had told her once, to create a place of worship for the Goddess of All.
“I wanted to apologize,” Raffe said. Kamari’s eyes must have bulged because when he glanced at her, he laughed. “Not what you were expecting?”
They strode down the center of the temple, passing a few abandoned altars with half melted candles and dried flowers. “I didn’t know what to expect,” she answered honestly.
“With my cousin's disappearance, tensions are high, as you already know. My family insisted I come immediately when we heard that Desmond left and it was their pressure that drove me to be so…”
“Brash?”
Raffe glanced at her and smiled. “Exactly. I didn’t go about this the right way, and I’m sorry.”
An inkling of warmth spread through Kamari's chest. She still had no intentions of marrying Raffe, but if they could co-exist for the next few weeks until Aesira and Stone returned with Desmond, life would be much simpler. An apology on his part was a start.
“I appreciate the apology.”
They stopped at the back of the temple where an intricately painted mural spanned the entirety of the wall.
This one portrayed Celestria as a woman, her deep red hair was fanned around her, tiny stars dotted into the loose waves.
Droplets of water were painted falling over her, dripping down her face and bare chest. Her eyes and lips were closed, hands held up, palms open.
Inside one palm rested the moon and the other–a bright, purple flower.
Astra.
The life-blood of their kingdom.
The most powerful gift a goddess could give and the Goddess chose to give it to them.
It struck her then the severity of Desmond’s journals.
Of his claims that dragons were a refuge and not Celestria.
Her stomach clenched and without thinking, she gripped Raffe’s arm tighter.
His hand slid across the top of hers and the sudden contact of the warmth took her breath away.
“There are two ways we can go about this,” Raffe said.
“We continue as we are, despising the situation we’ve been put in.
Or…” His fingers wrapped around hers and the grief she’d buried deep about Desmond leaving came rushing up her throat.
It ached and burned when she swallowed. “We can come to an agreement together.”
“What kind of agreement?” Kamari worked the words around the knot in her throat.
Raffe slid his hand from hers. “The council has given you a month,” he said. “After that, the treaty will be nullified and Novaria and Vargah will be right back where they were a year ago. At war. I don’t know you well, Your Majesty, but I can’t imagine that’s a future you want to see.”
She shook her head, glancing again at the mural of Celestria.
The Goddess had blessed Vargah with so much and left places like Novaria and the Outpost behind. If it weren’t for Piscis Spring, Novaria would cease to exist. The water the spring provided had kept their small kingdom alive and running but it also brought them so much death.
Greed would do that, she supposed. It could make men like Desmond’s father turn a blind eye on what is right and only see what they want to see. What they think is theirs.
“So, I have a new proposal," Raffe said. "One that involves just you and me.”
She tore her eyes away from the mural and looked up at him. “And that is?”
Raffe ran a hand through his dark hair. His linen pants and matching red tunic were bold against the muted bronze of the temple and when he turned his head to a certain angle, she could see the similarities he shared with Desmond.
The dark hair and brows. The strong nose.
“After a month, if Desmond doesn’t how, you accept my marriage proposal–”
“I–”
“Let me finish.” His hand found hers again, smooth and gentle. “You accept my proposal, but you continue your search. We make the council see that Vargah and Novaria are still aligned, the treaty is still intact, that war is unnecessary. But between you and I, that’s all it will be. A show.”
“An appearance of unity,” she said under her breath.
“Exactly.”
She let the thought mull over as they walked back through the temple. The stained glass of the domed room cut distorted shadows across the stone floor. “And what if Desmond shows? What if he comes home?”