Epilogue
Liana
The white stag stood in the middle the road. Plumes of milky vapor rose from its nostrils, while the dawn light wrapped the magnificent animal in a luminous cloud.
It was Liana’s turn to keep her side of the bargain, and join Lela.
“Snijeg.” Liana approached and stroked its silken coat. “Old friend. None of this is your fault.”
The beautiful animal nuzzled her cheek.
“Take me to my mother.”
She climbed on its broad back and Snijeg broke into a canter, Liana gripping its antlers. The air around her thickened like molasses, resisting her body, pushing back as they gained speed.
“Snijeg, what—”
The stag leaped. Liana crashed into something hard, the impact throwing her off Snijeg’s back.
She cried in pain and surprise as she hit the ground.
“Snijeg?” she called.
The stag had vanished. In vain, Liana tried to follow, to pull aside the curtain between the worlds. Her fingers found nothing but air.
“Pathetic.” Her mother stepped through a wisp of fog. “You’re not five anymore, you know how to cross.”
“I can’t.” As the words slipped out of her mouth, the realization hit Liana and she burst out laughing. “I really can’t.”
“You stubborn, willful girl, what are you playing at?”
The expression on Lela’s face only increased Liana’s frantic mirth. “Look at me, Mother. I’m mortal. Completely, irrevocably mortal.”
“Impossible,” Lela snapped.
“Ask Morana.”
Lela opened her mouth, doubtlessly to hurl another insult at her, but then her divine eyes recognized the truth, and disgust twisted her features. “You could’ve lived forever, and you threw it all away for a man. You’ll curse that choice once you grow old and sick.”
“Always so kind to me, Mother.” Liana laughed so hard tears ran down her face. Or perhaps the tears had nothing to do with the laughter. “If I never see you again, it will be too soon.”
With a look of cold repulsion on her face, the goddess disappeared, leaving nothing but a cloud of silver vapor behind her. Liana was left sitting on the empty road.
Behind her, the deep, clear sound of the bell pierced the silence. The Fat Odo above Abia’s Northern gate was striking the hour of dawn. She took a deep breath, and a splitting headache bloomed between her temples.
She had no divine blood left.
She rose slowly, expecting her body to fall apart, but it turned out that being mortal didn’t feel much different from being half divine.
If she’d lost her speed and stamina, she couldn’t tell by standing up and rubbing her bruised shoulder.
Her eyesight was still good, her teeth were all in her mouth.
She checked her hands, they looked the same—long fingers, short nails, archery calluses.
She touched her face, tracing the salty residue of tears.
Without a mirror, it was hard to determine if she looked any older.
Her skin was taut, smooth under her fingers.
“You’ve chosen a fine moment to become vain,” she muttered.
She was filthy, still wearing the same guard uniform she’d spent the last two days in, sprayed with blood and smudged with mud and soot.
As the sun rose over Abia, the first travelers and carts started moving in and out of the city, the traffic slow but picking up. She stood at the edge of the road, wondering what she was supposed to do.
No divine gaze to lay on her shoulders like a cold burden, no expectations, no scheming. She was utterly unimportant now, free to go wherever she pleased, do whatever she wanted with the rest of her life.
She threw one last look at Abia. The familiar walls looked welcoming, pulling her home. The guards at the gate, chatting with the people, the archers patrolling the walls, the standard flying above their heads.
Liana gasped as sunlight illuminated the standard. The golden sun of the royal house and the silver fish of Larion. There was just one person in the whole world allowed to fly it. Had they forgotten to remove it? No, that was unthinkable.
When was she?
Liana rushed towards the gate. The guards frowned at her appearance, but the royal uniform apparently still meant something, because one of them asked, “Do you need help, sister?”
It would have been so easy if she could just ask who ruled the city, but they’d think her mad. She said, “No, thank you,” and rushed into Abia.
The streets looked almost the same as she remembered them—the houses, the courtyards, the gardens—but something felt different.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it until she went deeper towards the center and saw there were more shops, more taverns.
It looked busier, richer, the houses all brushed up, the streets spotless.
Like a drawing of Abia where some imaginative artist had added a bit of shine to make it prettier.
She walked into a tavern she didn’t know, but which looked busy even at this early hour.
The tables were occupied by merchants and tradesmen drinking beer and eating hot pies whose smell made Liana’s stomach grumble.
She reached into her pocket and found a handful of silver coins, more than enough for a pie and a drink. She waved over a passing girl.
“A pie and a beer, please.”
The girl took in her appearance and frowned.
“I can pay.” Liana took a silver coin and pushed it into the girl’s hand.
When her food and drink arrived, Liana caught the girl’s wrist. “Wait, please. I’ve been away for a long time, I need you to tell me a few things about Abia.”
“I’m in a hurry,” the girl protested until she saw another coin in Liana’s hand. “What do you need?”
“I want to know how happy you are with the ruler of this town.”
The girl lifted her eyebrows, obviously thinking Liana was pulling her leg. “I don’t think about that,” she said.
“Humor me. What do you think about your lord?”
“Prince Amron, you mean? He’s good, I guess.” The girl shrugged, eager to get away.
Liana’s heart stopped in her chest. The standard and the name—it was too much to be a coincidence.
“And Prince Amron, he is the king’s…?”
“Brother,” the girl said. “Of course.”
“Ah yes. King Amril and Queen Aratea, right? How long has he been on the throne?”
“Seventeen years. I was born on the day of his coronation.” The girl shot her a gap-toothed grin as someone called for more beer. “Look, I must work. If you want to talk, I can call the tavern keeper.”
“Just one more question, please. Prince Amron, is he married?”
The girl shook her head. “He’s a widower.” And then she pulled her hand from Liana’s grip and dashed away.
Seventeen years.
Liana suppressed the urge to run straight to the palace and shout his name in the courtyard.
Seventeen years since Amril’s coronation, seventeen years since his father’s death.
Which meant the year was 361 and she was right back where—when—she’d left.
Except, Amril was on the throne, and Aratea with him, which meant the war with the Empire had never happened.
She crumbled the steaming pie crust on her plate, trying hard not to cry in a tavern.
They did it, they stopped the war. The years of fighting, of death and destruction, never happened.
No wonder Abia looked so prosperous. History had taken a different turn, and seventeen years later, this was a different world.
A world where Amron ruled Abia in peace, where he didn’t have to run errands for his royal nephew and hold the broken kingdom together for him.
A world where the king never sent him on a doomed errand, a world where he hadn’t died.
Her hands shook as she stuffed the food in her mouth, focusing on chewing, swallowing, breathing. Not crying, definitely not crying.
Hope was the most dangerous, the most cruel of all feelings, and she didn’t dare, she didn’t dare…
Liana finished her meal, leaning on the table like a drunken sailor. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy, her legs had forgotten how to walk.
He was alive, and close, and all she had to do was…what?
Would he even remember her? He’d known her for three days, three confused, catastrophic, traumatic days. It would be no wonder if he’d deliberately forgotten them.
She rose and stumbled into the street.
This Amron was not the same Amron she’d known, that was certain.
His life had been dramatically different—seventeen years of different choices, different events, different people.
Seventeen years without her. No historical turmoil to erase rank and throw them together, no years of hardship to bring them close. Would he even like her?
You didn’t come this far to run away like a coward. Face him and find out.
Outside, the town was in full morning rush. The scent of warm bread wafted from the bakeries as women hurried with baskets filled with fruit and vegetables and young men lingered in squares, gossiping and teasing the maids who filled their jugs at the fountains.
There must have been a Liana-shaped hole in Amron’s life.
Who’d filled it? Some accomplished noblewoman who read poetry in bed and kept his high visitors amused?
Some clever courtesan who kissed him hard and kept him awake in the long winter nights?
Some random girl he fell in love with simply because she was there?
Men had it so much easier. They could duel their opponents and no one would bat an eyelid. What could women do? Poison them?
As she rushed towards the palace, Liana’s fingers itched with the need to strangle this entirely imaginary woman who shared Amron’s life.
She went in through the main gate—enough people were crowded there that even her blood-spattered uniform attracted no attention.
In the courtyard, she veered away from the entrance to the great hall and turned towards the stables instead.
She considered going down to the basement, scrubbing up quickly, making herself presentable, but so much time had been wasted, she could not waste a moment more.
What was the point of a pretty dress if he didn’t care about the person wearing it?