Epilogue
Loreleivnna
The Luna Wysteria and whisperbloom vines that twine through the palace gates twitch and swirl at our arrival, undoubtedly twittering their excitement to Father.
I smile and giggle along with them, glad someone’s excited for our arrival.
It’s been too long since our last visit, and I know we’re about to get an earful about it.
Svitaeryl is so beautiful during the Lunaplume Harvest Festival, and it always reminds me of the year Father demanded I honor my responsibilities as a princess. My gaze drifts toward Pikr, who’s already grinning down at me as though memories are flooding him as well.
I trail my finger along the fountain memorial, dipping into the water to feel its cool caress. You’re home, the water seems to whisper, welcome home. Traveling Eldrunna is twenty times as fun as I knew it would be, but it’s nice to be home, where all of nature recognizes me as one of their own.
The palace door slams open. Feivryn and Ilrunysanna fly down the steps, squealing as they pounce on me with a crushing embrace.
“Your Majesty,” Pikr says, dropping into a bow.
I follow his gaze to the entrance, where Father stands at the bottom of the skyrite steps. My sisters’ chattering goes quiet, and my heart beats double-time.
Seeing Father now, his features unreadable, his muscles tense as his hands are clasped behind him, I worry their friendship hasn’t recovered as much as I’d thought.
“So dramatic,” Ilrunysanna whispers.
Feivryn nudges my shoulder, draping herself over my shoulders. She grins, but I can’t return it, my attention quickly snapping back to the two most important males in my life.
Father stops inches in front of Pikr’s unbent front leg. Even so close, the height difference between elf and centaur is vast, but Father closes it with a clap to my mate’s arm.
“Rise.” Father squeezes Pikr’s bicep and gives a little shake. “That is not necessary between brothers.”
Tears swell in my eyes. I don’t bother to wipe them away before they fall, forming lacrimae lilies between the cracks in the path. My sisters exchange knowing glances, but I cannot turn away from the sight before me.
There’s a long pause before Pikr straightens, and I’ve learned him intimately enough to know he’s gathering himself. It’s safe to assume Father knows this as well, for he holds Pikr’s arm with a steady grip, only releasing when Pikr stands tall.
Their eyes meet, and I want to revel in the kinship that passes between them, but my weedling sisters ruin the moment.
“Awww, how blooming adorable,” Ilrunysanna coos.
“Are you sure Father isn’t stealing your mate?” Feivryn chimes in.
I shake them off. When I turn back, the males are already ascending the steps.
"Lystag manure,” I mutter. “Must you ruin all my fun?”
“You’re the problem child, Lorelei. Poor Mother is distraught over your distance,” Feivryn scolds.
I know she’s right. Our travels often carry us further than the fate-roots can see, so Mother can’t check up on me as often as she’d like. “I’m here now.”
“Sure,” Feivryn drawls tauntingly. “And I’m positive there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Like fucking your centaur under a tree, perhaps?”
I groan. Of course she’d be the one to inherit Father’s gift. I suppose we know who’ll run for head of the Queendom next.
I narrow my eyes. “How long have they spoken with you?”
“Don’t worry,” she whispers. “I bid them not to tell. But on one condition.” I roll my eyes, guessing what comes next. “You must tell me if you’re pregnant.”
“Please, Lei-Lei,” Ilrunysanna chimes, grabbing my free hand. “Tell us you are!”
I brush their hands away and tilt my head toward my shoulder, batting my lashes coyly.
A vivid imagining flutters through my mind, the shape of it so familiar that it almost feels like a memory for how often it visits me.
It’s so visceral, I can feel the weight of the foal in my arms, their little fairy slippers still forming hooves at the tips.
I hear their sweet sounds, a mix of elven baby coos and centaur whinnies.
It’s clear as day, and yet, I see nothing of their features–not clearly, at least.
In my heart, I know this is the meddling of the Wise Ones, gifting me a glimpse of the future. The fate-roots may not speak to me as eloquently as they do Mother, but they’ve found ways to nudge me in the right direction all my life.
“She’s brighter than usual,” Ilrunysanna observes, squinting at me. “She must be pregnant.”
“Psh,” Feivryn waves her off. “That’s because she’s freshly pollina—”
“Feivryn!” I whisper-shriek, my gaze shooting to where Father and Pikr have paused to talk a short distance ahead of us. “There’s no baby, okay?”
Feivryn narrows her eyes, but I’m not lying. Even if my vision of the foal comes true, there’s no indication of when, so whatever her silly plants are whispering to her, it’s mere gossip at this point.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Mother’s voice slices through the tension. She stands in the middle of the entryway, leaning on a blisteroak pillar for support.
“Dearest,” Father exclaims, rushing to wrap her hand around his arm.
“Bring your conversation inside, girls.” Mother accepts his help, but her unwavering gaze is on me. “I would like news of the baby as well.”
An audible gasp bounces through the room. Father’s face pales. Pikr goes utterly still. My cheeks are so hot I’m sure I look like the wine-red sequioaoak leaves littering the throne room floor.
“Mother,” I hiss. My sisters erupt with peels of laughter.
“Truly?” Father takes a half-step toward me. His color has returned, and there’s a gleam in his eyes, though the smile doesn’t reach his lips. “You’re with sapling?”
Pikr appears at my side, and I lean into his steady warmth. Funnily enough, he’s looking at me with curiosity as well.
I sigh. My secret vision is spoiled, but at least everyone appears excited.
“That hasn’t happened yet.” I resist the urge to put a hand on my belly, for how silly that would be. “But it appears the fate-roots wish me to know it will, in the future.”
“That’s wonderful, darling,” Mother breathes, one hand pressed to her bosom. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Indeed.” Father nods, clearing his throat. His gaze lands on Pikr for the first time since the baby was mentioned. “Wonderful news.”
“What news?” Ilrunysanna tosses her hands in the air. “There is no blooming news!”
“Maybe they told me so that I could practice patience with you daft fools.” I scowl around the room. “This family could certainly use some patience.”
Mother gives me a pitying look, though I don’t think she’s the least bit sorry.
That’s all right. I glance at Pikr, who’s smiling down at me. Whenever our foal arrives, be it next year or next century, they will be loved so deeply by this nosy family.