Chapter 37
LYRA
He would be here any moment.
Although the others were gathered in the Celestial Hall for a private meal—Nerys, Rowan, Issa, and Marek having arrived the day before—I could not wait for him there.
Our reunion would not be public. There was little chance I could restrain myself from embracing him, these weeks apart telling me more than even the days we were together.
I would live without him if I must, but if Terran willed it, I would prefer otherwise.
With him, I could be myself. He made me feel as no one ever had before him.
I loved him, and he loved me, though we both recognized that might not be enough.
Taking an Aetherian partner, while he attempted to convince his clan decades of strife between Gyoria and the other clans should now be reversed…
it would be no small matter. Which is likely why he’d not suggested it.
But I’d not have Terran leave, once again, without at least discussing the possibility.
When the sound of hooves, not an unusual one in the palace courtyard, reached me, I knew it was him. There was something about the urgency behind their steady clapping… and just as I suspected, he appeared over the ridge.
Rising like one of Nerys’s great waves she summons, his form seemed to fill the entire landscape, Aethralis’s mountain and building peaks behind him not nearly as magnificent as the Gyorian warrior racing toward me.
There were few in the courtyard during mealtime, but enough to bear witness. Indeed, as Terran’s great mount skidded to a stop beside me, his companions began to appear, though in not as spectacular a fashion.
Dismounting with surprising nimbleness, Terran wasted little time in grabbing me—as was his custom—and pulling me toward him.
There, with his contingency as witness, Terran kissed me with little reserve.
His hand clamped down on the back of my neck, not that I’d planned on going anywhere. I wanted this kiss as much as him.
When he tore his lips from mine, his small smile disarmed any parts of me that remained reserved. I smiled back broadly.
“Welcome to Aethralis.”
“Do you welcome every honored guest in such a way?” he teased.
“Only Gyorian kings,” I teased back.
“Hmm. Then I will be certain to hold onto my title.”
“Your men are watching us,” I whispered.
“Let them watch. Lyra, we—”
“What took you so long?”
I jumped back at Kael’s voice from behind us.
Terran chuckled… actually chuckled. I stared at him, trying to imagine such a sound from him at any other time from the Terran I once knew.
“You know well,” Terran said, embracing his brother, “I could not have come any faster. They”—he waved to indicate his companions—“were little pleased with our pace.”
“They will recover,” Kael said. Taking charge, he delegated Terran’s companions and their mounts to be taken care of before leading Terran into the palace.
“Lyra can tell you what she discovered.”
“It was not me alone,” I insisted, “but Mev and I together.”
It wasn’t until we entered the Celestial Hall that Kael picked back up the conversation, not wanting the details to be overheard. Meanwhile, I said little, allowing the brothers to catch up as we made our way through the palace.
After a proper welcome which included Galfrid insisting Terran drop his title, a rare honor that marked Terran as part of the inner circle here in Aethralis, Kael asked me to tell the story.
Terran sat in the only empty chair, beside his brother, so I leaned in toward the table to share what had happened.
“Mev”—I gestured to the princess who sat next to me, on Kael’s left—“and I spent days staring at scraps of parchment with all we knew of the Gate’s opening. Repeating words and phrases, under Galfrid’s oversight.”
“They were tenacious,” the king said proudly.
Our Thalassari guests, and their human companions, Rowan and Issa, remained silent. They’d heard the story the evening before.
“It was something you said that wasn’t on those parchments that became an important clue for us.”
“Me?” Terran was clearly surprised.
“My father’s hatred of the humans broke Elydor’s balance more than any blade.”
Terran glanced at Kael. “A truth I should have realized sooner.”
“We should have realized sooner.” Kael would not let Terran carry the burden of their father’s legacy alone, and from his expression, I could sense Terran appreciated it.
“When I put it into context with all the others, and Mev’s persistence in having us remember that relics remember wounds, it came to me.”
Heart hammering, praying the revelation was our missing piece, I continued. “Humans are the key.”
At Terran’s confused look, I added, “To opening the Gate. There were three clans the first time he”—I waved a hand toward the king—“opened the portal to the human realm. All three relics were needed as a way to signal the clan’s acceptance of such an act. But there are no longer three clans.”
“There are four,” Issa finished. “Something we’ve continued to remind even those who accept us.”
“Full acceptance,” Rowan said, “means recognizing Estmere not just as a kingdom of Elydor, but as one of its clans.”
The distinction wasn’t lost on anyone present in the chamber.
“Estmere,” Terran said. “One of Elydor’s four clans.”
I held my breath. Terran was the last to accept the humans. To let go of his hate toward them.
“We need their artifact.”
He understood. Even more, seemed to accept it. Accept them.
All eyes turned to Rowan.
“Of course,” I added, “this was merely speculation. Until we whispered to Queen Nerys and were able to communicate with Rowan.”
“How does he factor into this? And what is Estmere’s artifact? Do they even have one?”
Terran was the only one in the chamber who didn’t know yet. But he was about to find out.
“Aye,” Rowan said. “It’s me.”