Chapter Twenty Two
Vonetta
We wake early to a knock on the door of our inner chamber.
The sunlight that shimmers in through the sheer curtains reaches the edges of our massive bed.
Chiron rises first, moving swiftly to stand and tighten the thin strings of his loose night pants.
He looks divine even to my sleepy eyes. The way they are almost sheer sends a thrill through me as I can see the hard outline of his morning erection very clearly.
He looks from Wren to me, and then down to himself.
A wide, smug grin spreads across his still sleepy face.
“None of that, you two…” He says, with a wink.
I turn back to Wren, who is equally as enraptured with Chiron’s body as I am. His cheeks are pink from being called out so, but he does not hide his lust from us. This version of Wren, who wants so openly? It is my favorite thus far.
I right my shift and sit up on the bed. Wren too sits up as the door swings open and our attendants come in.
Jessah strides into the room, excitement written on her face to see us here in the palace.
They all bow or curtsy and greet us. I learn now that Chiron’s man is named John, and Wren’s is Argos. John has served Chiron for several years, but Argos is new to the royal house.
Jessah and I greet one another with a fierce hug. I must admit that I quite missed her presence, even if it has been merely days since I saw her.
“My Lady, you look so happy. I was told that you took a wound on the mountain. Are you alright?” The concern that laces her voice is not unnoticed, and it stirs feelings of homesickness in me that I think I will never fully be free of.
“I am well, I promise. The healers have cleaned and bandaged them well, though I would like to greet the King and Queen without bandages if I can. I have missed you, Jessah,” I say to her, my hands on her forearms and looking into her young face.
“Let me show you your things, Lady. Surely we have paints that we can use to cover an abrasion. We must make ready, the Queen is looking forward to greeting you very much. I have missed you, Netta.”
Jessah leads me out of the bedchamber, but not to the small washroom off of it.
That is for Wren and Chiron, she tells me as we walk into the great room from last night and pass through another doorway into perhaps the grandest washroom that could exist. There is a beautiful, ornate dressing table and an even larger wardrobe in this room.
It is filled floor to ceiling with gowns, jewels, and shoes.
I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of clothing that exists here. On the table sits every manner of brush and hairpin I could imagine. Paints, in all shades of coals and rouges, sit in small pans there. I am skeptical of this, much to the dismay of Jessah.
“Lady, I promise, we will not overdo it. I understand that you prefer minimal adornment. You will be happy with the results.” I resolve to trust Jessah with this, as she has not yet steered me wrong.
The first thing I do is enter the bath, where it is already steaming and ready for me.
Unlike the tub in the cabin of Nerine, this one seems to be built into the floor of the large room.
It is stone instead of metal, and swirling patterns make it a sight to behold.
Jessah washes my hair for me; the scented soaps give off an aroma that is both earthy and refined, reminding me of something the Lady of the Isle might use.
After I have scrubbed all the dirt and grime from my skin, Jessah wraps me in a robe so thick and soft that I think I do not ever wish to leave it.
I'm sitting at the dressing table, and she works a bone tooth comb through my long black hair, coiling it with the end and letting it fall in waves down my back. She braids two pieces from the front and pins them behind my head. A simple style, but one I approve of immensely.
She inspects my healing injury before deciding on a color to paint over it.
It is still slightly tender to the touch, but her delicate workings do not bother me much.
She then covers that with a different shade, one that is nearly white, but with a hint of pink.
She brushes at my face endlessly, but when I finally take the mirror she hands to me, I see that she has simply refined the features I already have.
Without knowing what I look like, you would not think I wore paint at all. She has hidden my wound beautifully. If not for the raised bump on my temple, I could not tell it was even there. Whatever artistry Jessah has done to me, I am pleased beyond measure.
She brings me a dark gown, so dark it is nearly black.
It has beautiful silver embroidery along every hem and sleeve.
The neckline is square, perhaps the most revealing one I have ever been adorned in.
But it hugs every deep curve down to my hips, where it flares out, all the way down to my feet.
I am a tall woman, standing at least two hand widths above most others, but the gown makes me feel delicate and regal.
Jessah offers me more dainty slippers, but I decline them.
“I cannot stomach these shoes, Jessah. They feel no better to me than being barefoot. My shoes will be hidden, and I will take my boots, please.” She looks incredibly dismayed by my decisions, but she does not argue it.
When I am laced and ready, I pick out one necklace from the wide array of jewelry in the wardrobe.
An amber pendant on a thin, silver chain that is shaped like a teardrop.
I return to my husbands, who have also been bathed and fitted in rich clothing.
Wren looks incredible but uneasy in his fine emerald tunic and black coat with silver accents similar to my own.
His face has been shaved clean of the scruff that had grown there, but his hair falls neatly, trimmed slightly, and brushed into submission for our introductions to the King and Queen.
He looks truly like the scholar today, and a prince in his own right.
Chiron too, looks impeccable. He is dressed in deep reds and blacks, though he has many more adornments than either Wren or me.
He has a silver chain around his neck and a silver hoop cuffed onto his ear.
His dark hair falls effortlessly back, as if he had just run his fingers through it and it landed gracefully.
Together, the three of us look unmistakably matched. Whether this was an aesthetic choice by our attendants or purely coincidence, I do not know.
Wren and Chiron stop to look me over, eyes moving from my hair to my face…and down. Heat rises in me at their attention. They both make their way to me, and I am quickly surrounded by the heady scents of two very tall and very interested men. My husbands.
“You look breathtaking, Vonetta,” Wren says, bringing my hand to his lips.
Chiron dips his face to me, speaking directly into my ear. “Good enough to eat, I’d say.”
I flush immediately, recalling images of the night under the mountain.
“You both look very fine. Are we ready?”
Wren and Chiron both sigh, backing away from me a step and resigning themselves to the event at hand, our introductions to Chiron’s family.
With a final once-over from Jessah, we assemble between a team of ornately dressed guards.
We travel down wide hallways and staircases, passing both open and closed doorways.
People stop to stare at us, and every person bows.
Chiron handles all of the attention with his charms, smiling at one person or nodding respectfully to another.
Wren’s eyes remain forward, stately but detached from the gawking.
I did not feel the anxieties of this grand occasion until now. Of all of the trials we have been through over the last several weeks, this is the one I did not give thought to…until now.
A steady hand lands on my lower back, Chiron's.
“Deep breaths, Netta. They will love you.” He whispers, maintaining his Princely air to the passerby.
I try to draw a deep breath into my lungs; it is shaky, but I manage it.
I will not have it be known that I panicked about meeting Chiron’s parents.
Gods alive, I am a sister of the Isle of Naedra, chosen of the Land. I will not falter here.
I focus on my steps, keeping them steady and my face up.
We make it down the final set of steps and into an incredibly large foyer.
The walls go up several stories, and I can see the land beyond the castle.
We are led still farther, down another endless hallway.
Portraits line the walls here of regal men and women.
Landscapes too. I wish to be able to stop and look at them all, but our party moves onward still.
When we finally make it to a grand entrance, I am incredibly grateful I declined the flimsy slippers Jessah had set aside for me. This palace feels larger than the Isle of Women for how long we have traveled to get here.
A loud knock sounds on the grand wooden doors. I am unsurprised to see the great spiral of the Trinity sits between them, only a solid representation when the doors are closed.
Some signal must come because the two guards at the front of our entourage take a handle each and push the doors inward before turning back and extending their hands to us.
We walk into the impossibly tall atrium of the Ilyorean Palace to fanfare.
People line the walls in numbers to rival the streets of Nerine.
Everywhere I look, rapt faces look back at me.
I glance at Wren hesitantly, and his face does not betray him.
He looks stony and regal, the picture of calm authority now.
Chiron, too, though his is the smile of the beloved son returned home.
I lift my chin once more and stare directly forward.
The Guards are no longer in front of us.
I can see a path directly to the great thrones at the front of the long room.
I cannot see them clearly, but two people sit upon them, the King and Queen of Elemyr.
We walk forward, my husbands on either side of me. I keep my pace with them, matching their long-legged strides with my own. We make our way toward the royals there, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears like a drum.
When we reach the steps of their platform, Chiron bows low to his mother and father. I take my dress in both hands and curtsy low, showing my respect to the rulers of this land. Wren bows as well, a stiff bow that, if I were not so nervous, I might have giggled at.
We stay this way for a long moment, as Chiron greets his family and makes our introductions.
“Mother, Father. Your Majesties. It is with great pride that I tell you we have succeeded in our task. The beacons are lit, the Gods have spoken. I introduce to you, the next Trinity of Elemyr. This is our husband, Wren Ashyr, and our wife, Vonetta Sage. Trinity, I present you now to King Connor and Queen Arianelle Daciana.”
We rise together, the three of us. I look up to the royals in their great seats.
The King is a vision of Chiron’s future.
His hair and beard are peppered with silver, and his eyes are blue.
In every other way, the match to his son.
The Queen? She is a being of radiance. Her hair is perfectly coiffed in dark braids that wrap around her head to coil under her crown.
Her skin is a radiant golden hue, cooler than Chiron’s but absolutely where he gets his complexion from.
Her eyes are a deep brown, darker than his.
She is gowned in a silver dress with layers of shining gauze.
She is ethereal, a Goddess made flesh. But her eyes?
They look utterly terrified.
The King and Queen look to one another, holding each other’s eyes for a moment and then turning to address the crowds of people. The King speaks, his voice is rich and carries across the room, now hushed from its previous excitement.
“Court of Ilyora, your Prince has returned. Go now and share the good news amongst our people. The next Trinity has arrived!”
The shouts and clapping resound in the space, a deafening roar.
Chiron takes my hand tightly in his, and together the three of us bow once more.
For long minutes, people file out of the room until it is near silent, and I hear the great doors close with a heavy thump that echoes.
Something grows hollow in the pit of my stomach.
A knowing that something is very wrong right now.
We rise again, Chiron pulling me with him and then wrapping an arm protectively around me.
“How are you here?” The King says, his face blanched of its previous warmth and vigor. He looks as though a specter has appeared in front of him. Me? What have I done?
The Queen falls back onto her throne; she looks as if she, too, has been presented with a nightmare.
“What the hell is going on?” Chiron says, looking to his parents for answers.
The Queen puts out a hand, motioning for him to stop. “Hold. We need a moment.”
We wait. The sound of my heartbeat is louder now than before we entered here.
Someone enters through a side door, carrying what appears to be a frame in their hands. They place it in front of the King, who nods to them, and then they spirit away the way they came.
“Vonetta Sage, who is your mother?” the Queen says, her voice quiet and the words slow.
Confusion furrows my brow. My Mother? The Lady? No. She knows that the Lady has mothered no daughters of her own. So I answer honestly, confused and put off by this unexpected interrogation.
“Your Grace, I am a daughter of the Isle. An orphan given to Naedra. I have no earthly mother that I have ever known,” I say to her, bowing my chin in deference.
A quiet sob escapes her at my answer, and the confusion in me deepens.
If ever I did not understand something, it is now.
Wren is quiet beside me, his brows low and his jaw set.
The King sighs a great breath, one that says his mirth for this occasion has been quickly spent by whatever upsets them both so deeply.
He turns the great frame in his hands and sets it before us.
Pictured in front of us is a painted portrait, a beautiful one. I think for a moment that it is of Chiron, but I quickly understand that it is not so. Chiron’s arm tenses even tighter around me, I suspect to hold himself upright as much as it is for me.
Because next to Connor, next to Arianelle…
sits me. Or someone who could have been me were she not so frail and thin.
A green-eyed woman with long raven hair stares back at me, like a mirror.
We all stare in silent shock for so long, I cannot tell.
The only sound is my raging heartbeat blaring in my head like an alarm.
The King clears his throat, bringing us back to the present, but it is the Queen who speaks.
“I believe your mother was Adira. The Lost Queen. Our third. Call the council, and we must summon Vestera, the Lady of the Isle, at once. She must answer to this.”