FIFTEEN YEARS LATER #3
Eventually, everyone moved inside, where staff hustled to take luggage to designated rooms.
Graella and Arabelle were staying in the eminent guest suite on the third floor, while Joiya helped herself to the usual guest room nearby—Ramaron would be staying in town while everyone was around.
Rechar was taken to his mother’s old room, where the eleven-year-old boy immediately announced that it needed a “black coat of paint.”
“I’ve spent a long time on this room,” Sulim informed him. “We can make changes to it to suit your tastes, but let’s not get too crazy.” See? I’m already the unfun one.
The staff was in a tizzy, of course. Not only was Lady Graella back for her annual visit, but she had brought both children, including the daughter who had been born a few months after the wedding and the son who was the future of Gardiah Estate.
Because when Graella promised us she would “take care of it,” she meant it.
After years of her standing her ground and discussing things between Arrah and Qahrain, it was finally, formally decided that Rechar would begin his apprenticeship to become the future Lord Gardiah.
Sulim was glad to have it finished—all that was left to do was to ink some contracts and update her and Sonall’s wills—but she was not the kind to idly sit back and say, “Well, that’s done.”
Marco’s treachery and knowing how badly other noblemen wanted a piece of the Gardiah pie kept her ever-vigilant.
It was why she focused so much on Nolan, ensuring his happiness and helping him choose a future that suited him.
For while he wasn’t genetically related to the Gardiah bloodline, he could become a problem if he suddenly decided he wanted to inherit, after all.
Maybe not a full-blown attack… but years and years in Arrahite succession court.
There were times she envisioned Jacelah there, judging Sulim’s decisions as Lady Gardiah.
She would find our whole living arrangement a scandal.
If Jacelah weren’t dead already, that alone would have sent her into an early grave.
But she’s not here. Instead, when Sulim saw her mother-in-law’s ghost hanging around like a judgmental specter, it was about how Sulim ran the house…
and how she and Sonall figured out the line of succession.
And taking care of Nolan, one of Jacelah’s very last requests toward Sulim.
“I’ve taken care of everything,” Sulim would tell her in the confines of the salon, which had also been renovated to reflect both Sulim and Mira’s tastes.
“Your youngest son will be taken care of and want for nothing. Your grandson will inherit. We’ve maintained the family’s reputation throughout Arrah. No Cerilynian tribe will touch us now, as long as I’m around to say something about it. I will be around a long time.”
Sulim stayed behind in Graella’s old room after the others returned downstairs.
Dinner would be soon, but Sulim was distracted by her youthful reflection in the mirror hanging by the bathroom door.
Like Rechar had observed, she hadn’t changed a bit.
Even Kema looked a little older with an extra wrinkle on her forehead.
While she would still outlive Sonall by decades, assuming the Void did not call her Home earlier than that, it was clear that Kema was entering what was considered middle age for a hybrid.
She went to the window overlooking the backyard. Sulim was not surprised to find Joiya and Mira standing out there, shrouded in the mist as they caught up as mother and daughter.
What did you two do to me?
No. Sulim was focused on Mira. What did you do?
Mira glanced up in her direction, as if she sensed her soulmate judging her from up high.
“That dress is wonderful on you, my heart.” Joiya had not shed her traveling cloak as she and Mira enjoyed some privacy together. The humans and hybrid were busy in the house, giving tours and kissing cheeks, but Mira knew this was a moment to steal with her mother. “Are you not cold, though?”
“Nope.” Mira wrapped her hands behind her, bare arms and legs exposed to the gentle elements. “You get used to the colder winters here. It doesn’t snow much, but the rain is cold.”
“Staying busy, I presume.”
Mira grinned. “Not as busy as you, Ma. But that’s how I like it. There’s plenty of time in the future for me to restart a career before I become Lady Dunsman.”
“Yes. Your father sends his regards—and his love, to be sure. But mostly he wants me to ask you to consider a research career. Even he acknowledges your impressive track record.”
“Ma…”
“Oh, I told him it would be at least thirty years before you seriously considered moving back to Yahzen. Which gives us plenty of time to sort out your living accommodations! I’m thinking that when you and Sulim finally marry, your old mother gifts you a townhouse in Garlahza, hm?
You two deserve your own place.”
“Ma.”
“I know you all talk about these things, my heart. You’ve all been through too much to not acknowledge what has happened.”
Mira pursed her lips. I never know what she actually witnessed. After the drama died down on that fateful day, Mira confessed everything to her mother, whom she was equally overwhelmed to see in the flesh again. “You were a goddess in that world, Ma. And in this one, you Ascended to free me.”
But Joiya had already known, of course. She knew of every ripple in the universe, every trip through time, and every reverberation of love and devotion spoken to the Void. Especially from her daughter.
She even knew about what her husband did in those other worlds. She knew how Mira had been born in worlds where Joiya could not birth her. She knew what she was.
Like Mira, she had been to the End of All Things more than once.
Mira did not question what this reality was.
An abomination, I suppose. For all she knew, they were in some corner of Elysian, the fabled heaven that all julah went to after death.
This is my heaven. This is my small kingdom, granted to me because I did my best.
Of course, Mira had no evidence of that.
For all she knew, this was a real universe that had been miraculously stabilized. For now, anyway.
All her mother had promised was that Mira would live out her natural life with her soulmate at her side. When Mira once asked how she knew, Joiya had said, “She heard your prayers. The unknown creator. The Void has granted Sulim a tremendous boon. She is one of us.”
No, Sulim was not a julah. She had no talent, could not naturally speak the language, and had no personal ties to things she did not understand.
But there was a reason Mira was teaching her Julah and why Sulim readily studied it.
One day, when Sonall was gone and his lovely young widow had ensured everything was stable on Gardiah Estate, she would marry Mira and go with her to whatever corner of the universe would have them.
They would keep watch over Arrah from afar, for as many generations were necessary until Gardiah Estate’s natural fall, as all humans endured.
Sulim would slowly adopt more julah culture to blend in as the old guard passed away and Mira gained eminent power in her father’s House.
Yahzen would not recognize their same-sex marriage, but nobody would question why the future Lady Dunsman’s consort was a woman, let alone why she had the run of the estate.
Eventually, Sulim would become a legend among younger julah.
They would whisper, “She’s actually a human, you know! A human who lives as long as a julah!”
And someone would reply, “No way. That’s not even possible. She’s just untalented. She can’t teleport or light a candle. Like my cousin.”
They would say this while looking at Sulim in her fine gowns or tailored trousers, swearing in Julah and bossing around a household like she had learned to do on a planet called Arrah thousands of years ago.
It was what Mira had wished for at the last moment at the End of All Things. And the Void had heard her.
I wasn’t the only one there.
Joiya cocked her head toward the left. Mira followed her gaze, sensing a presence in the treeline leading to the nearby forest.
“She won’t leave you alone, huh?” Joiya did not wish to bring attention to Rahara’s ice-blue eyes, since the two of them were fairly acrimonious those days, but Mira knew they would come around to each other.
Eventually. They both wanted what was best for Mira; they both knew what the other was about.
Even if the physical, in the flesh Joiya in front of her daughter had no memories of being the woman who ruined Rahara’s life while still instilling undying loyalty within her, she knew what Rahara was.
A reminder that not even the High Priestess is infallible.