A woman rises from the pool, her long, flowing hair the color of moss. Her jade eyes vibrant against her dark skin. When she smiles, thousands of tiny, purple flowers erupt over her body, covering her from breast to foot.
“You called to me, daughter,” the woman says, her voice like birdsong and honeybees.
“Mother Gaia.” Elora gasps, dropping to her knee. I do the same, my head spinning. “Forgive us,” she whispers. “See our sacrifice and?—”
“You came back,” Gaia says, her long limbs reaching for Elora. She tucks her finger under Elora’s chin, tilting her head up. “When I needed you most, you came back.” The Mothersmiles. Butterflies land on her shoulders, fluttering into her hair. “You have freed me. Freed them.”
She sweeps her hand across the courtyard where hundreds of gold flecks of light spiral into the sky.
“Spirits. Enchantresses,” Gaia says, turning her attention back to Elora. “Never forget who you are.”
She brushes her finger along Elora’s cheekbone, a tiny sprig sprouting from the back of her hand. When she pulls away, a new stone has been placed around Elora’s neck.
Gaia sweeps her arms again and she, too, disappears into the wind.
The bleak sky breaks with the promise of sun, the birds chirp, and as I take my wife’s hand, that piece of myself that belongs only to her sings.
Inside the council room,my stomach sloshes and my hands can’t decide where to rest.
My pockets?
Too casual for a king.
My hips?
Ridiculous.
Elora must notice my fidgeting because she takes one and my shoulders relax. Our bandages wrapped around our freshly sliced wounds are still tinted pink with blood.
This. This is the perfect place for my hand.
A council woman with dark hair cropped close to her scalp gestures for us to sit. When I do, I realize it’s not just the council. Thaddeus, Calix, Oletta, and Mordona sit on the opposite end.
“When did you?—”
Thaddeus raises interrupts, raising an ancient hand. “A story for another time.”
“Sorin Rudhek,” the councilwoman from before says, “the Guilds have provided us with your official decree of birth.” She pulls a pair of tiny spectacles from her pocket, slips them on, before taking out the piece of parchment I’ve memorized since I was fifteen. “On this day, the twelfth day of Summer, Celia Aisling has given birth to a son to be named after his father’s great, great grandfather; Sorin Rudhek III.”
She glances at me over the paper, my hands slick with sweat but Elora doesn’t drop them.
“By the country of Teravie, King Silas Rudhek and Celia Aisling claim this child as their own.” She sets the parchment down, placing her spectacles on top before folding her hands. “And you are Sorin Rudhek IV?”
It’s difficult to swallow, even more difficult to speak but somehow I find a way. “Yes.”
Murmurs and whispers sound from the other council members but the woman’s gaze remains on me.
“And are the rumors true?” She drops her voice low and the murmurs around the table begin to quiet. “Are you who they say? King Bastian and Queen Soleil?”
Elora’s grip tightens around mine as she clears her throat. “Yes,” she says, more surety in that one word than I’ve heard in her voice ever before. I don’t know why but it fills me with pride. “Their souls live on. In us.” She glances at me and heat rises to my cheeks.
“Gentleman,” the councilwoman says, demanding the attention of each of the other members. They give her a nod, as if their decision has been made long before I arrived. “From this moment forth, Sorin Rudhek IV, shall take his place as the rightful heir to Teravie.”
My chest deflates, the pent up air finally spilling from them, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m dreaming. If I somehow made this entire moment up. Surely this can’t be real? After everything we’ve gone through?—
Elora squeezes my hand, bringing me to the present.
“Thank you, councilwoman,” I manage to say. She nods, reclining in her chair. “Thank you, all.”
