Papa pats him twice on the back and grips his biceps, holding him an arm’s length away. “Be thankful. Honor my king and your uncle. If it were not for him, you may have lost your parah today.”
Kyron nods. “I am and I will.”
I look back at my mother and sisters as they watch the shared affection the men have for each other. Ansley studies Kyron, her big, brown eyes taking in every inch of his face. She takes a small step forward and fidgets with her ruffled skirt. Salone meets my gaze and follows it to Ansley, who now stands ahead of her. She tilts her head at our little sister, and I shrug.
With a deep breath that puffs out her chest, Ansley closes thedistance between her and Kyron. She tugs on the bottom of his jacket, and his conversation with my father stops mid-sentence. He turns and tucks his hands behind his back.
“Sorry to bother you, Your Grace,” she says.
Kyron swiftly runs his palms over his eyes and clears his throat. “How may I help you?”
“I’m Ansley Mansi, the queen’s youngest sister.”
He holds out his palm to my sister and says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ansley.”
“You as well,” she replies, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry about your uncle and about my brother’s rude behavior. I hope you won’t hold it against him. We just really love our sister. You made her really sad, and she left us so she could fix her broken heart.”
Ansley isn’t oblivious to the tumultuous history between our kingdoms. She’s heard the stories about the injustices committed against the Cyffreds and the Stigian queen who tortures those who cross her. She grinds the tips of her shoes into the ground as she winds her dress around her small fingers. The nervous gestures tell me that she believes Kyron might be capable of the same atrocities and could punish Rowan for his outburst.
Kyron lowers his tall frame into a squat, bringing him and her eye to eye. “I promise not to hold it against him. And I apologize for hurting your sister and for the hurt that caused you and your family.” He glances up at my mother and father, letting them see the sincerity in his eyes.
My heart swells when they both nod with silent forgiveness.
He returns his attention back to Ansley. “I promise you that I will never hurt her like that again.”
She tilts her head to the side, her brows furrowing. “Do you love Raelle?”
“Yes.”
“How can you love her when you will one day be the king of Stigian, and she is the Lucent queen? You can never be together. You are enemies.”
Kyron puckers his lips and nods, showing her that the question has merit. “That’s an excellent question. Can you keep a secret?”
“Yes! I’m good at keeping secrets. I didn’t tell Mama when Raelle left to save Papa. It was Rowan who finally opened his big mouth.”
Salone and I chuckle. Rowan has never been good at keeping important matters from our parents. The boy is the most honest person Iknow. In fact, he is honest to a fault at times.
Kyron leans in and whispers in my little sister’s ear. Her lips part, forming anOand she looks over at me.
“Really?” she asks.
Kyron smiles, and I melt when his dimples indent in his cheeks. It’s the kind of smile I don’t get to see often. Our current situation and the ones that have preceded it haven’t called for it. “Yes, really,” he says.
Ansley presses a quick kiss to his cheek and skips to my side. “I like him, Raelle.”
I smile down at her and say, “I’m happy you approve.”
The carriage at the front of the procession creaks, followed by the slide of wood on wood. Everyone turns toward the hearse as palace guards move forward carrying Micah’s coffin. The little joy we’ve found vanishes just as quickly as it came.
I hate to think that his body will lay lifeless inside that confined space for eternity. It’s hard to believe that an ornate, oak box can contain a being who encompassed so much conviction, compassion, and love. But the best parts of Micah will not be entombed with him. Every Lucent will carry on his legacy. Borin exhibits his unconditional love, my father shares those same beliefs of equality, and each of his people knows the makings of a just leader. They will pass a piece of Micah to each person they encounter, and so he lives on.
The Lucent soldiers training with my father and the Stigian general have lined both sides of the stairs leading to the sanctuary’s entrance. They kneel in respect as the guards pass with his body. I grasp Borin’s hand, leading him into the holy place where his husband will be laid to rest.
This is goodbye, and neither of us is ready to let go. Isn’t that the way it always is though? Life doesn’t stop for heartache and loss. All we can do is find the strength to take one step after the other and move into the unknown.
The catacombs under the sanctuary are dirt tunnels with golden lights along the floor. Earth and dust combine with the dank air, makingit hard to breathe. Pliris’ past rulers lay at rest in crypts with their images carved in stone on the top. Placards nailed to the front of the tombs declare the greatness of the sovereign or their spouse encased within. The layers of dirt on the crypts testify that the bodies are forgotten, and the legacy of these people doesn’t dwell here but within ancient tomes and legends shared by their people.
I look back at the box of stone that now houses Micah’s body. It’s pathetic compared to his ancestors. Nothing marks the grave as his. There’s no likeness on top or stone chiseled summary of his life. It’s as if Micah doesn’t exist at all among his predecessors.
