“I’m more than happy to put their training to the test. You name the time, and I’ll meet you on the sparring field or you could finally climb the damn thing.”
“I’ll pass on the wall, but I might take you up on the sparring. I look forward to winning.”
Greer laughs and claps me on the back. “We’ll see about that.”
I move to the side of the desk where Borin stands with Leif by his side. Micah’s husband taught me everything I know about how to act like a queen. It was his influence that gave me the courage to go to the temple and learn from the Sibyls. In my heart, I knew I’d find more strength in knowledge than returning to Basecamp and resuming my role as a soldier, but it was still a tough decision to make.
Borin tilts his chin down and the sun shining through the bay windows gleams off his bald head. He places a rich umber hand on my shoulder and squeezes. His full lips pull into a smile, and his deep voice rumbles through my chest as he says, “I hope you were able to find some peace of mind while you were away. I am guessing you could have used the rest of your time, but I have to admit, I am glad you are home.”
“It’s nice to see you, too.” I hug him, his palms warm at my back. Sinking into his soft navy-blue jacket, I let his gift radiate through me. His light is a comfort he has offered me countless times, and it has energized me when I pull away and face my godfather.
“Raelle,” Micah says, standing and pulling me into his arms. He drops his voice so only I can hear him. “I hope you will forgive me. I realize I promised you more time, and I tried everything I could to give it to you, but the matter at hand refused to wait.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He leans back and brushes his soft hands, smelling of earth and spice, over my cheekbone. “I will explain. But first, you must say hello to one more person.”
I saved the best for last.
My heart races, and the giddy feeling inside of me brings a wide grin to my face. I fling my arms around my father’s neck and squeeze. “I missed you so much,” I say, my voice muffled by his broad chest.
“I missed you too,” he says, placing a kiss on the crown of my head.
It’s a relief to see him looking like the strong man who I remember from my childhood. When I left for the temple, he was regaining the weight he lost while he was the Stigian queen’s captive. My father had withered in her keep, torn from his parah and the family he adored. He made a great sacrifice to protect the young man he secretly raised, only to have him betray us.
I brush my fingers over the graying hair at his temples and study the age lines around his eyes and mouth. Time could never wreak havoc on his handsome face. “You look fantastic, practically twenty years younger since the last time I saw you.”
“Thank you. But…” He purses his lips and searches my face, staring at me with brown eyes that match my own. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.”
He asks again, slower and with authority. “How are you doing,Raelle?”
I struggle through the emotion threatening to boil out of me and my voice is gravelly as I say, “It still hurts, but with every passing day, I move closer to feeling like myself again.”
A worry line forms in between his eyes and his mouth ticks down. He understands better than anyone else in this study what I’m going through. Kyron didn’t just betray my trust, but my father’s too. He also knows the hurt of being separated from the person he loves. For a year, he lived without my mother. They may not be parahs but that doesn’t mean he didn’t experience a similar deep, agonizing void that nothing can fill.
“You can conquer anything. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says.
“Thank you, Papa.”
My father straightens his officer’s jacket and gestures for me to sit in the chair next to his. I lower into the seat and direct my attention to Micah.
The king glides his thumb along the flap of an envelope with a broken seal and takes a long breath in. His chest expands with the air and he slowly releases it. My skin crawls with anticipation, and I fidget from side to side. I suspected this wouldn’t be a comfortable meeting, but waiting for Micah to gather his thoughts is on the verge of torture.
His gaze meets mine, and he slides the envelope across his desk toward me.
I stare at the emblem pressed into the red wax on the flap—the Stigian crest. There’s only one reason our rival kingdom would send correspondence, and it’s not to warn us that they plan to attack a small farming community in the dead of night. They need something from us, and I have a feeling of what it is.
With quaking hands, I open the flap and remove the thick parchment paper inside. In elegant handwritten script, it reads:
Queen Esmeray Noor LeFur,
Sovereign of the Stigian Kingdom
requests your attendance to
the anointing of her son
