Even suspecting what Terran meant, there still had to be hope.
How could I have fallen in love with an Aetherian?
He loved me. As I loved him. But I’d fallen for a prince. Terran was now king.
My heart raced as he approached, standing beside me.
“All is secure. None remain in Aetheria and a new second in command has been named. Courtesy of your Whispers,” he said to Galfrid, “I’ve been able to communicate with him, though my imminent return to Gyoria is still necessary. Some of the worst who colluded with my father?—”
“Our father,” Kael interjected. “You need not bear that weight alone.”
Mev placed her hand atop Kael’s, a silent act of support.
“Our father,” Terran amended. “Some have already been brought to justice, though I suspect many more will follow.”
I imagined Terran placing his hand on my left shoulder in a similar gesture as Kael’s. But it remained bereft of any touch. The air shifted suddenly as his scent and presence were replaced by an absence.
Galfrid had gestured to Eirion’s empty seat at the round table the king was so fond of. I looked from one to the next at a sight none, in Elydor’s history, had ever seen.
An Aetherian king, his daughter and her Gyorian partner.
A Thalassaria queen and a human, now proxy king, sitting beside her.
Myself, a noblewoman, honored to be sitting among such a group. To my right, Lady Issa and her Thalassari corsair.
“You are always welcome at this table,” Galfrid said as Terran sat. “I have no doubt what you and your brother did to save our city was extremely difficult and I am saddened it was necessary.”
“To save us all,” Terran said. “Not Aetherians alone.” He inhaled deeply. I wanted to comfort him, but couldn’t. He looked… sad. Tired. But also resolute.
“We’ve been offered a new beginning,” Nerys said. “Thanks to King Terran and Prince Kael’s sacrifice, for the first time in many years, an opportunity for true peace is possible.”
King Terran.
Would I ever become accustomed to hearing it?
“I wish that same peace”—Galfrid looked at Mev—“for my daughter.”
Mev, who had been holding her head high since we attempted to reopen the Gate, now dropped it in defeat.
In response, Terran took the satchel he’d not removed since coming to Aethralis, and lifted it over his head. Standing, he walked to Kael, handing the Stone of Mor’Vallis to his brother.
“I leave this with him,” he said. “Along with my blessing, Princess, to use it to reopen the Gate.”
Kael placed the satchel in front of him on the table, staring at it as if the Stone would roll from the leather pouch and attack him.
“If only we could,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
It hadn’t worked. None understood the reason. Admittedly, we’d been preoccupied since that night. But when order was restored in Aethralis once again, I had no doubt we would attempt to discover it.
“Our father,” Terran boomed, his voice as deep and commanding as it had always been, though it was now tinged with… kingship, “has sown seeds of dissent between us.” He addressed Galfrid and Mev. “And us.” He gave his attention to Rowan. Then Issa. “But blame does not lie at his feet alone. I allowed myself to be led astray, my mother’s memory a beacon of hate rather than love, as it should have been.”
A beacon of love?
It seemed I wasn’t the only one surprised to hear Terran speak this way. Kael’s expression bordered on comical, his brows drawn and nose widened in unconcealed astonishment.
“I suspect it will take many years for that new path you mentioned.” He addressed Nerys. “Neither will it be unlittered with the bodies of those who still believe we are stronger separate than we are united.”
“Divisions are easily sown,” she said, “but so is hope.” Nerys turned to Mev. “Do not give up hope. You will be reunited with your mother as Rowan and Issa,” she added, “will be with their ancestors. I’ve no doubt.”
