Born of stone and stars
Forever bound as one”
As our voices rise together in the afternoon air, I feel something shift. Maybe it’s where we are, maybe it’s the power of tradition, or maybe it’s simply the way Rangi’s gaze holds mine, unwavering and full of meaning.
As our voices rise together, I feel something shift. Maybe it’s the sacred space, maybe it’s the power of tradition, or maybe it’s simply the way Rangi’s gaze holds mine, unwavering and full of meaning.
“Our traditions bind
Our choices shape
Honor guides us
Trust sustains us
We are children of this land
Born of stone and stars”
Rangi moves closer as we sing, our bodies turning naturally toward each other as the melody demands more power. In this moment, there is no prince and captain, no duty and protocol—just two warriors sharing the songs of our ancestors.
When we reach the final verse, the one that calls for guidance from those who came before, Rangi’s hand clasps my forearm in the traditional grip. The touch anchors me as our voices soar together, filling the sacred space with centuries of tradition and pride.
“Forever bound as one.”
The last note fades into the morning air. For a heartbeat, silence holds—then Elder Kiri begins the soft rhythmic clapping thatsignals approval. Others join, the gentle percussion a traditional response to songs well-offered.
Charlotte dabs at her eyes—always the emotional one. Roy’s arm tightens around her shoulders. But it’s Kit’s expression that catches me, knowing, supportive, and carrying something that looks remarkably like pride.
“The ancestors hear,” Elder Kiri declares. “They recognize their children’s voices.”
I step back, my skin still tingling where Rangi’s hand had gripped. His eyes hold mine for a moment longer before we both turn back to our places in the circle.
“The Crown recognizes these sacred places,” Kit declares formally. “They shall be protected, preserved, and honoured according to our ancient ways.” Her gaze finds the Prime Minister’s. “So it shall be in spirit and in law.”
The Prime Minister bows her head in silent agreement.
I can barely breathe through the swell of emotion in my chest. Since I was a boy, tracing the patterns on my grandmother’speripuni, I’ve dreamed of this—our sacred places protected, our traditions honoured not just in memory but in law. Father had started this work, but death had taken him before he could see it through. Kit had given me the freedom to continue it, trusting me to bridge the gap between crown and culture.
Now, watching the Prime Minister’s formal acknowledgment, knowing these sites will be preserved for my nieces and nephews and all the generations to come—it feels like completing a circle. Like fulfilling a promise made long ago, when a young woman was chosen to be the firstRumingha.
I catch my sister’s eye. Kit nods slightly, acknowledging what this means not just to our people, but to me personally.
This is my legacy. Not as a spare heir, not as a soldier, but as a son of two worlds who found a way to protect them both.
My throat is tight as the ceremony is ended. The Elders stand and we are invited to break bread and eat, mingle. The circle breaks, formality giving way to quiet conversation.
I stand but remain where I am, watching as the Elders celebrate with politicians, policy makers mingle with delegations, and Charlotte draws Roy toward the map, pointing out places she recognizes from childhood stories.
This moment is larger than me. It’s larger than any one of us. It is the culmination of all the work of those who have come before.
Emotion hits my chest and for a beat I’m terrified that tears will begin to fall.
I sense him before I hear him—a shift in the air behind me, the subtle scent of sage and cedar that I’ve come to associate with him alone. A warmth radiates at my back, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel the heat of his body through my ceremonial robes. My skin prickles with awareness, every nerve ending suddenly, acutely attuned to his presence.
“Your Highness.”
His voice, deep and gravelly, caresses the shell of my ear. He stands so close that his breath stirs the hair at my nape, sending electric tingles cascading down my spine. My body responds before my mind can catch up—a shiver that starts at my shoulders and travels the length of my back, effectively haltingthe overwhelm of emotion that had threatened to break through my composure moments before.
