RANGI
Iwatch Leo stride away, following Victoria toward the palace. The weight of duty pulls him from our circle and back to his world of politics and compromise.
“Your prince seems troubled,” Whaea Ari observes, her keen eyes missing nothing.
“He carries many burdens,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral despite the urge to defend him. “The sacred sites project means everything to him.”
Grandfather Hemi makes a contemplative sound. “He seems to be a good man. Rare in these times.”
The elders begin to drift back toward their quarters, discussing the morning’s ceremony and the meetings to come. Tahma lingers, his expression unreadable as he watches the direction Leo disappeared.
“Walk with me, brother,” I suggest, gesturing toward one of the garden paths that leads away from the main gathering.
Tahma hesitates then nods, falling into step beside me. We walk in comfortable silence until we’re beyond earshot, the sounds of the palace fading behind us.
“So,” I begin, nudging his shoulder with mine, “are you planning to maintain that grumpy expression the entire visit, or might you smile at some point?”
Tahma’s serious expression cracks slightly. “Someone has to be serious while you’re busy making eyes at royalty.”
I laugh, relieved to see a glimpse of the brother I know and love behind his sour expression. “I wasn’t.”
“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen less obvious courtship displays from rook-birds during mating season.”
I snort, thinking of the flamboyant parrot which spends most of its mating season dancing. “Says the man who spent the entire welcome ceremony glaring at everyone as if they might suddenly attack.”
Tahma shrugs, but there’s tension in his movement. “It’s my job to be vigilant.”
“Your job, yes. But this isn’t like you.” I stop walking, turning to face him directly. “Why did you really accept this assignment, Tahma? You haven’t left the mountains in years.”
My brother’s gaze shifts away, focusing on the distant palace walls. For a moment, I think he won’t answer, then his shoulders drop slightly.
“The mountain patrols used to fill me with purpose, but lately...” He trails off, searching for words. “My soul lacks fire, brother. I go through the motions, but I feel... hollow.” He tabs his chest. “There’s nothing in here.”
The admission surprises me. Tahma has always been the traditionalist between us, the one who embraced our heritage with unwavering commitment while I sought balance between old ways and new.
“Why haven’t you said anything?”
“What’s there to say? That I’m failing our ancestors? That after years of judging you for adapting to the modern world, I’m questioning my own path?” He runs a hand over his face, a rare gesture of frustration. “Father would be disappointed.”
“No,” I counter firmly. “Father would understand. He always taught us that a warrior’s greatest strength is knowing when to change course.”
Tahma scoffs, but there’s no heat in it. “Easy for you to say. You’ve always been comfortable walking between worlds.”
“And you’ve always assumed your future lies where it has always been,” I point out gently. “Maybe it doesn’t.”
He looks at me sharply. “What are you suggesting? That I abandon the mountains like so many others?”
“Not abandon.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “There are many ways to honour our heritage, brother. Perhaps your path requires a journey before you can return.”
The click of efficient heels on stone announces an approach. We turn to see Victoria striding purposefully toward us, tablet in hand.
“Captain Rangi,” she calls, pushing her sliding glasses back into place with one finger. “The security overview you requested is ready, and Elder Kiri is asking for you. She wishes to discuss the preparations for tomorrow’s ceremony.”
“Thank you, Victoria,” I acknowledge, watching with amusement as my brother immediately stiffens, his expression closing off.
“Lieutenant,” she acknowledges Tahma with cool professionalism. “I’ve updated the security protocols per your... numerous recommendations. Though I should note that palace security has managed quite well for several centuries without them.”
“Several centuries of complacency breeds vulnerability,” Tahma responds, his tone borderline condescending. “I’ve never met anyone so uptight about valuable suggestions.”
