“And so they would find each other again and again,” Matua Hemi adds, his eyes meeting mine briefly before shifting to Leo, “in this life and every other. For souls that are meant to be together cannot be kept apart—not by custom, not by duty, not by fear.”
The silence that follows feels heavy with meaning.
I don’t look at Leo. I don’t have to. His pinkie stays wrapped around mine. And in that tiny touch, I feel the quiet weight of a promise. I stare at my plate, acutely aware of the careful way he maintains composure despite the flush creeping up his neck.
“What a beautiful story,” Charlotte says finally, her voice soft. “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”
“It is not told often outside our tribe,” Elder Kiri agrees. “For many years such stories were hidden away. But it seemed... appropriate to share today.”
My granduncle lifts his teacup in a small gesture that might appear casual to others but that I recognize as a blessing. “To warriors who find their true path, whatever shape it may take.”
“Here, here,” Roy murmurs, lifting his coffee cup in echo.
Leo clears his throat, his composure remarkable despite the obvious message being conveyed. “Thank you for sharing, Elders. Our mythology is rich with such tales of devotion and courage.”
“Mythology?” Elder Kiri’s eyebrow raises. “Oh no, young prince. This is history. The stars remain, after all. And their spirits walk among us still.”
Her eyes meet mine, and I know she sees more than I’m ready to admit even to myself. The knowledge of generations sits behind her gaze—the wisdom of a woman who has watched the patterns of the world long enough to recognize them repeating.
“Speaking of history,” Leo says carefully, “should we could discuss the day’s agenda? I understand the Prime Minister has requested a preliminary meeting. I’m hopeful that we might put pressure on her to secure our history in a more expedient manner.”
The conversation shifts to safer territory—schedules and strategies for the negotiations ahead. I participate as expected, offering suggestions while carefully maintaining a professional veneer. But beneath the table, his hand finds mine, our fingers interlacing before he releases me.
And so they would find each other again and again, in this life and every other.
The words echo in my mind as I catch my granduncle watching us with something like satisfaction.
Later, as the meeting breaks up and we prepare to head to our respective responsibilities for the day, Elder Kiri catches me in the hallway.
“The stars align as they will, young one,” she says cryptically, taking my offered arm. “It is not our place to question their paths.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I reply, though we both know it’s a lie.
Her laugh is soft, knowing. “Don’t you? I have watched you since you were a boy, Rangi. I know your heart.” She pats my arm. “And I know what it means when you look at someone the way you look at him.”
I should deny it but lying to Kiri has never been possible.
“It’s complicated,” I say instead.
“The young often think so,” she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. “But as you get older, you begin to see that many things are simpler than they appear. The heart knows what it wants, Rangi. It’s our minds that create the complications.” She reaches up to touch my temple, a gesture she hasn’t made since I was a child. “You carry our people’s stories in your blood, my darling. Listen to them.”
Before I can respond, she turns and walks away, leaving me to wonder exactly how much the elders have guessed—and how much they’ve always known.
I find Leo waiting at the end of the corridor, his expression cautious as I approach.
“She knows?” he asks quietly.
“I think so,” I agree, falling into step beside him as we walk toward the meeting rooms. “But our secret is safe with her.”
“Do you think that story is real?” he asks, carefully not looking at me.
I consider my answer, weighing honesty against discretion. “I have no reason not to believe it. It’s one that stretches back to the beginning of our people,” I say finally. “And forward to the stars.”
He’s silent for a moment before a small smile touches his lips. “That’s quite poetic for a military man.”
“Don’t sound surprised.” I bump him gently with my shoulder. “I happen to contain multitudes.”
His laugh is soft but genuine. “Clearly.”
