Blue flames licked across the backs of her hands, trailing up her wrists and over her arms with pulsating heat. Her fire had always burned white, but now Ayla’s mágik blazed far hotter. The root of her power had always been the sun itself, though she had not always known it. With the Goddesses' blessing, that power rushed through her veins, simmering just below the surface even when she had not called for it.
Ayla felt powerful in a way that she never had before, worthy in a way she had always dreamed of.
For so many years, she had allowed herself to feel lesser than those around her. She had accepted poor treatment from those who claimed to love her and made herself small to fit their image of her. Ayla tried desperately to be the girl they had wanted her to be, at the cost of losing herself—of never discovering herself.
As the group began their journey back to Acsilla, she reminisced on the test the Goddesses had presented her with. She had been faced with every person who had ever demanded she fit inside a box of their making, every person she had willingly bent over backwards to please.
Every time, she felt the urge to be agreeable, the perfect princess. She fought back against that familiar habit. The rising desire in heroverloud brain to give away pieces of herself until there was nothing left.
She broke free of it.
Ayla did not allow herself to follow orders she did not agree with, perhaps for the first time in her life. She had faced her fear of disappointing those she loved. She had put herself first, even when they demanded she contort herself into the image of their choosing.
She felt stronger for it—she felt like herself for the first time in so many years.
The only person Ayla said yes to was herself. When her mirror image stood opposite her and demanded she put herself first, Ayla said yes. She recognized that she deserved to be appreciated. She vowed not to make herself small again, not when she had the power of the sun in her veins.
Not when she was a human being, worthy of respect.
When she woke, Théo had been by her side. He was the only person who had never asked her to be anything other than herself. Her best friend. Her brother—by choice if not by blood—and she was endlessly grateful for his love.
Cold winter light poured over their group. The day was calm and clear.
Ayla had the feeling that the Three Goddesses were protecting their journey home, washing away the darkness and danger of the Sarkhona Draum to make way for their light.
The sway of her horse beneath her had lulled her into a peaceful state as she reminisced on the night before, so Ayla startled when Safiya rode up alongside her. Ayla hardly gave her a passing glance, fixing her eyes firmly on the path ahead.
“Ayla, please. I think it is time that we talked.” Safiya spoke quietly so the others would not hear them.
“There is nothing left for us to say.” Ayla tightened her grip on the reins to steady herself. The wash of hurt crept up through her gut, flooding her aching heart.
“I am so sorry,” Safiya said in a lilting voice, the threat of tears audible.
“Fine,” Ayla replied. She did her best to keep her voice smooth, unaffected. “That changes nothing.”
Safiya made a pained sound, low in her throat. “I would take it back if I could.”
Ayla looked at her, finally. Her eyes were sharp with hurt and unmasked anger. “You can’t take it back, Safiya. The past is unchangeable. You made a choice, and now it is your responsibility to accept the consequences.”
“I know that,” she choked out. “And I will. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you need from me.”
“What I need you cannot give me.” Ayla forced the words out, each more painful than the last. She shoved down the urge to cushion her blows.
“Tell me.”
“I deserve someone who would choose me over revenge. Someone who loves me. Not someone who would use me to their own ends. I didn’t deserve that.” Ayla hardened her features. Eyes cold and sharp, full mouth pressed into a tense line.
“Ayla–”
“No, Saf. You don’t get it! I loved you. I took care of you. I chased away the darkness for you! Goddesses…” Ayla tugged at her hair, struggling against the deflation of her lungs. “I asked my father to break my betrothal so I could be withyou.”
“I didn’t know…” Safiya murmured.
“I was waiting to tell you.” She laughed because it was all she could do not to cry. “When I was queen, I was going to ask you to marry me. But now, I will never be queen, and we will never be together.”
“I would’ve said yes, Ayla. If you believe nothing, please believe that my feelings were real.” Safiya’s expression was regret incarnate, but regret did not unbreak a heart. It only shattered it further.
“They might have been. Still, they were not enough for you to make a different choice. I am done settling. I will no longer tolerate being second choice. I am the best Goddesses damned thing in that palace, and I will be treated as such from this moment forward.” Ayla turned away, nudging her horse onward. She shot one last glance at Safiya over her shoulder. “Go home, Safiya. Return to Kiaszta Naván and your family. There is nothing left for you here.”
