Her brow furrowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that the future he saw may not existbecauseof you,” Val-Theris said. “But because of what others choose to do in response to you.”
Jesenia studied him for a long moment, as though weighing the truth of that against the fear coiling in her chest.
“And you?” she asked again. “What haveyouseen?”
The question was softer now, but Val-Theris felt the answer press against his ribs, insistent and sharp.
You.
He swallowed. “I have seen many things,” he said instead. “Enough to know that prophecy is a warning, but that it can also be prepared for.”
She did not look entirely convinced, but she nodded, accepting what he was willing to give her.
“For what it’s worth,” Jesenia said after a moment, her voice steady, “I never wanted to be anyone’s undoing.”
“Nor are you,” he said softly. “The failure of this kingdom will never be on the shoulders of you or your people. That burden is mine.”
He wanted to say more, to admit to the things he saw before she arrived at his gates, but knew it would do nothing but weigh her down with guilt that was not hers to bear. He knew this much, even if he would never say it aloud: some endings did not arrive because they were chosen, but because courage and the strength of a people existed where power could not tolerate it.
THIRTEEN
With the unexpected interruption,the council had run well into the night, the sun long since hidden behind the horizon when they adjourned. Jesenia’s heart had been heavy of late, and she disappeared into the quiet gardens of the palace with a piece of parchment she had taken from the chamber.
She approached a fountain at the center of the garden, and folded the paper meticulously against the stone edge until it created the shape of a bowl, meant to be used in place of a lantern. She plucked a flower from the beds near her knees and placed it in the paper.
She had no fire to light it, but it wasn’t as important as letting the lantern float freely in the water, even if it had nowhere to go but in circles in the fountain.
Jesenia had intended to release the lantern and leave, but her heart began to weep as she whispered her brother’s name into the night. She hadn’t expected anyone to notice her here as she murmured soft fragments of Lunarethian river songs beneath her breath.
“Do you mourn?”
The voice was low, deep, and resonated in her chest. Val-Theris stood a few paces away, moonlight soft across his pale features, his wings folded close and shadowed behind him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass in your garden,” she said shamefully. “I will leave.”
Val-Theris didn’t seem to mind her presence though, coming closer and kneeling next to her before she tried to stand.
“Is this a Lunarethian tradition?” he asked, gently running his fingers along the delicate paper.
Jesenia nodded and her gaze fell back to the crude lantern. “My people send light to the river when someone passes. Today made me realize I never got the chance to properly mourn my brother, and I can only hope that the earth has been kind to his remains.”
He regarded her for a long moment, the silence stretching delicate and thin between them. He had no words of comfort to offer her—none that mattered anyway. It was his war with his own brother that took hers from her life.
Jesenia bowed her head, tears slipping silently down the curve of her cheeks and the lines of her jaw. After a long while, Val-Theris pulled a sheet of parchment from his coat pocket. An unimportant piece of paper that was from an earlier summons. He gently presented it to her.
“Would you teach me how to fold it into a lantern?” he asked gently, as if he was asking her for the world.
Jesenia blinked, but took it from his hand and folded it with the same care as before. She handed it back to him. He looked around for an offering before pulling a loose feather from his own wing. He set it delicately into the lantern and then pushed it into the water.
“For all those that Lunareth has lost,” he said mournfully. He had meant it sincerely, and Jesenia felt it in her soul. It caused her tears to fall harder.
The moment passed. Neither of them moved closer, and yet the space between them felt smaller somehow.
“I did not mean for you to see me weep,” Jesenia said softly, her eyes lowered. “It is not becoming of someone who claims to speak for her people.”
Val-Theris glanced at her, his blond hair catching the moonlight. “It is becoming of someone who carries the strength of her people alone.”
