Rahzlyn
The streetsof Gemini’s royal city, Dioscuri, echoed with animated songs of Gemini lore and flashes of endless yellow everywhere. Sweet aromas of freshly baked bread and mulled ciders poured from the open windows we passed. The damp cobblestoned paths we trekked from the shop into the city were littered with lavender stems and trampled white lily-of-the-valley petals, the flowers of our kingdom.
Men played their tin whistles while women and children skipped by us, donning delicate green wreaths atop their heads made of the usual herbs and plants associated with Gemini like parsley, dill, anise, and basil, to name a few. Before we shut our shop down for the month ofTempus, we’d spent weeks fulfilling orders for such wreaths.
The only other time of year when the kingdom basked in such festivity was during Gemini’sAmore, the month-long romantic season when intimacy and intercourse were encouraged to ensure births occurred during only Gemini’sTempus. Each territory had their ownAmore, occurring nine months beforeTempus. Of course, accidents happened all the time, leavingchildren stranded from families after being born even a day too soon or too late.
Normally, my heart soared in the city, surrounded by music composed of so many people, sounds, and smells. But the vibrancy of it all paled to the worry festering in my mind.
I couldn’t stomach a life shackled toJere, let alone his mother.
Especially not to a life at court.
We arrived at the Stinky Boot as the sun set in a myriad of pink and gold clouds. I hesitated at the entrance behind Basil, my hand hovering on the wooden door’s iron handle. Boisterous music, stomping feet, and mugs clinking beckoned me inside the tavern.
Instead, I stared down the steeply sloped road. My gaze followed the line of buildings to the far edge of the city. To the gray castle looming on an emerald skyland, its craggy cliffs covered in moss. Weathered stone towers worn by hundreds of years of wind and rain reached for the twilight sky above.
From here, the castle was too far to see any guards or the king himself. Instead, dark, narrow windows peered behind the tufts of clouds rolling by. Like all skylands in Gaianos, the castle was stationary, permanently hovering at a watchful distance from the royal city, connected only by a long, heavily guarded bridge. All royals honoredTempusdifferently. Some, like the king of Leo or the queen of Taurus, traditionally welcomed their people to the castle for days of feasts and merriment.
Nahn said the king of Gemini, too, had once filled halls with his own food and drink for the common people. That hadn’t happened in years, and our newly Chosen King Zephyr had other priorities. He was whispered to walk the streets disguised as a commoner and dabble in illicit activitiesnotfit for a king.
I tried to imagine myself locked on Jere’s arm, partaking in such elaborate ordeals while keeping my mouth closed with aforced smile. Such an idea had me storming inside the tavern and straight for the packed line at the barkeep. I ordered several rounds of ale, downed them all, and asked for more.
With matching dark wood walls and floors, the ever-present odors of sweat and cheese permeated the stale air. No wreaths nor yellow Gemini flags hung anywhere. In fact, I was one of the only patrons in the entire tavern wearing yellow. Many considered it a sign of disrespect to our Astral, but those who celebrated the final day ofTempusat a tavern—rather than a temple—didn’t care.
“Named after me own husband’s feet, Gemini bless him,” Orlah had told us years ago when Basil and I wandered in here after finally coming of drinking age. A handsome, white-haired barkeep who had served us our first ales stood beside her.
“Stars, your hair is beautiful.” He’d grinned at me. “Name’s Kole. But you can call me anything your pretty heart desires.”
“And you can call me her brother,”Basil had snapped, nudging me aside.
Despite the rocky start, Basil and Kole became fast friends, bonding over their shared love of chastising our king and the political landscape.
I never cared to learn the politics of our world. I knew the basics, like how there were six kingdoms and six queendoms that made up Gaianos, each composed of four Chosens: a royal, a seer, and two guardians. The masculine kingdoms had twelve baronesses each, and the feminine queendoms had twelve barons each, to balance the energies and support each royal in governing their vast territories.
I’d gathered from Baroness Jacostah that court was more complicated than that. Each Chosen had their own role to play, and the barons and baronesses played an entirely different game to stay in their elected power. Their priorities seemed tobe spying, bribery, and manipulation—moreso than the general welfare of their people.
I would suffocate in such a life, and Jere would undoubtedly relish putting me in my place.
My heartbeat thundered as the walls of the cramped tavern closed in around me. My vision tunneled?—
“Rahz?” A strong arm gripped my shoulder. I turned, finding my brother. His brows scrunched with concern. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t trust myself to speak when I was on the verge of imploding. There were so many bodies. The room wasshrinking. The world was caving in. I couldn’t breathe?—
“Hey, let’s get you some air.” Basil steered me to the back of the establishment and out into the alley. The breeze enveloped me with its comforting, melodic chill. The weight from before lessened but still pressed down on my lungs.
Basil kept himself at a close distance, guiding me as he had so many times before. “It’s okay, Rahz. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”
I shook my head, gulping for breaths that couldn’t get deep enough.
His expression softened. “Listen for the wind. Find the music.”
I sank to the ground. The street beneath me was wet and hard, a far cry from the soft mud I craved to help ground me. I listened for the music as instructed, picking up on the faint notes drifting in the wind.
“What is that sound, Pahn?” I’d asked our grandfather one night during a windstorm, convinced it was strong enough to blow our house away. “There’s someone singing out there, Pahn!”
He’d stroked the top of my head as I sat curled against his leg by the flickering hearth, a storybook spread open in his lap.“There is no one but the wind. You possess a special gift, little one.”
