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The torches flickered against the darkness of the night sky, burning as though the stars had descended from the Embrace and danced among the crowd. The chill of fresh blood–his blood–against my throat. I resigned myself to the inevitable, ready to join my brother. I was close, feeling as if he waited for me just beyond my sight. Afraid for me to cross over alone. Then came the sword of fire, and the brave warrior pushed on by someone...else. Kaata, he called it.
It has been too long since the language of Amienne graced my ears. ‘Lend me your flame. Burn away the darkness.’ He held back the dark one and drove it from sight. That’s when I saw it. The face of my rescuer-
“Emile!” Alira shouted across an empty room as she sat up in bed. It took a few moments for the beating of her heart to slow as she held a hand to her head. It’s... fine? Her right hand was mended, with no evidence of an invasive procedure and no binding to keep it together. As she looked around, Alira noticed the beautiful, white marble flooring give way to grey stone walls decorated with intricate, woven tapestries and painted works of art. Underneath her she felt the comfort of the bed she laid on. I can’t quite remember the last time I slept in a bed this comfortable, for it is a greater luxury than even Namelle can boast. She felt the dryness of her mouth, barren as she traversed the sand wastes of Reyvia. Reaching for a cup on the table next to her, Alira tilted it back toward her mouth. It didn’t go down easy and wasn’t the drink of water she expected. The taste of wine hit her throat, and she coughed. It gave off an unrefined air as she spilled some on the white night dress she wore. Thank the stars no one was around to see that. Ugh, what a mess you’ve made.
“You know,” a voice came from her left, soft and endearing. Alira snapped backward against her pillow and pulled the blanket over her head. “You should have been better, uh– ‘Quest-ce que c’est–ah! Here, take this one.” Alira felt ashamed that someone had witnessed her spectacle, but she was thirsty, and thrust out her hand from beneath the blanket. The stranger offered her the cup and Alira pulled it back beneath the covers. This is much, much, better. The tepid water tasted clean, unlike the stale, warm water from the army’s waterskins she had recently become accustomed to. The after taste of the dryness that washed away was horrid, but she was much better off.
She passed the cup back out and it was taken by the helpful person who was obscured by her linen cover, but the voice called to her again.
“I am happy you are–uh–well, my lady. Will you come out today?”
Oh how I missed the accent of Amienne. So soft, so graceful. She pulled the blankets down over her eyes. So romant- Alira’s eyes met those of, by the gown and headdress she wore, the young nurse who helped her recuperate. Her beauty struck Alira, the way strands of her sandy hair cascaded down her face, highlighting her strong jaw line and punctuating her supple body. “My lady? Are you okay?”
It took Alira a moment to clear her head and wind her jaw off the floor, but she managed to smile and bumble out whatever words she could. “You, um. You... Ahem! I uh. I’m... I’m Alira.” What is this? Breathe, Alira. Just breathe. As hard of a time as this poor girl must have had to put Alira back together, she would have a greater struggle to clean up the melted puddle Alira turned into.
“I apologize–où sont mes manières? I am Amélie Duval, your chosen nurse by the charity of sa Majesté, Emile Riennes.”
“Emile...Riennes...” Alira hung on every word Amélie spoke and repeated it under her breath. The unstressed words flowed out from the most beautiful person Alira had ever seen. They were a melody which cast the world’s worries aside and drew her in. A voice I could listen to every moment for the rest of my life.
“I’m pleased to see you’re finally awake.” The girls stopped staring at one another and turned to see Emile in the doorway. “I thought you might never come back.” The man’s version of her voice. Ugh! Why can’t my voice sound like this?
“Ah, Sire. Excusez-moi!” Amélie curtsied to show her respect. “I had not seen you there. Oh I do apologize for-”
“Ce n’est pas un problème, Amélie. Please, I am happy to see you’ve taken such wonderful care of our guest. I am in your gratitude.” He bowed his head to her, a true honor in Talliers and a sign of change. The old king bowed before no one. “If you’ll excuse us, we have the matter of state to discuss.”
“Of course your highness.” Amélie gave a subtle smile to Alira out the corner of her mouth and departed the room. As Emile closed over the door Alira hollered out, “farewell Amélie!” Her voice trailed off as Emile lowered the latch.
Emile watched Alira, seeing her face flush red and her eyes trying their hardest to see through the wooden obstruction as Amélie passed by on the other side. As her eyes shifted to Emile, she saw his arms were folded and the silliest grin was on his face.
“What?”
“I know that look, Alira. You can’t hide it from me.”
“Listen, you. I don’t know what you think you saw-”
“C’est l’amour.”
“No! It isn’t.” She shook her head in denial of the accusation. “Don’t go there.”
“Have we put the cat into a corner? How you guard the shame for your emotions. Feel them, and all that they bring.” Alira refused to touch on a topic as sensitive as love. “She is beautiful though, no?”
“No.” She’s stunning.
“No?”
“No!” Admit it, Alira. “Okay, fine... she’s pretty.”
“Is that all?”
Alira tapped her leg and bit the tip of her tongue to try and hold the truth back; it was no use. “Okay, she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Emile. There, I said it. Is that what you wanted?” Alira was annoyed she had to acknowledge her feelings in front of him. He always knows. Why does he always know? Comforting to see he hasn’t lost his touch, but annoying all the same.
“That is exactly what I hoped for, the Alira I remember. How I’ve missed you my old friend.” He pulled a chair next to her bed and Alira moved over to sit on the edge. As the smile left his face, Alira sensed that this next conversation wasn’t going to be easy.
“I need to know what happened.” A great flood of memories and horrific images filled her mind. A million little doors that locked away unimaginable horrors, were thrown open at once. “Start from the beginning.”
She breathed deep and closed her eyes. She pushed the air out of her lungs with a deep sigh as her foot tapped on the floor. An involuntary release of energy, but no matter what she did, nothing would tell the story for her. She had to find a way to lighten it, if only for herself. “It was sunny that morning. I had just picked up Zahra, who I bested as we sparred in the courtyard the day before we departed.”
He dropped his head and shook it. “Do you want to start over? Don’t lie to me again.”
“Emile...”
“Alira...”
“...ugh, fine.”
* * *
“That’s it. That’s everything.” The ebb and flow of emotion that Alira had been through in the last hour exhausted her. Having told the story and been forced to relive each moment of that nightmarish menagerie again was trying.
“A reaver? It cannot be so?” Emile was amazed to hear that the terrifying beast of legend was real. “And Cael he... Alira, I’m so sorry. He was–uh–a brother to me.”
Alira rubbed her reddened eyes, still wet from the tears she had shed. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth, as she tried to soothe her mind and comfort her soul. “He, uh... yeah, he’s...”
Emile got on the bed next to Alira. He reached out to her hand and took it in his, needing her to know she was safe. She was in tremendous pain, and he showed her that she still had a friend. “I hope that Zahra made it back to Namelle and warned them of Essea. My heart breaks that we didn’t make it in time.”
Alira stopped and looked at him with a perplexed expression. “What do you mean, you didn’t make it?”
“The evening before you departed, I received a raven who had come from across the bay. It bore a letter with the seal of a golden lion. One sent by your brother.”
“Cael, he wrote to you?”
“Oui, did he not tell you?”
“He, uh.” She paused, “failed to mention it...”
“He wanted to reform the old alliance. I received from him the following day saying that Essea was marching to Aenne Aelle. I sent a response in short order that we would join you. It was my honor to fight alongside the great lions of the south again. We rallied what forces we could, but it was a struggle with those still loyal to my father... those damned Parisienne holdouts. We set out the next morning with a compliment of six thousand infantry and one thousand cavaliers, less than half of what I’d hoped for. He asked us to attack Essea from the west as Namelle marched from the south in Khuldir.”
Alira was hurt, Cael withheld such a vital piece of information from her. Not only her, but from Zahra in her planning. Damn you, Cael. Why did you not tell us? If only we might have waited one more day.
“We were waylaid, Alira. By the time we had arrived at Chantille, we encountered another force. One that fought us for four, long days before they retreated across the Great Bridge. They fought with us, I had never seen a force so-”
“The Esseans sent an offshoot west into Talliers?” So their numbers are far greater than expected.
“No, not Essea. They fought under the red banners of Illyria but were light and fierce with painted faces and bodies. I had never seen anything like it. They broke our lines, then they were amongst us like shadows. It terrified even the best soldiers. They delayed us and they gave every life in pursuit of that aim.”
Alira remembered her studies about Illyria and knowledge many had written down in the decades before. With Emile’s testimony and the literary echoes of the past she was able to unmask them. “Everything she said was right. Vanir is mobilizing more than just his vanguard.”
“C’est q’uoi? What do you mean she was right?”
She told me this was coming. Calos broke his seal, and he’s going to awaken Aegill. Alira’s eyes flittered about, and she grew a sick, green color as her stomach turned. She tucked her head between her knees and covered her ears. Why is it so hot in here? Will this room ever stop spinning? I...I...
Emile grabbed a bucket off the floor and shoved it into her chest in time to catch the vomit that spewed out of her mouth. Her arms wrapped around the bucket as Emile held her hair back with one hand. He tried to rub her back with the other, but her fears were beyond mortal aid. Once he was sure she wasn’t going to throw up again, he set the bucket back down on the floor.
“It wasn’t Essea you fought at the Great Bridge, Emile. The light armor, swift movement, and the penetration of your lines. That was Wardena.”
“Wardena? We haven’t fought such a force before.”
“If they are anything like Essea, even they have feigned their true strength.”
“Perhaps the Imperator has mobilized more than the Empire’s western lands.” He rose from his chair and walked out onto the balcony of the room. As he looked out over the city, Emile hit the handrail in front of him.
Alira stood, and her feet hit the cold marble floor. She was a bit unsteady at first, but soon rediscovered her strength, and joined Emile. “We thought we were ready and Essea destroyed us without so much as a second thought.”
She put her hand on his shoulder and looked out across Vilmonde. The city was filled with homes adorned with copper shingles atop houses of wood and white stone which ran off to their termination at the grey perimeter wall. Cobblestone streets wove their way throughout the residences, much like they did in Tirelle. Tallieri citizens went about their daily lives, oblivious to the wolves that lingered just beyond their borders.
“We’ll be ready, we have to be. My people have spent so much to repair our city from the–how do you say? –devastation of my father’s war. I can’t allow them to cross into Talliers unchallenged.”
“Emile, you still haven’t told me yet how you found me. How did you get through the Esseans?”
“She told me to find you.” As he turned, Alira noticed that his hand sat upon the grip of his sword. In its hilt a red stone glowed, fain in the light of the morning sun. “For so many years the stone was nothing more than a beautiful inset in my family’s sword. As we were about to cross onto the Plaine des Dieux, it–uh–awoke. I felt the searing heat of fire course through my body, but with the brief moment of pain there was comfort.”
“And what did she tell you?”
“I have been called through by another, thus the time of the end draws near. Awaken, Fate of my line, and hear me. Another faces execution, you must ride to her aid. When the moment is right, unleash my power and bathe them in flame. For too long has the shadow forgotten my name, but you will make them remember–Kaata.”
“So, your family line is also fated? Emile of the family Riennes, a Fate of Aten.”
“I did not understand it but the power she offered was incredible, surreal, and seductive. Her flame felt as though it coursed through me, as if it were a part of me.” He stared down at his fingertips and rubbed them together.
“They, uh, have a habit of doing that. Did she take control of you too?”
“No, not at all. It felt as though we fought as one. Where I was powerful, she was swift. Two, in perfect unison.” He motioned to the stone again. “You know what this is?”
Alira hesitated before speaking. If the Riennes family was also part of the fated line, she needed to trust him. “Yes, I do. My family heirloom was an ancient artifact that Cael entrusted to me before his death. It’s called the Ring of Terra. From that ring, a goddess, much like yours, awakened and bestowed upon me unimaginable power. But she sought control and took over me. I was her instrument, her puppet. I watched helplessly as she unleashed her wrath upon Essea. My autonomy was stripped away. She was in tune with my emotions and awoke when we needed her most. She—Drea—claimed she heard my call from beyond the veil.”
“There is another then?”
“Five altogether, from what I read in our kingdom’s oldest record. Unite the Fates, she told me.” Alira told him about her meeting with Drea and how she was chosen to find the one called Aten. Having experienced the power firsthand, Emile questioned nothing she said.
“Kaata offered me direction, swiftness, and strength. She told me to find you, and I believe she felt the Drea’s call. Kaata chose the moment to strike and insisted that we save you. That thing on the platform, she seemed to have unfinished business with it. Unlike you, however, the decision and the actions were my own.”
“The stone set in your sword belonged to your family, where the one set in the Ring of Terra was not that which was given to my Verbrandt ancestors. Drea confirmed I was a Fate, but that I was not the fate of her line. Perhaps that was why I was unable to control her. Zahra taught me to fight, but not like I can under her control. Every swing of the sword, every block and parry. Her precision, her tenacity–all of it present and none of it mine. She broke me. My body is not used to the strain of combat and yet Drea remembered all too well. Still, I am alive, and I have her to thank for that.”
“Well, I’m glad that she helped me find you, Alira. I count my many blessings as well that my First Bow trained our archers well. It was one of their arrows that felled your executioner, a perfect shot. Then we took the attack on in, and the sacrifice of my soldiers allowed me to get to you.”
“Well, please introduce me to your First Bow in time. I’d very much like to thank them.” The smile so often borne on Emile’s face faded and was told Alira that there was something wrong. “Did I... say something wrong?” Alira asked.
“She’s—” A knock rattled on the door to the room. “Well, I’m thankful she trained them so well. A story for another time.” He stepped back into the room and beckoned to the person at the door to enter. A heavy-set man, with grey hair and a short beard stepped in.
“Veuillez m’excuser, Votre Altesse. Lady Alira, so nice to see you are moving about.”
“Et toi, Guillaume, merci. It’s good to see you again.”
“Your Highness, your attendance is requested in the throne room. The Vocklan delegation is ready and awaits you. From the docks, the party from Drangvik have disembarked and will be present in the next few minutes.
“Drangvik? You brought Drangvik here?!” Alira’s head whipped around, and she looked to Emile for a response. She failed to hide the confusion and anger that were interwoven in her heart. “Emile, please, they are the descendants of Vaal the Undying. What they did to my people is unforgivable.”
“Yes, and they have been a forgotten part of this continent for too long. They have as much to fear from Illyria as we do.” He turned back to his chamberlain, “Guillaume, have the delegations from Reyvia and Shiun arrived?” Guillaume shook his head to give news the prince didn’t want to hear. “Then please inform our guests I will be there to greet them shortly.”
Guillaume nodded and departed the room, closing the door behind him. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get yourself ready and we can go together, Alira. Amélie has laid out something she had made for you.” He pointed to a dress that was hung in the far corner of the room just behind the balcony door. “I trust you’ll find the color to your liking?”
“Emile, why have they come? Why now?”
“I hoped that you would tell me. It was Cael who summoned them. His letter called each of the southern kingdoms to Vilmonde to answer the Illyrian problem. He knew our fight was not only with Essea and needed to buy time for each to answer. That reason he may have marched on Essea alone, to buy us time. After everything you’ve suffered in the Aelle Faene and on the Heaven’s Fall, they must see how dire our predicament is.”
Alira remained unimpressed, sitting down on her bed with her arms folded. Why did you not tell me, brother?
“I’ll take my leave then. The guards outside your door will escort you down once you are ready.” Emile gave a slight bow to Alira and left her to wonder on the lost wishes of her brother.
* * *
Emile’s guards escorted Alira from her room in the hospital wing, her footsteps shuffling along the smooth stone floors. As they walked, memories of her childhood began to resurface. The sun streamed through the ornate windows, casting a warm reddish hue across the corridors. Female attendants bustled about, tidying and cleaning, while groups of burly men hung new Riennes family banners. Despite the years of war between Vilmonde and Périzieu, the castle still retained its charm, though it was a stark contrast to the crumbling battlements and weathered walls of Namelle.
Each step brought her further into the past. The longer she looked, the more she could see herself, a spectre of her imagination that lived out some of the happiest moments of her life. Alira wished she could linger and revel in the delights of a life since passed, but there were other matters to attend.
At the throne room door, the guards halted and pushed open the massive wooden doors. As Alira entered, the sharp clack of her heels echoed, drawing the attention of those gathered. Not one for the spotlight, she winced as she passed a marble pillar, and the herald announced her.
“Princess Alira Verbrandt of Namelle!”
The announcement caused her heart to skip a beat. It has been some time since I’ve been announced anywhere. I am pleased that Namelle gave up such formal, courtly customs many decades ago. She looked at Emile whose smile stretched from ear to ear. Of course it was you, ever the trickster. She managed an unimpressed smile for the remainder as she continued forward. Just you wait. Enjoy your little laughs while you can.
The prince and his guests rose to greet her, and Emile stepped out from his chair and moved around the table to give an introduction. “Alira, may I introduce Leopold Schmitt and Emmeline Baumann, advisors to Count Jonas and Countess Jannika Krüger of Vockla.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance my lady. It saddens me to receive news of your brother.” The well-built Leopold spoke first, with his kept blonde hair and deep blue eyes. That armor, it must be Vocklan. The purple and copper accents are stunning!
“Unfortunate that there have been too many sad moments of late, my lady. I am Emmeline, and it is our pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She was shorter in build than Alira and had a deep cut that ran across her cheek. Emmeline had blonde hair and blue eyes, a common trait among the Vocklan people.
“It’s an honor to meet both of you,” Alira said, and offered an awkward wave. “Although–and please interrupt me if I’m mistaken–I thought Vockla was a protectorate of Talliers. Is it not still?”
“There have been many changes of late,” Emile replied. “When my father’s mind waned and he set our people against one another, Vockla pledged to fight for Vilmonde. After the long war, I granted them their independence and we pledged to honor each other’s call from that day until our last.”
In the end, I suppose the circumstances are irrelevant and only the question of ‘will they fight by our side?’ remains. If Emile puts his faith in those who guard the northern shore, then I will in turn.
Emile moved to introduce the envoy from Drangvik. The man was rugged and lacked any air of refinement, exactly as Alira had expected from the southern isles. His gaze had been fixed on her from the moment she entered the hall. She met his stare, her hands clenched into tight fists beneath the table.
“Finally, Alira may I introduce–”
“Are we going to have a problem?” The Drangvikr spoke in such a deep voice it seemed to reverberate through the legs of the table. The hairless head, beard and ritualistic markings that covered his body seemed to match everything the keepers had recorded about those from Drangvik. His name didn’t matter, and there was no difference between one islander and another. To Alira, it was Vaal who sat next to her.
“Rest assured,” she said through gritted teeth. “The problem lies only with you and your people. In each and every one of you it broods as it has for hundreds of years.”
“Good. We’ll need every bit of your anger, but none will serve you here. Save it for them/ The only enemy you’ll find in this room, princess, is that which you bring with you.” He looked to Emile and smiled, “just the girl that the jarl hoped she would be.”
What does he mean ‘hoped she would be? Who is this jarl? An uncivilized title for an equally barbaric civilization.
“If you’re done with your tirade, girl, then you can take a moment to remember my name. I am Kjallak Thorvardsson, the Thane of Keldaheim and advisor to the Jarl of Drangvik.”
“Now that we’re all... acquainted, let’s proceed,” Emile said. He turned to Kjallak, “what does the jarl say about the meeting? Will she remove the naval blockade and open Asjavegr to us?”
“She has agreed to host this council but cautions you that outsiders on the island of Ellriheim will not be widely accepted among the Thanes. Find peace, for she has brought them all to heel before and will not hesitate to again. She has one request in order to lift the blockade,” his eyes traced from Emile to Alira, “you bring this one with you. Word has reached her of you.”
“Travel to those cursed islands? Never will a Verbrandt set foot in Drangvik unless it be to burn it to the ground.” Alira stood out of her chair and hit her hands against the table.
“Friends, mes amies, if you please.” Emile lifted his hand in an attempt to quell the fire that burned inside Alira. “There are much darker things at work and the more we dwell on the past, the more we impact our future. Let us set aside our individual hostilities for the greater good.”
“Emile, if I may.” Leopold placed his cup of wine down on the table and stood up. He walked around, with his hands animated as he spoke. “I need not tell you, but we share a common enemy. The Vocklan nation stands at the threshold of an Illyrian advance to the north. Whether by land or sea it matters not. We are without the support of Périzieu who guards the eastern border. Thus, we must strike first, strike hard and fast.”
“We know of the sizable force that Essea sent to the Heaven’s Fall,” Emmeline added. “A sea of black that traversed the great plain. If what Emile tells us is true, then the Imperator has also ordered Wardena into this fight. I fear that if we don’t force him to action now and keep him contained in Nemesia then Vanir may turn his attention north to Radia.”
“The one advantage Illyria has over us is they’re already united.” Leopold said. “Our spies in deep cover within their capital of Trella tell us that, though their society has order, it is a tinderbox which awaits an errant spark. They rule with fear, and that fear brings order.” Leopold placed his hands on the back of Alira’s chair. “The best time to strike a precise blow is now. The Essean Army has passed through the mountains and will have set upon Namelle already.”
“Then my city is lost?” Alira was in disbelief and dreaded the thought of what the Esseans might have done to her people in her absence.
“I don’t believe it is beyond our intervention yet.” Emile said. “If we can trap them in the south and overwhelm them, we may just be able to take Essea out of this fight. To do that, we’ll need help from the east.”
“You think Reyvia and Shiun will commit? I’m certain they haven’t forgotten how Namelle treats their allies.” Kjallak’s words that threw fuel on the fire of Alira’s rage. “You believe they’ll fight for her kingdom, prince? The earliest chance Namelle had, they formed an alliance with the eastern lands, but at the first calling, they abandoned it.”
Alira pushed her chair back, causing it to topple over. She went face to face with Kjallak and stared up at the tremendous warrior. “The last time I said goodbye to my father, he rode into battle to honor that allegiance. How dare you stand here and tell me that we abandoned them!”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your father, girl. It’s a shame that he never saw what his kingdom became.”
Alira drew her hand back and swung at Kjallak, but he caught the blow before it landed. She felt the pain of his grip on her wrist, but it was muted by the adrenaline that rushed through her. “As I said, save it. You’ll need it soon, we all will. Prince Emile, I think we’re done here. We sail for the islands at first light.” Kjallak flapped the furs on his back and walked with heavy footsteps out of the hall.
“Well,” Emmeline said. “I suppose we’re not going home without some kind of fight.”
“I assure you friends, this isn’t what I had planned.” Emile said, nervous as he tried to keep his new allies from lambasting his old ones.
“It’s no concern, Emile. We’re familiar with the Drangvik Incursion.” He walked around to Alira, who was still fixed on the door Kjallak had left through. “We’re honored to fight alongside you, princess. I’m certain the jarl will be as well once you meet.”
“Thank you, my lord. Please excuse me, I have forgotten my manners in all of this.” Alira hung her head, feeling the shame of her actions. Why couldn’t it have been you, Cael? You know I was never one for diplomacy.
“So, will you sail to Drangvik with us?” Emile asked.
“Leo will sail with you,” Emmeline said. “I must return north and ready our forces. We will leave just enough behind to ensure that if Wardena interferes, they will regret ever having come south.”
Emile embraced the Vocklan before she left. The Vocklan Dame gave a smile to Alira, as she left with Leopold close behind. “Tomorrow, then.”
As the throne room’s doors closed, only Alira and Emile remained. He stood next to her, grabbed her wrist, and pressed up the sleeve of her dress to have a look. “No worse for wear. A little bit of color but it should be good as new in no time. You need to look after that hand of yours, Alira, it's been through far too much recently. Thanks be to Kaata we were able to mend your wounds.”
Alira had grown all too familiar with pain over the past week, experiencing its full spectrum. In the brief silence, it all came crashing down on her. A single tear fell from her eye onto his hand, and she trembled as her emotions broke free. Emile pulled her into a tight embrace, letting her release everything she had been holding in.
“They’ve taken everything from me, Emile. My father, my mother, Cael, Mohammed. Everything! I hate them, I hate them all.” Each word released more pain and rested it from her shoulders. “They took my family, they took my home, my future. It’s all gone. I am all that remains. The disgraced princess of a kingdom with a tarnished legacy.”
Emile would understand her concerns. His father was dead, and his lover exiled. But he had Talliers, and he would die before he saw it fall. “You are not the disgrace of your house. You are its only survivor, and as long as the Verbrandt line endures, Namelle will always have a future.”
* * *
Night fell over Vilmonde, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Alira closed her eyes and listened to the distant crash of ocean waves mingling with the faint strains of flutes and lyres from the city’s taverns.
“Pardonnez-moi, princesse.” Alira heard the familiar voice of Amélie from her doorway, and realized she hadn’t closed it back over when she returned from dinner. “I wanted to come and see if you were–uh–being well?”
She’s, she’s here. Okay, breathe Alira. Just breathe. Stand straight, shoulders back–
“Bonne Soirée, Amélie. I am doing well and–ahem–honored that you would come to ask.”
“I have brought for you some flowers. Lilies, and peonies from his majesty’s garden. Prince Emile said he didn’t mind but that I should avoid the gardener.” She placed the earthen vase on Alira’s bed side table. “They remind of me of my home in Élysées. I hope that you find your comfort and peace in them.”
“They’re... beautiful, Amélie, thank you.”
“So you are better then, my lady?” She clasped her hands in front of her and looked on with a bright smile.
“Just, Alira. Please.”
“As you wish, Alira.” She walked over to the door and turned to say farewell. “If you like the flowers, then I am happy.” As she reached for the handle of the door, Alira held out her hand as if some divine intervention would keep the door from being closed. “Wait, Amélie. Would you stay with me? Just for a while?”
Amélie smiled and closed the door over so they wouldn’t be interrupted. She walked out to the balcony and leaned against the stone rail that held the last bit of heat from the day’s exposure.
“Tomorrow you will go with the prince to Drangvik?”
“I will, yes. Though my heart does not desire to, my head tells me otherwise.” Alira reflected on everything that took place during the meeting with Vockla and Drangvik. “I still don’t know how to feel, that is where my conflict persists. Our past says I shouldn’t go, but the present demands that I do.”
“Look not on your past. Answers, you may find, but also great pain. None of us knows the future, and it does not do well to dwell on it.” Each of her words were the lyrics of a song that comforted Alira. Every word wrote itself into her story, line by line as it filled in blank pages of her life.
“Do you think that we’ll have more moments like this? Not those of worry and danger but of peace, and serenity.” Alira asked as she stared into the endless infinity of the darkening sky.
Amélie grabbed Alira’s hand. “I don’t know what tomorrow holds, or what the future will bring, but right now is all that matters.” Amélie rested her head against Alira’s shoulder. As she looked out over the expanse of Vilmonde and the sun setting on Nemesia, Alira rested her head against Amélie’s and enjoyed the next few minutes of peace. She earned it and owed it to herself to remember the little moments like this. Overhead the first light of a faint, lone star came into view. The twinkle of its light drew nearer, moment by moment. A foretold return.