THE CEILING OF THE PALACE, the Goddess Keep, soared almost to the heavens themselves, Wren thought, holding the old book she’d recovered from the goddess’s birthplace. Her lush, silver gown, gorgeous and undoubtedly expensive, rustled as Aral walked at her side, he, too, decked out in finery—a suit that faithfully followed the hard lines of his body. Silver was the color of the robes of the highest priestesses, and the family color of the ruling family on Sakka. She found it curious but an honor that the palace tailors chose to clothe her and Aral in the hue.
It also made them both feel a little more confident that they wouldn’t be arrested immediately following the ceremony.
His hand brushed over her arm, tenderly, even a little possessively, something he’d not fully ceased to be. But then, he was a product of their culture as much as she was. Along with Vantos, Kaz, Hadley, Bolivarr and the crew, they formed a solemn procession as they made their way down the long marble path to present the scripture to the goddess-queen Herself. Wren quaked at the thought. She was the warlord’s daughter, and though cleared of crimes, her family and theirs had spent millennia battling each other.
Finally she reached the queen, Queen Keira’s mother. The woman was startlingly beautiful, with masses of black hair lit by reddish strands, much like Wren’s
Wren dipped her head respectfully and offered her the book. “I have returned it in the name of peace.”
The queen took the volume, her eyes widening with wonder and awe as she opened to the first page, turning to the next and the next; Wren and her party waited, the audience of thousands waiting in the wings to see if the book met the queen’s approval. “The revelation of everything,” the woman whispered, looking up. “Unlocked by the one with the blood of the goddesses in her good and pure heart.”
Goddess? Stunned, Wren almost pushed on her glasses out of awkwardness before remembering they were long gone. “How?” she managed.
“Your mother, Lady Seela, was of a lost bloodline descended from the goddesses themselves, as is my family. As are you, child.” The queen’s hand smoothed over the pages of the book. “There are many other revelations to be discovered in the pages within, but this is one I thought you would like to know.”
Sister Chara stood off to the side, looking a bit amazed herself, but no less than Aral. “You’re going to be insufferable now,” he said in Wren’s ear.
She simply groaned, whispering back, “More DNA to live up to.”
THEY GATHERED AFTERWARD in Prime-Admiral Zaafran’s office, an event attended by most of the highest-ranking members of the military and parliament. The man seemed moved almost to tears seeing Aral. He gripped his shoulder, soaking in the sight of him. “M,” he said. “Z.”
“Aral, there are no words to adequately express the Triad’s gratitude for your acts of bravery. Not one, not two, but countless deeds over years of loyal work. And this latest—” he looked at Wren, his eyes warming “—your personal matter, was something quite wonderful for us all.”
He turned, reaching for a shiny object resting on a cushion held by one of his assistants. “We hereby award you the Medal of Freedom,” he said. “In the Triad, it’s our highest honor.” As Wren watched, her heart swelling with joy, he pinned the commendation on Aral’s chest. Then they embraced, heartily pounding each other on the back in masculine fashion.
He then turned to Hadley, calling her forward, followed by Bolivarr, giving all promotions in rank. It was a glorious day.
“I’m not sure what your plans are, Aral,” Zaafran said later over drinks. “But your expertise is welcome.”
“My expertise is war,” he said. “It’s peacetime.”
“We never stop preparing for war. It’s how we prevent it.”
“I thank you,” Aral said, sliding his arm around Wren’s waist. “But we hope for a quieter existence. Planetside.”
“Do you have a location chosen as yet?”
“Yes, in fact.”
“Earth,” Wren put in. She caught Prince Jared’s niece Ellen grinning at her. “It’s far from here, and a shrine.” Owing to its being the birthplace of Prince Jared, Queen Keira’s consort. “We’ll be able to enjoy greater acceptance, and less recognition there.”
The admiral nodded, understanding.
A new life, she thought, in the Earthling land called Australia. Advised by the prince’s family, they’d chosen a private stretch of beach on the western side of the continent, far from prying eyes.
Three months later
WIND FILLED THE SAILS of the small boat, pushing it swiftly across the water off the Australian coast where Wren and Aral were building their home. Aral dropped the sails when they were far enough from shore. Wren carefully unwrapped the urn containing her mother’s ashes, and unplugged the lid. She’d thought long and hard about whether to scatter her mother’s ashes on Issenda or here. In the end, she’d decided that it was only right that they finally be together. In her heart, she knew it was the right choice. The sun gleamed on Aral’s bare chest as he made his way to stand next to her. Her hair whipped around her face as she turned away from the wind, tipping the urn to release the ashes. They flew away in the breeze, disappearing into the air and water. “You’re free now, Mother.”
Aral’s arm looped over her shoulders as she pulled another item from her bag. The pouch of gems she’d intended to use to bribe Keir and secure passage out of Zorabeta had never been used. Gems that Sabra had given her. They were her only tangible connection to her guardian. In lieu of ashes, she’d scatter the gems at sea to honor her. “You were the mother I never knew, dear Sabra. You taught me what love was. Else I may never have known.” Tears in her eyes, she tossed the gems out to sea. In making the galaxy whole again, I became whole.
Aral moved behind her, holding her close, his chin on her head. His fingers laced over her stomach, his marriage tattoos blending with hers.
“You would have known of love,” he argued sometime later as they drifted on the water. “I would have come for you no matter what, and we’d have fallen in love.”
She smiled, turning in his arms. “My lost boy.”
“Lost…and found.” His handsome face lit with mischief, a quality emerging more and more as his nightmares ceased to haunt him. “So, what do you say, goddess. A swim?”
She stripped down to her bikini, a scandalous garment by highborn Drakken standards. Whooping, she dived after him, following him into the water soaked in warm sunshine. The battlelord and the warlord’s daughter were finally, inarguably free.