Haelo Rising, page 2
“I’m fine.” Was it adrenaline making me say this?
He laughed, exasperated. “Maybe a shower and a very long rest first?” he asked.
My father’s eyes flashed with something much too close to murder.
“Deal,” I agreed. I turned to my father and asked, “See you Friday?” trying not to feel the vulnerability in the hope behind that question.
My father didn’t answer. Whether he was going to let go of his hatred of the Candeon Empire and actually come to the wedding ceremony was anyone’s guess. I wasn’t counting on it. Not really. He shot Griffin another scathing look before softening a bit to hold out a small leather pouch, which Griffin awkwardly took.
“Thank you, sir.”
Jade ignored the prince’s thank you. “And for you, my daring daughter,” he said, lifting a necklace I recognized from my childhood from around his neck and offering it to me.
“Oh.” I hunched over and let him put it over my head. “Thanks, J—Dad.”
He nodded tightly. “I. . . .” He looked to the sea, jaw tensing angrily. Knowing my father’s shredded, patched-up soul had little patience for emotions, I didn’t take it personally. “I, uh—I’m proud of you, Lo. Be safe.” He finally looked me in my eyes. “The world is lucky to have you in it.”
Then he walked away.
I looked down at the koi wood carving hanging from the cord necklace he’d given me. It was a replica of the carved statue he’d sent as an anonymous wedding gift so many months ago—the one made of German beilstein jade. May it remind you of happy days to come. A childhood talisman to keep bad dreams away.
“Ready?” Griffin asked.
I gripped the carving in my fist and smiled.
Griffin led the way back to the modern white mansion built on this eastern end of the island—the only building on the otherwise unpopulated surface—where inside, we would descend a long, ancient staircase deep into the island, to the palace in the city of Pankyra tucked inside the massive cave below. The thought of the descent had my hamstrings shaking.
“I’m still waiting for you to warn me,” I said as we picked our way through the dry landscape. Only the royal family, their protection, and other very high-ranking Pankyran officials used the island’s surface. It was their exclusive way in and out of Pankyra. The island itself looked almost uninhabited but for the one stark building and the row of helicopter pads. For the most part, if someone wanted into Pankyra, they had to enter it from the sea below.
“Warn you?” Griffin asked.
“About what your mother wants to speak to me about. You seem nervous.”
“Ah.” He tucked his chin momentarily. “Well, my fiancée nearly plunged to her demise this afternoon. That might explain my nerves.” His posh Greek accent made his alarming words easier to hear. “And honestly, I barely made it out with my soul—let alone my pride—after the talk my mother just had with me.”
My eyes widened.
“But she likes you immensely more than she likes me. Deservedly so. Do not worry.”
I rolled my eyes. If I’d had the energy, I would have slipped a nervous laugh. “Are you okay?”
He stopped. Since I was leaning on his arm, I did too. He looked surprised. And hopeful. “Yes, I’m fine. I am . . . inspired.”
Inspired? By what?
He looked away briefly. “Thank you for asking,” he muttered before picking up on our walk.
The sudden tingle of sheepishness crept up my cheeks. I hadn’t given Griffin enough of my time. Or empathy.
A few steps later, my legs finally gave out. Griffin held me up as best he could until Hank scooped me up and carried me the rest of the way. It didn’t wound my pride; my adrenaline high was still in celebratory mode.
From the edges of my exhausted senses, I could feel the human auras of my father’s own mercenary crew (“The Beilsteins,” as we’d taken to calling them) from where they were staked out around the island.
They’d arrived a week ago with my father, who’d insisted on their presence. He didn’t trust the Krypteia’s ability to keep me safe—not after Prince Griffin’s royal kryptes bodyguard, Theo, turned out to be a traitor. His Majesty Basileus Alcaeus agreed that the Beilsteins could stand patrol on Pankyra’s cliffs until the wedding, but they were human, and as such were not allowed into the palace or the city. As for my estranged candeon father, he had been invited below; he’d just never accepted the invitation.
With one last look at the windy landscape, we headed inside.
I’d done it.
It had almost killed me, but I’d conquered the Eastern face.
2
All You Need Is Love
“You are going to make a lovely bride.”
I stopped reading the Global Council’s newest agenda—a proposal to drill more hydroelectric turbine shafts in the island’s western wall—and looked up to Galana Cora standing behind me in the palace library doorway. Her soft words would have pleased any other woman, but I wasn’t at all concerned about how lovely a bride I’d make.
I stood from the tufted chair I’d been reading in and curtsied. Despite the hot shower and rest, every muscle in my body pleaded for a good night’s sleep. The bones in my right hand had bruised when I’d jammed my hand into the crevice earlier that day. I’d probably brutalized them further when I’d held on for dear life.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said. “Something came up with the Aravosta Province. The Pahto clan in the northwest Atlantic isn’t very patient with the Caribbean clans.” She tipped her head in a conspiratorial way. With a graceful walk, she came to the tufted chair on the other side of the small table strewn with my papers. “Yes, a lovely bride. But more importantly, you will be a wonderful queen.”
I kept my face as impassive as possible. “Wonderful?” I echoed, trying not to sound so nervous.
She lowered herself gracefully into the chair. A regal angel. I followed suit, stiff and sore. She wore a chic, feminine pantsuit in slate gray with a scale motif in golden embroidery on the lapel—the first time I’d seen her wear anything other than black since the battle. There were many people in mourning, and Cora mourned with them. The simple act made me love her even more.
“You are the exact princess our people need right now and the exact Galana our people will need in the decades to come. Fate knew what she was doing.”
Had Cora said this before, my mouth would have gotten the better of me.
But in truth, I felt what Cora meant. Since the battle in Atlantis over eight weeks ago, I’d felt an incredible sense of stewardship toward my Candeon people. That responsibility grew within me every day. I no longer doubted Fate’s hand in my life; I wasn’t exactly proud, but I’d accepted it. I knew deep in my soul that there was a reason I was born with the blue mosaic of scales on my lower back—the mark of the future Galana queen. There was something that my people needed from me. I would give them all I could.
The question was whether that would be enough.
With a glance, Cora asked to see the Global Council agenda, then slipped it from beneath my hand. She perused its contents. “You have already learned our Candeon Greek dialect?”
“Trying. Here’s the English version. I’ve been comparing the two sentence by sentence. Pretty sure I’m only retaining half of it.”
Her mouth turned up in a satisfied smile. “Well done. Though it might be easier to start with stories. Council agendas are notoriously dry.”
“Probably.” I didn’t need to remind her that I had to keep up with what the Global Council was doing anyway. Two birds, one stone.
“Though I suspect”—she paused—“that you are trying to distract yourself?”
My eyes glazed over.
“I am aware of the harsh training you’ve been putting yourself through. Not to mention the hours spent learning our ways.”
“I have a lot to learn.”
Cora’s eyes narrowed. “You are hiding.”
“Excuse me?”
“You are hiding from your future,” she added with a gentle smile.
“I’m preparing for the future.”
“You are preparing for the enemy. But what happens when your people need more? A warrior needs more than skill. A queen needs more than knowledge.” She set the council agenda back on the table. “A king needs more than a bride.”
I swallowed back against my constricting throat.
She folded her hands in her lap. “What happens when war is over? Have you prepared for your life?” Her tone was nothing if not loving and kind.
“I’m preparing the only way I know how.”
She nodded. I tried not to read disappointment in her expression.
“Your people need a mother.”
I sat back, startled. “Your Highness, Griffin and I have an understanding. That is not something I’m ready to give.”
“No, Miriam. I’m not talking about a child.” She huffed delicately. “Not now, at least.” She rose from her chair, beckoning me to follow her to the window. Outside the glass, the underground cave of Pankyra twinkled with the lights and torches of a city preparing for evening celebrations. The strange pattern of bioluminescent bright light at the center of the cave’s enormous ceiling burned with an incredible faux sunset.
“I’m talking about them. They need a mother. Someone to turn to when things are hard.”
Her words hurt more than I could express. I’d done everything I could to be the absolute best I could be. I’d pushed myself, stretched myself. I’d tucked away every selfish desire I had in order to work toward a queenly potential for them. What more could they need?
Cora must have sensed my hurt. “You’ve done better than anyone expected you to. You are strong, kind, smart, determined. It’s time to let them see that.” She looked out across the city. “Let them know you.”
I let my eyes wander over the rooftops of the Old World city and imagined the families out there sitting down to dinner.
In the room's corner, a brass basin set atop an exquisite sideboard dresser started glowing. Basins were scattered throughout the private rooms of the palace; there was one in my own suite. This one was suddenly alive in its watery depths, glowing orange and humming an ethereal drone.
I’d seen this a few times before. Over the past few weeks, I’d witnessed Alcaeus, Global Council President Gregory Specter, the Human and Foreign Relations Advisor Ben Ames, and Griffin each receive a pola message from a similar basin. And since my pola ring was on the other side of the world somewhere in the blackest depths of the deepest ocean, the message in this room’s basin definitely wasn’t for me.
Cora subconsciously rubbed her ring. “Ah, yes. I’ve been waiting for news. Excuse me.” She walked deftly to the basin, curled her open hands into a cup shape, and drew some water from the basin. She held the cupped, glowing water over the pool below and closed her eyes while the light surged and melted into her hands.
When she was done listening to the message I couldn’t hear, she unceremoniously released the bit of water that hadn’t already leaked from her hands back into the bowl. She opened the top drawer of the sideboard and retrieved a folded towel, which she used to dry her hands. “It seems the Aravosta clans have finally agreed to mutual terms.” She looked relieved. “I was worried.”
“I’m glad.” How was I ever going to live up to the standard set by this woman? Aiding disputing provinces did not sound like something I’d excel at. “You are a remarkable woman, Your Majesty.”
“I’m a Galana, Haelo. A mother.” She came back toward the window, standing close to me. “To everyone. Just as you will be.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “When Alcaeus and I first married, the thought of tens of thousands of candeons looking to us for guidance made me want to run away. But his mother gave me advice that helped me see my role for what it is, and I’m going to tell you the same thing.
“A mother does what she can to help her child. She can’t do everything, but she does what she can. If I have the ability to comfort my people, then I comfort. I listen. I aid when necessary. Sometimes a small gesture of love is enough to ignite miracles. Our people are remarkably self-sufficient when they have the confidence of knowing there is a monarchy here who can see them.”
She turned from the window to face me. “But you can’t give love if you don’t know who to give it to. Let them know you,” she repeated, “and when they trust you enough to show you who they are, you will see what they need. This love is what keeps our empire so united.”
It made sense. “If only that would work with Massáude.”
Cora’s gaze fell to the city beyond the window pane. “Maybe it could.”
I smiled. She didn’t. It was a joke, right? “Are you serious?”
“Massáude wants to be heard, but no one has listened. His clan has been ignored for generations. Maybe his people just need a bit of love. It might even stop this war.”
I didn’t know what to think of that. I mean, I got it, but I didn’t get it. Massáude was a nutcase. Straight-up evil crazy. A bit of royal love was not the way to go about it. Right?
It definitely wasn’t the empire’s current game plan, that was for sure.
She must have seen my confusion. She placed a soft hand on my back and quickly shook her head. “The musings of an older queen. Think about what I said, Miriam. You were born to mother this people.” She smiled and headed toward the door.
“What about Griffin?” I asked.
She paused and turned around to face me.
“Is Griffin meant to be a father to them?” I needed to hear—from his own mother—that Griffin was the right choice. Fate may have opened the door, flooded the path with lights, and pointed in this direction, but I’d still made choices. Tell me I’m tying myself to the right one.
“Griffin was born to be a ruler. Just as you were. Everyone on this earth is gifted with their own version of perfect potential. You and Griffin will have to work hard to help each other reach yours; your mantles of royal responsibility are heavy. But they will be lighter if you work together.”
Her face fell slightly with her last thought, and then soft, kind eyes met my own. “Is there anything you’d like to discuss, Miriam? Excuse me, Haelo. I know it must be hard not having your own mother here to talk with on the eve of your wedding.”
Two days. I have two days. I smiled painfully. “I think I’m okay. Efcharistó.”
She nodded. Before reaching for the handle, she paused. “If you change your mind, I am here.”
With that, she left. The guard posted outside swung the door shut behind their queen.
So I need to be a mother, I thought. I need to let the people know me. Whatever that was supposed to mean.
I lowered myself into a chair, thinking. Weeks ago, on the backside of the Atlantian battlefield, I had vowed to rally my people. And what had I done so far?
Hidden from them.
Get your crap together, Lo.
With a huff, I got up and moved across the room to a settee. I flopped down into the ornate sofa and stared at the intricate woodwork gracing the walls. My thoughts twisted and morphed between queenly maturity and teenaged hesitation. In truth, I wasn’t ready to move forward. I didn’t know the first thing about rallying an empire! Couldn’t I just wait? Put that on pause for a bit?
Eventually, my eyelids grew heavy. A giggle puffed out of my über tired body. This was the first time in weeks I wasn’t ruthlessly pushing myself to go harder. I could have sat there, collapsed on that couch, doing nothing, for days.
I cleared my throat to cut off any whiney thoughts still lurking around in the back of my mind before they had a chance to formulate.
My wedding was in two days. I was on the brink of joining the royal family responsible for the protection of a weary and uneasy people.
A whole freakin’ species.
Just last week, President Specter had warned my future father-in-law, Basileus Alcaeus, that he’d better put an end to the threat of Massáude, or the Council—and the people—could lose faith in his ability to lead. I didn’t know what that was supposed to imply. It’s not like candeons held elections for their king. Basileus Alcaeus was the ruler. The next ruler would be Prince Griffin. It was the way of their world. There was magic, and destiny, and trippy scale mosaics, and fated marriages, and—I don’t say this lightly—centuries of traditions involved. There wasn’t anything the Council could do about that.
Hence, my wedding.
Be a mother. Let them know me.
With a painful grunt, I got up off the couch.
“Hey.” Because what else do you say to the fiancé you’ve been mostly avoiding for months? A couple of formal meetings a week does not a courtship make.
Griffin stood from his desk. “My dear.”
I stepped further into his ornate office. “I spoke with Cora.”
Griffin nodded and respectfully clasped his hands behind his back.
“She’s pretty great.”
“This I know,” Griffin agreed with a smile. “What can I do for you, Haelo?” He looked hopeful. It made me feel worse.
I forced myself to stand closer to his desk. “I’d like to get to know Pankyra better. The people, I mean. Our people. I mean, would you like to help me get to know the . . . people?” I think there were hand gestures.
When he smiled, something in his eyes glittered. It was like the crown jewels could shine through his stupidly perfect eyes. Winkity-wink. “I think that is a fantastic idea. Did you have something in mind?”
“Um. . . .”
“How about”—Griffin deftly took the reins with all my gratitude—“we go visit with the children? The ones from Atlantis?”
“That sounds pretty great, actually. Anything else?”
“We could tour some of Pankyra’s facilities? Get to know those who keep this city running?” Griffin stepped out from behind his desk and came around to me.
