Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Q ueen Ryenne Shawth, tenth Queen of Onita, felt so very, very old.

She could feel the age in her bones, in her skin, in her veins. In the tissues and sinews holding her body together. Each one was weakening, stretching thin, slowly losing a piece of life with each strenuous beat of her heart.

She ambled down the hallway, one side of her body leaning heavily on her cane, the other leaning on Kalen. But he, too, was old, the many centuries of their lives racing up to them with a ferocity that terrified her.

Her entire Armature had grown as old as her, frail and tired and ready for the peace that awaited them. However, besides Cedoric, she hadn’t lost any others; their life forces were still tied to hers, and they were bound to the earth until the last of her tasks were complete. When it would finally be time for the Goddess to welcome them home.

Ryenne’s breath rattled in her lungs as she ascended the wide stairs, cane clicking on the marble.

The wound in her heart left by Cedoric’s death was still raw, but she took comfort knowing that soon, she would join him again. That Priam would soon usher them into the afterlife, to join the stars sparkling in the sky as the world held its bated breath at what her successor would do next.

They reached the landing at the top of the stairs, and Ryenne’s heart squeezed as they turned down the familiar hallway leading to the queen’s chambers. She’d been kept informed by members of Mariah’s court about what had happened—what they’d learned, who’d taken her. Where she’d been found.

Once, a long, long time ago, she’d wandered the grounds of Khento, a delicate blonde-haired girl with pigtails and ocean blue eyes. Most of the year it was so cold there in the north, but it had been her home. The place she’d grown from girl to woman, before leaving to become Queen.

Before she’d made any of the mistakes that had all but doomed her country. Mistakes that now had their allume faltering, had Kizar Pirates in their bay for the first time in centuries. Mistakes that forced another young woman through so much agony endured within the same hallowed halls where she’d once known joy.

Even with her body failing, the way she’d failed Onita—the way she’d failed Mariah—made her sick.

A hand squeezed hers, and she tilted her head to meet Kalen’s warm brown gaze. His face was sagging and aged, handsome skin now worn with wrinkles and pockmarks. But he was still beautiful to her, everything she never knew she needed. Even after these centuries, he never ceased to surprise her, to make her laugh. To bring her light when she felt most lost in the dark.

“Your thoughts consume you today, Rey,” he whispered to her, voice cracked and hoarse.

She squeezed him back, shuffling forward. “Just nervous. To see her. To see what I did to her.”

“You did not do this to her. This was all the doing of those lords.”

“I know you always mean well, Kalen,” she said. “But do not lie to me. Not now.”

He didn’t respond. Only squeezed her hand again.

They turned down the final curve to the queen’s suites. The corridor—one Ryenne knew very well, as she’d called it her home for many, many years—smelled of fire and wind as if several hearths had been lit, and then all the windows opened to the mountain air.

Their slow steps took them to just outside Mariah’s doors. Matheo stood there, posture relaxed but eyes alert. Ryenne disentangled herself from Kalen, putting more weight on her cane, giving the young warrior a soft smile.

“Is she awake?”

Matheo nodded, returning her smile. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He turned, knocking twice on the door.

“Mariah, Queen Ryenne is here.”

“Let her in, Matheo.” The feminine voice was muffled behind the wood. It was a voice that once was so strong, so vibrant, and full of fire and life. But now it was dull, carrying an emptiness that twisted Ryenne’s gut into further knots.

She steeled herself. She knew Mariah well, about as well as she knew herself. The last thing she would want to see was pity, even if it wasn’t directed toward her. So Ryenne shoved down her guilt and pushed through the carved gold and white doors.

The foyer was much the same—white and clean, with the glass doors to the parlor study on the right. The study was dusty and unused, which was a bit of a surprise to Ryenne, given the excitement that had danced in Mariah’s eyes when she’d first seen these rooms those many months ago.

But when Ryenne turned back to face the main living area of the suites, when her eyes rested on a woman with a forest in her eyes, she realized that the similarities between this woman and the one who had looked at the study with light in her expression ended with those eyes.

Mariah’s hair was still near black, but what once were long strands spilling down her back was now a blunt bob, just brushing the tops of her collarbones. Collarbones, which were now much too prominent, made clearer by the hollowness of Mariah’s cheeks, the paleness of her skin, the gauntness of her frame. The girl who once was a force of her own, a creature exuding as much strength and power as the men who surrounded her, was now no more than a waif. A shell of her former self.

And it was all Ryenne’s fault.

The click of Ryenne’s cane was the only sound as she hobbled forward, Kalen steady and patient at her side.

Ciana stood rigidly beside the dining table, gaze darting between Mariah and Ryenne. She remembered her decorum at the last moment, dipping her head to Ryenne and dropping into a lackluster curtsy.

It was that same protectiveness Ryenne had seen the day of the Choosing. The same protectiveness that knew, innately, that Ciana and Mariah were destined for each other, in the way only best friends could be.

Ryenne’s heart squeezed as she remembered the first lady of her own court. She’d left Ryenne, many long years ago, but Ryenne still carried her memory with her all these centuries later. That was another person Ryenne was eager to see once her journey on this earth was complete.

But when she looked at Mariah, she knew it would be a bit more time before her successor would be ready to take that final step.

Ryenne swallowed heavily.

“It is good to see you, Mariah.”

Mariah’s throat bobbed. “It’s good to see you too, Ryenne.”

Ryenne . Not My Queen . Tears pricked behind Ryenne’s eyes. Despite everything, all this girl must have endured, she was still, at her core, the true queen in that room.

And they all knew it.

Ryenne hobbled another step forward, moving until she stood before Mariah, bending her stiff neck back to meet those glowing green eyes.

Even though Mariah’s body was weak, her magic still pulsed around her. Ryenne couldn’t remember a time when her eyes had glowed like that, when the magic was so eager to be a part of her that it had danced in her vision.

She lifted a hand, resting it on Mariah’s arm. Squeezed once, gently. “I am so, so sorry?—”

“Please, Ryenne,” Mariah interrupted. There was something else in her expression, something that pulled a tear free from Ryenne’s eyes.

Pain .

“I don’t want you to apologize,” Mariah continued. “I don’t want to talk about the past or what happened. I only want to talk about the future. About what comes next. Where we go from here.”

More of Ryenne’s tears fell, and she didn’t bother to catch them. Qhohena , she prayed silently, this girl has been tested enough. Do not force her to prove herself more .

“Of course,” Ryenne whispered. “Let us talk about what comes next, then. On the balcony?”

Mariah nodded, expression stoic.

Ryenne removed her hand from Mariah’s arm and wiped her eyes. Kalen’s fingers brushed hers, and he pushed a handkerchief into her hand. She turned to give him a brief smile before dabbing her eyes with the soft cotton.

Her consort always knew what she needed, often before she did.

Composing herself, she tucked the handkerchief into the pocket of her full velvet gown. “Help an old woman? I am not as spry as I once was.”

To Ryenne’s delight, that pulled a faint, ghostly smile to Mariah’s lips. She dipped her head, hair falling forward into her eyes, before tucking the ends behind her ears and extending an arm to Ryenne. Together, they walked slowly to the balcony doors, Mariah opening the heavy glass with enough effort to squeeze Ryenne’s chest again.

The two queens—one young, one old—stood on the balcony, breathing in the morning spring air.

“This is my favorite time of year.” Ryenne tilted her head to the sky, closing her eyes. “The smell of the snowbells on the breeze. The eagles nesting in the mountains. Their chicks will hatch soon, and in a few months, we’ll hear their cries as they begin their first flying lessons.”

“Have you seen them?” Mariah asked softly. Ryenne cracked her lids and glanced at the young woman, who watched the sky. “The Attlehon eagles? I’ve heard their wingbeats, but I’ve never actually seen them flying. I’ve often wondered if it’s just a figment of my imagination, something I knew I should hear because I learned of their existence in school but never really heard.”

Ryenne smiled. “Of course, I have seen them. I’ve lived here for over three centuries. But they are hard to spot.”

Mariah turned, head tilting. “Why? I thought they were gold, easy to see.”

Ryenne shook her head. “They are gold when they nest and when they land. But their feathers carry a magic of their own. They refract the light—both that of the sun and the moons—and when they fly, they become all but invisible. The only way you can see them is on an Equinox night—or if they want you to see them.”

Mariah’s brow furrowed. “How do you make them want you to see them?”

“You don’t.” Ryenne brushed a lock of gray hair from her face. “But one day, you will, and it will be the greatest moment of your life.”

Mariah was silent for a moment. “That would be … nice.” She stared at the mountains as if listening for those wingbeats. “I think I would like that,” she murmured.

Ryenne watched Mariah for a few more heartbeats, breathing into the air. “So, the future. No matter what we discuss, I want you to know that there is no timeline. We can take whatever time you need.”

Mariah’s chest rose and fell with a breath. Her hair swirled around her face, eyes darting across the sky, still searching for those invisible eagles in the air.

“I want vengeance. Retribution.” She said the second word with a snarl, a twist to her lips. She turned to meet Ryenne’s gaze. “I never told you about the other side of the magic I carry. About the other goddess who blessed me before I was born.”

Everything stilled inside Ryenne. Her lungs froze, weighed down by the years of her life. Her heart struggled to keep beating, her mind fighting to process Mariah’s words.

“Zadione?” Ryenne whispered. When Mariah nodded, she clasped a hand over her mouth. Impossible .

“The only goddess who has ever spoken to me, who has ever answered my prayers, is the goddess of death. My mother and her family trace their lineages to an ancient line of priestesses—priestesses who worshipped and were blessed by Zadione. My mother carried some of that magic with her; it’s what made her an exceptional healer. And I … I got the equivalent to whatever Qhohena blessed Xara with, long ago. But instead of gold, those threads burn silver, cold as death but wild as the life that leads to it.”

Ryenne was stunned. She almost didn’t believe it, not really. Zadione had locked herself away in Enfara with the Scourge, a self-inflicted banishment for the death and destruction she’d caused to the continent during the First War. All Onitans knew this story.

But as she stared at Mariah, as she watched the light shining in her eyes, she realized … it was true . For it wasn’t just threads of gold that shimmered in her forest depths. There was silver there, too, so vibrant that Ryenne felt like a fool for missing it before.

“That is …” She exhaled heavily, still staring at those eyes.

“I know,” Mariah whispered. “But it’s true. And you know it.”

Ryenne closed her eyes. Breathed again. And nodded.

“I do. I do know it.” She reopened her eyes. “Do you know what it means? To carry the magic of the goddess of life and the goddess of death?”

“No.” Mariah turned back to the mountains. “Do you?” There was a subtle, hopeful note to her question. As if she truly believed Ryenne might have the answers she sought. The answers to who she was and why she existed.

But Ryenne could not lie to her. Not now, not anymore.

“I am sorry, Mariah. I do not.”

The two women stood on that balcony for several minutes in silence, lost in their thoughts and the impossibility of the future that now stared back at them.

“I want to discuss my coronation.” Mariah’s voice, hoarse and tired, broke the silence.

Ryenne again rested her hand on Mariah’s arm. “Whenever you are ready, so am I.” Another pause. “The final bond happened … there, didn’t it?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mariah’s nod. She didn’t pry further; there was no need. She could feel the magic, could feel the change in her very aura.

“I carry one final drop of magic with me. At the coronation, it will become yours. And it will be done. My connection to the earth will end, and my Armature and I will be at rest. Onita will be yours until Qhohena wills it otherwise.”

“Until Qhohena wills it otherwise,” Mariah echoed, still staring at the mountains.

A sound burst through the doors behind them. Something exuberant, and filled with tears, and carrying the faint scent of saffron and cinnamon and cloves.

“Lassie!” Mikael’s bright voice echoed across the balcony, and Mariah whirled. Tears leaped into her eyes, and with more emotion than Ryenne had seen from her, she jolted forward, straight into the cook’s arms.

“ Mikael ,” Mariah choked out through sobs. “I am so fucking happy to see you.”

“Oh my, dearie,” Mikael said, his tears streaming down his freckled face, his usual brown band of leather holding his unruly shock of orange hair from his face. “If you were that hungry, all you had to do was send for me earlier.”

As Ryenne watched the merry reunion, and then joined them for a full breakfast, as she watched Mariah shovel food into her mouth with a desperation that twisted her heart, she wondered how many more mornings like this she would have.

With Mariah, Ciana, Mikael, and Kalen engaged in happy conversation, Ryenne glanced out the balcony window. A smile touched her lips at the golden Attlehon eagle perched upon the railing, watching the festivities within. It met her gaze, blinking once, before lifting into the sky, visible for a few moments until its feathers shifted it into the brightness of morning.