by Meg Anne
The fourth branch, Fire, was painted in the palest shades of rose to the deepest of reds. Fire was always a representation of passion; however, it was best known for its power to destroy, and as such this branch was where the Rasmirin resided. The rooms were generally stark, but not without beauty. Since the warriors require so much room for training and their barracks, the only times the females of the Palace would use this wing was for one of the annual festivals.
The final wing was for Spirit and was reserved for the Damaskiri and her Circle. Decorated in shades of purple and gold, it was associated with the force that animates and breathes life into all things. As the only one capable of tapping into this power and the strongest of all of the Mother’s Chosen, the Damaskiri was the personification of this branch of magic. Helena had found it hard to associate herself with this role, but the unmistakable peace she had found in this wing, compared to all the others, was enough for her not to question it.
She let her fingers brush against a lavender bloom that was spilling down from a planter above as she made her way out to the garden.
She stopped suddenly, forgetting about the parade of people trailing behind her, and tried to take in the beauty that surrounded her. After only a few weeks, Helena was already certain she would never become immune to the splendor of the Palace. Its numerous towers met the sky and disappeared behind clouds, and the creamy marble sparkled in the sun making it appear to glow. It was surrounded on all sides by gardens specializing in the most beautiful flowers and trees from around the realm.
Helena’s fingers were twitching with excitement at the idea of one day being able to explore them, and perhaps plant a few of her own favorites, but for now, she would have to settle with the glimpses she could catch as she was escorted by or through them.
Timmins chose that moment to rush to her side, “Is all well, Damaskiri?”
She nodded and gifted him with a small smile, “Yes, I simply couldn’t help but enjoy the view. Doesn’t it take your breath away?”
Timmins’ eyes wandered over the scene before him, and he gave her an indulgent smile, but she could tell it didn’t call to him as it did her.
She laughed softly, “It’s alright, Timmins, perhaps it is merely in my nature to be impressed by such grandeur.”
Eyes twinkling Timmins replied, “I think you’ll find, Damaskiri, that your nature will be the most spectacular beauty of them all.”
She beamed at the compliment, and held her arm out to him, “Shall we continue on, Advisor?”
He nodded, taking her arm and gently winding it around his own.
“Do you remember what we discussed about the welcoming ceremony?”
Helena was slow to nod, “I believe so.”
Patiently he repeated himself. “First, you will greet your people. You will wish them the blessings of the Mother and thank them for coming to celebrate your name day. Then you will greet each representative of the royal houses; you will give them the same welcome. Finally, you will present your Circle, and then the males who are of age who wish to declare themselves as prospective mates will step forward and present you with a traditional courtship gift.”
She felt herself stiffen at the prospect. What if no one came forward? Worse what if none of them appealed to her? She tried to quash the panic before it overwhelmed her. Her Circle had only briefly touched upon the process of her Mate’s selection, but Timmins had assured her that a Mate had always been found.
If Timmins’ had noticed her brief hesitation, he did not mention it. They continued their way through the Palace courtyard and to the platform that had been constructed for the Festival. Helena marveled at the beauty and simplicity of the display. The platform had been erected between a series of ancient trees, whose branches were now heavily sprinkled with twinkling lights. In between the two main trees sat a massive throne. The dark wood was polished to a high shine, and its back was comprised of five wooden pillars which twisted up into the trees so as to appear as if the throne was made and anchored by them. The only other decoration was a lovely lavender cushion.
Helena’s eyes drifted over the crowd intimidated by the sheer number of people that had traveled to bear witness to the ascension of their new ruler. She picked out a familiar coppery head and smiled. Gillian, daughter of the previous Damaskiri, had become a fast friend. Helena loved her quick wit and admired how she was all dainty grace and femininity. In sharp contrast to her bright copper curls, Gillian had almost translucent green eyes and fair milky skin. Today she was a vision in an emerald green silk dress that clung to each of her curves.
Helena had initially felt gangly and awkward next to her when they first met, but Gillian had put her instantly at ease, despite being in mourning herself, and had winked conspiratorially, promising to tell her everything about everyone.
Gillian saw Helena and waved cheerfully. Knowing it would be unwise to do the same, Helena simply dipped her head in acknowledgment.
Smoothing down the soft velvet fabric of her own dress, Helena whispered softly, “How do I look?”
Darrin had moved to stand at her left side and overheard her. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he answered, “You are a vision, Mira. Truly.”
She smiled up at him and decided that the hour Alina had forced her to get ready was worth it.
“It’s time, Damaskiri,” Timmins said softly.
Helena ascended the stairs to the platform and made her way to the center. The crowd, which had been chatting excitedly went quiet for a brief moment and then roared in approval at their first glimpse of their future ruler.
Helena’s aqua gown perfectly matched the color of her eyes, which were also emphasized by thick, sooty lashes. The gown left her shoulders and neck bare, displaying a large expanse of her creamy skin. She wore no adornment, save for a simple gold pendant that was symbolic of the Mother. Alina had twisted her long hair atop her head into a riot of loose curls and braids that were anchored by beautiful pearls. As a final touch, Alina had lightly dusted her skin with a golden shimmer, which under all of the twinkling lights, made her luminous.
Standing in front of her people, and hearing their approval, was the first time Helena had truly let herself believe this was happening.
“Welcome,” her voice thundered, and she realized that they must have used magic to project her voice so that she may speak normally, but all could hear.
The crowd instantly settled.
“It is with great honor and privilege that I stand before you today. Thank you for traveling so far to celebrate my name day, and my return home.” The crowd cheered loudly at that, and Helena mentally congratulated Timmins.
“May the Mother keep you safe, and bless your days with light and happiness,” she continued.
“May the Mother protect you always and grant you her eternal wisdom,” they chanted in response.
Helena turned towards the bowers that held the representatives of the royal families for the other six realms.
“Tigaera welcomes its sisters today, and thanks you humbly for gracing us with your presence. May the Mother bless your lands, as she has ours, and keep your days filled with light and happiness.”
With those formalities concluded, her Circle moved to stand beside her. One by one they came forward, repeating the vows that they had made to her a few weeks prior. This time, however, she did not repeat her vows to them. When she had asked why Timmins had informed her that it would be a show of weakness of her part to make promises to those that served her. Helena had not understood and was still uncomfortable that she merely sat there while they proclaimed themselves bound to her.
Rising, Kragen and Darrin moved to stand on either side of her. Joquil and Timmins moved to the stairs greeting the eleven males that were making their way towards her to present themselves for consideration.
The crowd seemed to murmur in surprise at one of the suitors. Helena narrowed her eyes and tried to determine who it was that caused the commotion.
As with everyth
ing else related to the formal ceremonies during the Festival, Timmins had briefly explained the tradition of gift giving.
‘It is a tradition that goes back to the days of the Old Ones, Damaskiri. A suitor must declare his intent with a gift of magic. It is said that while the Festival lasts for seven days, and the suitors will continue to vie for the position during that time, when she receives the gift of her true mate, a Damaskiri will know instantly.’
‘How does a man know that he could be the true Mate?’ Helena had asked.
Timmins leaned back in his chair, pondering the question for a moment, ‘Well, it would be naïve to think that all that declare themselves do so without thought of the power such a position holds. However, just as your Circle can be determined from your birth, like will call to like. The Mother creates perfect mates for her Chosen, it is why there is only one, and it is why the Damaskiri has always found hers. It is crucial that a Damaskiri finds that bond before she can truly understand what it means to rule.’
‘Not everyone finds their mate though, Timmins.’ Helena had whispered, thinking of Miriam and those that forsake the potential of finding their mates to serve in a Circle.
‘No, not everyone,” he had agreed softly, sympathy and understanding laced into each word, ‘But the Damaskiri’s magic is much stronger than the Mother’s other Chosen, it would only make sense that her Mate’s would be too.
‘They were made to find each other, Damaskiri. It is said that the strongest and truest power is love…’
Timmins had trailed off then, but his words had left her unsettled for days. The idea of love happening so quickly seemed foreign to her, but then again, she had never been in love. She had pushed it out of her mind and had not thought about it again until today.
He had also insisted that she was to remain seated while they presented their gifts. Helena refused.
‘But, Damaskiri, that would suggest that you consider them to be equals. Until your Mate proves himself and is selected, you cannot show such deference.’
‘These men will humble themselves before me and their entire realm. I will not subject them to unnecessary displays of power or pride. It is my heart they are trying to claim, Timmins, and if that does not allow them to be my equal, then your ceremony is flawed and will be changed.’
He had stared at her in surprise, admiration glowing in his blue eyes. ‘Very well, Damaskiri.’
She stood as the first suitor walked to her throne. His dark eyes widened in surprise, and the crowd’s echoing murmurs seemed a dull roar.
She offered him a soft smile, and he closed the distance between them. He went to kneel before her, but she placed her hand on his shoulder and stopped him with a quick shake of her head.
Realizing that she would meet him face to face, as equals, he flushed with pleasure. He was younger than she was but tall. Given the state of his well-worn but sensible clothes, she would guess he came from a trade family, and that his gift of magic had been a surprise to them all.
Swallowing quickly, he uttered the formal declaration, “Damaskiri, may the Mother open your heart to me and allow our souls to find the one they were created for.” He said the words with soft earnestness, sweat beading on his brow.
She noticed his hands trembling slightly as he removed the small globe that was concealed in his pocket.
“For you, Damaskiri,” he said shoving it into her hands quickly. Helena looked into the globe and saw that it had been enchanted to contain a miniature ball with the people twirling and dancing within. She held it up to her ear and could hear the soft strains of music.
Delighted she studied him with a new appreciation, “What is your name?”
“Teramos,” he replied nervously, “But my friends call me Amos, Damaskiri.”
“Thank you, Amos, it is beautiful.”
His cheeks flamed with pride, and he quickly shuffled away.
The rest of the suitors were presented without much to distinguish themselves, with the exception of the last two.
She was trying not to fidget when she heard the crowd start to stir again. She felt, rather than saw him come forward. It was as if her body was equally hot and cold at the same time, and she shivered in response. He moved to stand in front of her, and she looked up, and up, to meet his gaze.
His hair was obsidian, smoothed back off his sculpted face. His face was all hard angles, and he had steely gray eyes which stared into hers without a hint as to the emotion behind them. His lips were full and inviting, but with none of the lines around them to suggest he was prone to smiling.
Her eyes continued their perusal, greedily drinking in the golden skin and heavy muscles of the man before her.
“Damaskiri,” he murmured, his voice a low growl.
She felt an answering response low in her stomach.
“May the Mother open your heart to me and allow our souls to find the one they were created for,” he continued gray eyes boring into hers.
At his words, her heart started beating more quickly.
His lips quirked as if he knew the effect he was having on her, and he raised his hand as though to touch her. She heard Darrin and Kragen shift in response and watched him still.
He looked over her shoulder, meeting the gaze of her two warriors. Looking back at her, he then looked down into his hand.
Her eyes followed his and saw a perfect white bloom resting in the palm of his hand. She had never seen a more perfect magnolia bloom in her life. The velvety petals were brilliantly white, and the fragrance heady.
“Magnolias are my favorite,” she whispered, eyes shyly meeting his.
A dimple flashed in his cheek, and its appearance instantly transformed his face, “I know.”
She laughed at his audacity, “How?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I have dreamed about you since I was a wee lad?” He asked, deadpan.
She tilted her head to the side, her laughter making her eyes twinkle, “No.”
He shrugged, as though he had expected as much.
“I may have bribed someone.”
She laughed again in shocked amusement, “I’ll bet you did. What is your name?”
“Von, Damaskiri.” He replied, in the same deep growl.
“Thank you, Von, I shall treasure it, since you did go to so much trouble to ensure I would like it.”
He nodded at her, a small smile playing about his sculpted mouth, and with a last glance, he started away.
As he stepped away, she heard the hissing of the crowd. She narrowed her eyes again in disapproval. He must have been the one they were reacting to earlier. She was not pleased that they would feel they had the right to judge anyone who was presenting themselves to be her mate.
She studied the crowd with a frown. The hissing continued, and someone went so far as to throw something in Von’s direction.
“ENOUGH!” she shouted, icy anger wrapping itself around her.
Von stopped mid decent, and looked back at her; black brow lifted in surprise.
“How dare you treat one of your brothers this way,” she bit out, her voice a whip, “it is not for you to judge or determine the worthiness of another. The Mother and her Vessel are the only ones with the authority to do so.”
“You will treat each other with respect and deference, especially those who humble themselves and their pride as they offer themselves to be my Mate.”
The crowd was shifting, ashamed and in awe of the woman before them.
“I am to be your Kiri, and my Mate will be my equal, you will not,” she paused, eyes singling out the troublemakers, “in any way harm what is mine.” Her voice had dropped to a ragged whisper.
With that proclamation, the entire assembly gaped. She had all but declared him as her choice, and she had spent less than three minutes with him.
Shaking with rage, Helena finally realized what she had done. Horrified at the display of anger, so unfamiliar to her, she looked helplessly over her shoulder at Darrin.
He w
as frowning at Von slightly and looked back towards her, green eyes glowing with some unnamed emotion. She turned her gaze to Timmins and Joquil, certain their reaction would help her gauge how terrible of a mess she had made. She jerked in surprise expecting twin expressions of disapproval. Was that pride? She wondered idly.
The final suitor approached her hesitantly, and she felt her lips curl into an amused smile. It was Gillian’s twin brother Micha.
“That was some display, Damaskiri,” he whispered, with a twist of his own lips.
She smiled ruefully into green eyes that were identical to his sister’s. “I’m sure I just made quite a mess of things.”
He shook his head, “No, Helena. You just showed your people the depth of strength that resides within you. You established, with a few words, what you expect of them and that you protect what is yours. They love you already.”
She rolled her eyes, “So what have you brought me?”
He chuckled at her teasing, and continued lightly, “May the Mother open your heart to me and allow our souls to find the one they were created for.”
He then held out a beautifully illuminated book. She accepted it with reverence, gently turning the pages. Each illustration moved, the characters literally coming to life on the page.
“Ooh,” she whispered in wonder.
“It is a book of fairy tales. I figured since you grew up so far away from your people and our history, this might be a way for you to learn about your culture.” His voice was soft and sincere.
Eyes glittering with tears she met his eyes, “Thank you Micha, I have never loved anything more.” She hugged the book to her chest.
He nodded, smiling in relief and made his way off the stage.
Suddenly, Helena felt exhausted. The weight of all those people staring at her, in addition to the emotions of the afternoon, were starting to bear down on her. Joquil moved forward and released the crowd to the feast that would start in the tents set up in the gardens. As he spoke lights began to glow in the garden, illuminating the way.
Timmins hurried over to her.
