by Kim Stokely
“What?”
I feel a wave of irrational hysteria churning in my gut. So much death. So much betrayal. But then unexplainable miracles as well. It’s too much for my brain to handle. “I have to get out of here.”
He stands easily as I struggle to my feet, but when he attempts to carry me I stop him. “No . . . I have to walk out of this place on my own. I need to leave it behind.”
He points across the plain to where the worst of the gray smoke is coming. “I think we go that way.”
I take a deep breath before leaning on the arm he offers for support. “Let’s go home.”
The sun is halfway to setting by the time we find Naill leading several divisions to plunder what’s left of the Mystic army. He pulls off his helmet, jumps down from his horse and runs toward us.
“Your Majesty!” For once, he is totally unconcerned with protocol. Forgetting to bow, he instead grabs me in his arms. “You are alive! I cannot believe it! We felt sure you had been killed when you’d been transported.” He releases me only so he can take Kyran’s hand. “And you? You mad outlaw! You must be blessed by Ruahk indeed to have survived among the Mystics.”
His enthusiasm helps relieve the weight of worry I’ve been carrying. If he is this energetic and happy perhaps the news isn’t as bad as I fear.
He starts to throw his arm around Kyran then gives me a startled look and drops to his knee. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I should never have touched you so informally.”
“Nonsense.” I offer my hand to help him up, but he takes Kyran’s instead. “I’m glad we have a reason to celebrate.”
“Indeed we do!” Nail shakes Kyran’s hand as he rises. “It is a miracle! I do not yet understand it all.” His eyes are wide with confusion. “One moment the demons were upon us. Then they were stopped by a great light. But the Black Guards began torturing us with visions of our loved ones enslaved or dead . . . and then . . . then . . . .”
“What?” Kyran and I ask at the same time.
“Then the demons were being torn apart, limb from limb. Or else they would let out the most unholy shrieks and disappear.”
“You didn’t see anything else?” I watch the older man closely. “No-thing attacking them?”
He shakes his head. “No, Your Majesty. There was nothing.”
Kyran puts his hands on his hips as he surveys the bodies of Mystic soldiers strewn around us. “What about these? How were they killed?”
The old man lets out the most surprising sound. He laughs. “They turned their swords on each other. On my honor as your loyal servant. It was as if something drove them mad.”
Even after everything that’s happened. The carnage. The pain. My heart is filled with joy. “So none of our soldiers were killed?”
Naill’s grin falters.
“Oh.” I reach out to Kyran for support. Waiting until he wraps his arm around my shoulder before asking, “How many?”
“Only a handful of our cavalry but . . .” The old man lowers his eyes. “I am so sorry, Your Majesty, your father was wounded. He is not expected to survive.”
“Where is he?”
“He is back at the camp. In your tent.” Naill glances up at Kyran. “Take my horse.”
“No need.” The news has given me fresh energy. I visualize my tent and take Kyran with me through the passage. The guards fumble for a moment when we appear before the tent. They both drop to their knees.
“Is my father inside?”
They nod.
I pull back the flap. My grandmother sits on a stool next to the table where my father lies. She lets out a sharp cry when she sees us. “Alystrine!” she starts to rise, then leans down to take my father’s hand. “Geran! She lives! Your daughter still lives.”
My father doesn’t move and from where I stand, I can’t see his face. Kyran guides me forward with gentle pressure on my lower back. I notice Devnet then, sitting in the dark corner by my father’s feet.
My grandmother tries to smile, but her tears get in the way. “Come, Alystrine. He has been asking for you.”
The blanket covering him rises and falls with each shallow breath. Blood stains the area over his stomach. His face, thankfully, is unmarked. His eyes are closed.
I take his hand from Maris. “We’ve won, Geran. Braedon and the Mystics are defeated.”
There’s a pause in his breathing. His eyelids flutter.
“Ruahk fought for us. You should have seen his soldiers! They were incredible!”
His eyes open and he searches for me. I bend so my face is above his. “It’s over now. I promise.”
Geran groans as he takes a deep breath then forces it out so he can speak. “Braedon is dead?”
“Yes. One of Ruahk’s soldiers killed him with a flaming broadsword. I saw it myself.”
His breathing eases. A smile flickers across his lips.
I gasp as he tightens his grip on my fingers. “What is it?”
He coughs. Maris hurries and wipes droplets of spittle and blood from his lips off with a cloth, then kisses his forehead. “Be quiet, my son. All is well now. Save your strength.”
He moans loudly. “Forgive me.”
“All is forgiven, Son.” Maris croons as if she comforts a small child. “Be at peace.”
“No.” He struggles to keep his eyes open and focused on me. “Alystrine. Forgive me.”
A lump is growing in my throat from the tears I’m holding back. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
He growls as he tries to draw in enough breath to speak. “For not believing . . . in you . . . in Ruahk.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. We all had doubts. Even me.” I stare down at my ring, hoping to see some life in it. Some energy I could harness to help heal him, but the stone remains cold and white. Ruahk? Can you help him?
“No . . .” my father gasps. “Braedon is dead and you are queen. I have fulfilled my promise to Etain. I am ready to die.” He reaches up so that he holds my hand in both of his. “I love you, Alystrine.” His voice crackles like dead leaves. “I love you.”
I kiss his cheek. “I love you, too . . . Father. I always have.”
He smiles and nods then lets out a gravel-filled sigh. His hand goes limp in mine as his eyes close. Maris begins to keen softly. Her tears drop along his brow before she lowers herself to the stool.
I sense Kyran behind me and let myself fall back into his arms. I bury myself against his chest and let myself weep for this man I hardly knew.
EPILOGUE
Eighteen Months Later
Old habits die hard and old prejudices die even harder.
I suppose it had been foolish to think once the Mystics were defeated Ayden would be restored to the place of perfection it had been created to be. Mystics still hate the Elders and Elders still mistrust the Mystics. The Commoners? They find themselves caught in the middle yet again.
But with Braedon’s death and Ruahk’s annihilation of the Mystic army, at least we have peace. For now. And with my idea of a tribunal, which now has grown to twelve men and women who travel throughout the land to administer justice, a sense of balance has been restored to Ayden. The people are beginning to believe that I do not rule on any one religion’s behalf, although they know that I myself, am Ruahk’s. After all I have seen, all he has done for me, how could I choose otherwise?
My grandmother helps to lace the corset on my white brocade gown. “I cannot understand you, Alystrine.”
I gasp as she pulls on the ribbons to tighten the fabric together. “What have I done now?”
“Most women are a bundle of nerves when they get married, and they are only saying their vows in front of a few family and friends.” She yanks again. “You are standing before all of Ayden, yet calm as can be.”
My heart flutters for a moment before my mind reaches out for Kyran. In an instant, I am flooded with peace. Whether from him or Ruahk, I don’t know or care. “It’s easy when you know you’re doing the right thing.”
Tamra
sighs like it’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said. My maid’s cheeks turn bright pink when she realizes Maris and I heard her. Flustered, she hurries to answer a knock on the door and lets Quinn and Devnet into the room. Both men wear Elder robes but Quinn’s is the black robe of a portal with gold trim, while Devnet’s is white, also with gold trim.
I’d always dreamed Kennis would walk me down the aisle when I decided to get married, so that’s why I asked Quinn. He carries a part of her inside his heart just as I do. Devnet will also walk me to Kyran, because Geran, his brother and my father, deserves to be recognized as well. Both men look at me with affection and sadness.
Once my grandmother has tied off the laces, Devnet comes forward. “You are a vision, Alystrine.” He kisses me gently on the cheek. “Your father would be so proud.”
When he steps back, Quinn takes my hands. His eyes are filled with tears. “You are extraordinary, just like both your mothers. You carry their beauty and their strength within you.” He too, kisses my cheek.
My ladies-in-waiting arrive, Hanna and Ivah in gowns of deep blue while Siobhan and Bronwyn wear gowns of emerald green. Once we hear the trumpets sound, signaling Kyran has taken his place out on the balcony, we leave my room. My friends are first, including Tamra, then my grandmother. Then me, with Quinn on my right side, Devnet on my left.
A crisp, fresh autumn breeze blows through the open doors that lead out to the balcony. Kyran and I didn’t necessarily want a huge, public ceremony, but we knew Ayden needed it. The people—Mystics, Commoners and Elders—all need to see our wedding. That I, Queen Alystrine, daughter of the Elder, Geran and Queen Etain could happily marry Kyran, a Mystic and brother of the man who killed her mother. Hopefully, it will bring another level of healing and trust to this still-divided world.
Although I can’t see them, I hear the jubilant roar of thousands gathered in the courtyard below, spilling out into the city, as the trumpets announce my arrival. I let my ladies-in-waiting walk out first, pausing an extra moment before I step through the doorway.
Kyran stands at the end of an aisle of dark purple flower petals. I wonder if his heart skips a beat as mine does when our eyes meet. Devnet and Quinn walk me halfway toward him before I stop and give them each a kiss. They take their place along the balcony next to Kyran.
The noise of the crowd seems to dim as Kyran reaches his hand out to me. In that moment, I see no one else. Only him. This man who has forgiven me when I didn’t deserve it and who loves me more than his own life.
Alone, and with a full heart, I walk down the petal-strewn aisle and take his hand.
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Of all the things Kim loves about writing novels, talking about herself in the third person is not one of them. She lives in Nebraska with her three fur babies in a house filled with instruments that only her husband of thirty years knows how to play. She thoroughly enjoys it when he does. Except for the banjo. Even the dogs get tired of it after the second song.
Please visit my website @ www.kimstokely.com to learn about upcoming presentations and performances.
Or friend me on Facebook:
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I can sometimes be found on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/KStokelyWrites
BOOKS by Kim Stokely
YA FANTASY
The Portals of Ayden Trilogy
A Shattered Moon (Book One)
Where Shadows Lie (Book Two)
The Light Unleashed (Book Three)
CONTEMPORARY
The Seasons of Marigold Manor
Winter Trees
Spring Rains
BIBLICAL FICTION
Woman of Flames
In the Shadow of the Queen
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Authors spend most of their time staring. We’re either staring at the computer, praying for inspiration; or we’re staring off into space, hoping our characters will tell us where their story is going next.
Occasionally, after we’ve finished writing our first or second drafts, we share our stories with people who have proven themselves trustworthy. These are the people who read our words and tell us honestly what works, and what doesn’t. They look for the flaws, not because they want to tear us down, but because they want to help make the work even better. And so it is with great humility that I take the space here to thank Margaret Lukas, Shannon Smiley, Kayleen Meckle, Victoria Grous and Bryan Hankins. I’m a writer but sometimes words aren’t enough to express my gratitude.
There are also people who may not have read the unfinished pages of this novel, but they have read other works of mine and provided me with the encouragement I needed to keep writing. For this gift I want to especially thank Mel, Abby and Kira. After spending a fantastic week with you all in the Caribbean, I was motivated to pick up this story again and get it finished. And then there’s Laura H. who consistently prays for me and cheers me on; Janet and Steve P. who always inspire me; Linda D. who sat at Panera and brainstormed titles with me over coffee; and Linda H., who is such a bundle of energy, love and support, I don’t know what I’d do without her friendship!
I am indebted to Anna Weir for her story edits and proofreading. So very grateful to have you for my editor!
Of course, I have to thank my husband, John. He’s my Kyran. Devoted, loving and my biggest encourager. I only pray I make him half as happy as he makes me each day.
And finally and most importantly, I thank my God. “My soul magnifies the Lord! He has done great things for me!”
