The Stones of Resurrection

by Tameri Etherton

  Lliandra stood so suddenly that Taryn jumped. She went to the window, rubbing her arms as if cold. A minute passed in silence as Taryn waited for Lliandra to continue, all the while debating if protocol allowed her to comfort the empress. The woman looked frail and alone as she stared at the unchanging scenery. She might be hanged for it, but Taryn couldn’t just watch her shiver. Compassion won out, and she wrapped a blanket around Lliandra’s shoulders.

  “You are kind.” Lliandra’s breath emptied in a sigh. “That just might be enough.” She pulled the blanket tight over her shoulders.

  “Might be enough for what?”

  Lliandra ignored her question. “Valterys used me to give him a son who would hold both the power of Light and Dark. He’d discovered an ancient translation of the Eiriellean Prophecy and was certain our child would be the one.”

  Taryn brought Lliandra another glass of trisp, mentally making the connection between the two stories.

  “Drink this, Your Majesty. I see this is difficult for you. Please, don’t continue on my behalf.”

  “It’s all on your behalf, little one.” Lliandra took a sip before continuing her story. “On a night ravaged by heavy rains, I delivered a stillborn son. My heart ached for the death of the little prince, but a part of me rejoiced that Valterys would never be able to take him from me and corrupt him with his vile Dark teachings.” She turned misty eyes on Taryn. “You’ve met his son Zakael, you’ve witnessed the cruelty he’s capable of, but trust me when I say I know all too well how he can beguile you with an endearing smile while simultaneously ripping out your heart with his bare hands.”

  Taryn shuddered at the empress’s words. That was exactly what Zakael had done to Rhoane in her nightmare.

  “While we were mourning the death of the prince, the midwife cried out that there was another child. It was bittersweet that I gave birth to a baby girl that night. A girl who showed all the signs of having both Shanti and Mari. An anomaly. The child of prophecy born from Light and Dark.”

  “What did you do? Did Valterys find out and take her?”

  Lliandra’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Valterys never found her. I sent her away with a trusted advisor before anyone knew there had been a second child. The midwives were compelled to forget about the girl.”

  “What happened to her?” Taryn’s pendant vibrated with alarming force. She could taste the wine she drank in the back of her throat. Details and memories were coalescing in a most disturbing way.

  “She and her guardian escaped, but somehow Valterys found out about the second child and has been looking for her ever since.”

  Taryn recalled Zakael in the cavern, demanding Brandt return something to his father. Her stomach roiled.

  “Taryn, that baby girl was you.” Lliandra watched her face, studied her reaction.

  Her pendant burst into song as if finally released from its tethers.

  Taryn’s knees buckled, and she swayed dangerously close to the wall of glass. With surprising strength, the empress caught her and settled her in a chair.

  “It can’t be. I’m not that girl. I’m nothing—a nobody.” The jubilant song drowned out all sound. She grabbed her head, demanding quiet in her mind. Her thoughts scattered and then swirled around the muted tunes. The glass of sweet wine shook when she brought it to her lips. “It isn’t possible.”

  “It is, Taryn. Nadra and I sent you to live far away, where Valterys could not find you. I never knew where you went, but I watched as you grew into a lovely young woman.”

  “Why? How?”

  Lliandra pulled a looking glass from her pocket. “With Nadra’s help, I was able to see you from time to time.” Tears spilled from her eyes. “I missed so much of your life, Taryn. Now that you’ve returned, we can be together.”

  “Brandt,” Taryn said with an ache that burned clear to her soul, “is he my grandfather?”

  “In blood, no. But his love for you is real. Never, ever think for one moment that he isn’t what you know him to be in your heart.”

  Brandt was not her grandfather. Lliandra and Valterys were her parents.

  She went numb. Memories of her childhood with Brandt raced through her mind alongside images she didn’t yet understand, as if her past and future blurred into one and then winked out. The flimsy fabric of her dress suffocated her. Through a fog of confusion and tears, Lliandra spoke to her, but the words drifted away unheard. Without asking permission, she paced around the room until her heart quieted, and the rest of the story unfolded before her.

  “If Brandt took me away to protect me from my father, why did he bring me back? Why now?”

  “You are an adult, Taryn. Your power is fully realized.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me at Paderau? Why make me wait?”

  Lliandra avoided looking at Taryn, her hands clasping and unclasping several times before she replied. “You needed time to understand this world. I also wanted you to have a chance to meet your family without the obligations of a title.” Lliandra’s features softened. “You were raised far from home. I thought it best you eased into your new life.”

  Suddenly the realization hit her. “Oh my God, I have sisters!” And then, “I have a brother. Holy fuck, I have a twin. Had.” She dropped into a chair. “This is a lot to take in. I went from an orphan to having an entire family in two minutes.”

  Lliandra knelt before her and pulled Taryn into her arms. Odd details crystallized in her mind. Lliandra smelled of lilacs and roses. And even though Lliandra was slight, her frame was strong as she held Taryn. The ShantiMari she saw crisscrossing Lliandra’s face faltered for a moment and then snapped back in place.

  “My daughter, you always had a family, and now you are finally home.”

  “That’s what Rhoane said. Does he know?”

  “Of course. So does Myrddin, Faelara, Baehlon, and Anje. They were sworn to secrecy, even from telling you.”

  “What about Hayden and the princesses?”

  “No one else but those few know who you truly are. They are my most trusted friends and have known about you since your birth.”

  “I don’t know what to say, or do. This is a total shock.”

  “Tomorrow, I will present you to the court. My seamstress, Margaret Tan, tells me your gown is ready.”

  Just the thought of a formal presentation to the court, where Taryn would be acknowledged by Lliandra as her daughter, overwhelmed her. Paralyzed her.

  “We’ll keep the ceremony simple. There’s no need to elaborate as to where you’ve been for thirty-five seasons. We’ll focus on your return.” Lliandra rambled aloud about the details of the ceremony, but Taryn barely heard.

  She had a family.

  “I’ve asked your father to be here, as well.”

  Valterys.

  Taryn’s insides quailed with a deep trembling.

  The more Lliandra spoke, the farther away her freedom slipped. Leaving Talaith was no longer an option. The betrayal stung. Brandt should have told her. Or one of the others. Royal command or no, they could’ve given a hint or two to prepare her for this.

  “What if I don’t want to be a princess? Can I say no to this anomaly thing?”

  “You are who you are, Taryn. You cannot deny that.”

  Taryn massaged her temples, wincing against the throb in her head. “I don’t know who this person is that you think I am. What if I’m not her?” She looked up at Lliandra.

  “I can sense your power from here. You are the Eirielle. You are my daughter. Whether you choose to accept this or not, it remains so.”

  Taryn moved to look out the windows. The surf glowed white in the moonlight. If only Brandt had told her.

  As if reading her thoughts, Lliandra said, “Brandt did as he was told. He raised you without any knowledge of Aelinae or your birthright to protect you. He is your savior, Taryn. He gave up his life to keep you safe. Do not mistake his actions.” Lliandra’s voice was stern, but Taryn heard the love she had for Brandt.


  “Faelara.” Taryn turned to look at the empress. “Brandt was her father?”

  “She knew the risks involved and wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Taryn’s chest tightened as a wave of emotion swept over her. She wanted to weep, to scream, to rail against Lliandra, to run to her sisters, to see Rhoane. “What do you want from me?”

  “Does this mean you accept who you are?”

  “I don’t know what to think right now.”

  Lliandra put her arms around her, resting her face against Taryn’s cheek. Sudden images flared in her mind: a dark night, Lliandra’s screams of pain, the first baby, born dead. After that, it was a blur of faces and figures rushing around the birthing chamber.

  Then there was Brandt, younger and more fit, but the man she knew as her grandfather. He stood with Nadra as Lliandra cried out in joy at the birth of the second child. A bright light shone forth from the infant.

  Lliandra’s face crumbled into tears when Nadra took the baby from her mother’s arms, and placed a tiny hand on the pommel of the sword. Songs burst inside Taryn’s mind as if she were there again, touching the sword. Nadra kissed the infant before giving her to Brandt.

  He bent low over his empress in farewell and then left the room with the tiny thing in his arms. Rhoane, looking as handsome and young as he did that very evening, followed close behind.

  The scene changed, and Taryn saw Valterys stride into the chamber. Upon being presented with his stillborn son, he raged at Lliandra, vowing revenge. The violence he inflicted on her that morning wasn’t physical, but much longer lasting.

  Lliandra pulled away. “That was the last time I saw you until the ball at Paderau. You can try to deny this or you can embrace it with all the power you possess. I warn you, denial will not make it so.”

  Taryn searched Lliandra’s eyes, seeing in them the heartbreak she suffered when Taryn was taken away. “I’ll bring the sword tomorrow. Is there anything else I need to do?”

  Relief spread across Lliandra’s face. “Nothing more than carry yourself with dignity. I will announce to the court that my long-lost daughter has returned, and you will be home, finally, as my daughter and a princess.

  “Faelara will help you in the morning. Right now, I want to discuss those marks on your hand.” Taryn instinctively hid her hand beneath her gown. “I know they’re there; you cannot hide them from me.” Lliandra studied the runes. “They are incomplete. Tell me, Taryn, do you understand the meaning of these bonds?”

  “I know they mean Rhoane and I are connected in some way and that we can read each other’s thoughts, but beyond that I’m not sure.”

  A discreet knock at the door interrupted Lliandra’s next words. Both women looked up to see Rhoane enter with the footman. “Ah, Rhoane, exquisite timing. I’m afraid I’ve given our dear Taryn much to think about this evening. Will you see that she gets to her rooms safely?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  Taryn touched Lliandra’s arm. “You were going to tell me about these bonds.”

  “Rhoane can tell you what you need to know. I’ve burdened you with enough for one evening. Sleep well, my darling daughter. I’ll see that your rooms are moved while we are at the crowning ceremony.”

  “Why do you have to move my rooms?”

  “Because you will be a princess. Your apartments must reflect this change in status.”

  Taryn shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand court politics.”

  “I sometimes wish I didn’t understand them so well.” Lliandra turned to Rhoane. “Thank you for taking care of my little girl.” She tapped Taryn’s cynfar. “I felt your presence with her, always.”

  Taryn wrapped her fingers protectively around the pendant. “What do you mean?”

  “Even before the bonding, you and I were connected through your cynfar. While you were away, I could feel your happiness and your sorrow. I never knew what you were doing, but I knew what you were feeling,” Rhoane explained.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little disturbing how all of you could spy on me and I had no idea you even existed?” She walked to the door and turned back to Lliandra. “I’d appreciate it in the future if you’d grant me the courtesy of privacy.”

  “You are a princess now. Privacy is a rare commodity for us all.” Lliandra’s voice was soft and full of sorrow.

  Instead of going to her rooms, Taryn asked to walk while she processed everything Lliandra had told her. They strolled through the vast gardens, Rhoane keeping the conversation to a minimum, speaking only to point out a certain flower or plant he thought Taryn might like.

  They passed fountains and hedges cut in ornamental shapes. Their steps crunched on crushed seashell paths, echoing in the quiet night. Eventually they made their way through a tall maze at the outer edge of the garden, where they stood beside a low wall overlooking the ocean.

  A soft breeze cut through the summer heat, and Taryn shivered. Rhoane moved close behind her, skimming his hands down her bare arms, wrapping them around her waist. It would be too easy to give in to the delicious feel of his embrace, to sink back and drown in the familiar scent of him.

  Reluctantly, she pulled away to face him. “Rhoane, don’t. You’re promised to another.”

  “Taryn,” he whispered, “you are my betrothed.”

  The words hung between them, Taryn not trusting herself to speak.

  “Does this displease you?”

  “It pleases me very much.” If he could feel the rapid pace of her heart or the tightening of her chest, he wouldn’t have had to ask. “I never thought I’d hear those words said to me.”

  His lips touched hers, gentle, inquisitive. Sound vanished as her blood pulsed in her ears. Taryn surrendered to the kiss, letting go of the control she’d fought to hold on to for so long.

  Thrilling sparks of fire blazed through every nerve, pooling in a knot below her belly button. Lliandra’s words were a distant memory as Taryn sloughed off her disquiet and allowed herself to be in the moment. Rhoane’s kiss deepened, and she opened herself to him. There was no Aelinae, no Earth, nothing but the two of them. They floated in a sphere of their own making, their hands and lips and bodies making up the earth and stars.

  A need, deep and low and powerful, tugged at her. Taryn raked her nails up his tunic to bury them in his hair. The silky softness of his curls undid her and she moaned against his mouth.

  He pulled back, eyes lidded, and left her breathless, wanting more. Much more. A thousand questions twirled in her thoughts, but one pushed to the forefront. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “How can I be your betrothed? I’m not Eleri.”

  “You are much more than either Eleri or Aelan.” He traced a finger along her jaw, running his thumb over her lips.

  A jag of excitement rippled beneath her skin, alighting her senses, heightening her need. She stared at his eyes, focusing on his words, but not his lips. These emotions were too new, too raw for her to contain. One glance at those lips that made her knees go weak and she’d be lost. Was already lost. The thought terrified her.

  “When I was born,” Rhoane continued, a shiver echoing in his words, “the Eleri goddess Verdaine prophesied that I would leave my people and live among the Aelans. I would be an exile, a sheanna, among the Eleri. I would live as an outcast in both my land and that of the Aelans, never fully accepted by either, but it was also said that one day a child would be born of the Light and Dark. A very special child who would need my help if she were to succeed in her quest to bring balance back to the world.”

  “You left your people? That must be awful.”

  “It is for a purpose greater than my own.” He smiled, and it melted her insides as surely as a flame to chocolate. “You, Princess Taryn, are the one Verdaine prophesied when I was born.”

  “So you believe I’m this anomaly—the Eirielle.”

  “I do.”

  “You gave up a kingdom for me…” She spoke more to herself than to him, her
words trailed away on the breeze.

  “What I gained is worth more than all the crowns in the world.”

  Everything Lliandra had told her, coupled with Rhoane’s revelation, was too much for Taryn to bear. The responsibility settled heavy upon her with crushing permanence. There had been signs—the cavern, Rhoane’s cryptic words about his betrothed, Baehlon’s insistence she learn to master the sword—all of it threatened to drown her.

  Tiny lights blinked on the ocean, a ship sailing into Talaith’s harbor most likely, and for one impossible moment Taryn saw herself running from the palace and stowing away. Except, she had never run from a challenge in her life and wasn’t about to start now. She needed time. Time to sort through her feelings for Rhoane. Time to understand what it was Lliandra expected of her. Time to accept her fate.

  Of everything she’d been given, time was the only luxury she was denied.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Taryn stood outside the throne room, wearing the gown Margaret Tan had brought to her that morning. When she moved, the fabric changed color from silver to ice blue to pale pink. Tiny diamonds glittered and winked with each swish of the skirt, sending rainbow prisms dancing along the walls. More exquisite than anything Margaret Tan had made for her, it was fancier by far than any of the gowns she’d seen the princesses wear. A silver robe trimmed in white fur and dotted with more diamonds trailed several feet behind her. Taryn gripped the sword under the robe.

  Faelara stood with the others, speaking in muted tones while they waited to be announced. She’d arrived at Taryn’s rooms early to help with the preparations, overseeing everything from how Taryn wore her hair to what she ate for breakfast. Taryn was grateful she’d had the time with her. It had given them an opportunity to talk about Brandt. At Taryn’s attempt to apologize for being insensitive, Faelara waved her off. But Brandt gave up his family for her; her guilt ran deep.

  The pounding of the chamberlain’s heavy staff brought Taryn back to the present, making her tremble. In a matter of moments, she would be presented to the Crystal Court. Trumpeted fanfare heralded Lliandra and her daughters into the throne room. An eternity later, when the crowd quieted, the empress spoke eloquently to the gathered nobles, calling the occasion “auspicious” but saying nothing about her missing daughter. She flattered them and joked with Myrddin about the passing of time.