The Stones of Resurrection

by Tameri Etherton

  Beads of sweat trickled down Taryn’s back. After yet another eternity, the doors opened. In a booming voice Taryn was certain they heard in Paderau, the chamberlain announced her companions. Sir Baehlon de Monteferron escorted Lady Faelara, followed by Duke Anje and his son, and finally, Prince Rhoane of the Eleri. The chamberlain offered no explanation why they were accorded a special entrance, nor did he announce Taryn. She fidgeted, uncertain if she should follow the group. When she took a step forward, the guard motioned for her to wait. The soothing tune of her sword did little to quell her racing heart or alleviate the feeling of insecurity that paralyzed her.

  She clutched the sword with both hands, willing herself to stand tall and have courage. The others made their way to the dais, bowing low to the empress. Lliandra stood before the court, resplendent in a gown of glittering gold, welcoming Taryn’s companions. Myrddin stood to her left, looking regal in a midnight blue doublet and black leggings and watching her with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

  Lliandra descended the dais to kiss the cheeks of each of Taryn’s friends. When she finished, she motioned for them to join the princesses. She returned to the raised platform and spoke in a soft voice amplified through ShantiMari to the back of the throne room.

  “As most of you know, a little more than thirty-five seasons ago, I had a son who died in childbirth.”

  A murmur of condolences spread through the crowd, with several figure eights traced in the air above their heads.

  “But only a few knew that I also had a daughter that night.” The crowd quieted. Heads turned toward Taryn, who stood frozen in the doorway, trying to ignore the stares. “Because of certain information I acquired about this child, it was decided that she would be raised innocent of her birthright. My most loyal subject and trusted advisor, the High Priest Brandt kaj Endion, took the child to raise as his own.”

  Lliandra’s voice caught, and she put a hand to her lips. “It is with profound sadness we have learned Brandt was tragically killed upon his return to our great kingdom.” Mutters and nervous twittering bubbled from the crowd. “He died protecting someone he loved as much as Aelinae—my daughter.”

  A sob rose in Taryn’s throat, and she blinked back tears.

  And in that same instant, the sword in her hands vanished.

  One second, she held the hilt with a death grip; the next, it was gone. Not wanting to cause alarm, but panicking all the same, she searched around her as much as she could without actually turning. The guard’s scowl was sharp enough to cut leather.

  She took a deep breath, smoothed her gown, and clasped her robe closed just as Lliandra announced, “Lords, ladies, nobles of Aelinae, today we have gathered to bear witness to the return of Princess Taryn Rose.”

  Trumpets blared from the gallery, startling Taryn. The guard motioned for her to move forward, but her body wouldn’t obey. It took all her will not to turn and bolt from the palace. Just when she thought she might, she looked straight ahead and met Rhoane’s even gaze. A resignation of sorts rested in his eyes, the cautious look of worry she first saw in the cavern, but beyond his fears, she saw his belief in her. Taking one step at a time, Taryn made her way up the long aisle.

  Her empty hands clutched the robe as her mind taunted her. The empress is going to kill you.

  Two songs played in her mind—one a festive refrain, the other harmonizing in dulcet tones. Two songs meant the sword was near. That was enough to calm her for the moment.

  To her right, Lords Tinsley and Aomori beamed their pleasure and clapped politely as she passed. She smiled at them, grateful for the friendly faces. She glanced to her left and saw Lady Celia’s pale face, looking as frigid as a marble bust, hostility clear in her hazel eyes. Beside her, Lord Herbret stood just as immobile, but his glare looked past Taryn to Marissa.

  She pulled her robe tighter, pushed her shoulders back, and walked with her head held high, as Faelara had taught her to do.

  When she reached the dais, she stopped before the empress to curtsey low, almost to the ground.

  “Arise, daughter of Aelinae.” Lliandra motioned for Taryn to join her on the dais. When she turned around to face the crowd, her stomach pinched at all the faces before her. Some of them were delighted, others confused, and even more bore outright hatred. Her confidence faltered.

  Breathe, Taryn. You have every right to be here. Rhoane’s melodic voice soothed her spinning thoughts.

  The sword’s gone. It just vanished. She chanced a glance at him and saw in his mossy eyes the reassurance she needed. A wicked half-smile teased her.

  It cannot have gone far. Be still. It will return when needed.

  “If there is anyone who doubts my claim that this girl, Taryn Rose, is indeed my daughter, let him or her come forward now and state his or her case.”

  An excited twittering rustled in the crowd. Taryn held her breath, waiting for an objection that did not come.

  “Very well, let it be known that all nobles in attendance accept this child as my daughter and one of my legal heirs.”

  Nadra drifted slowly to the floor then, her radiance illuminating the throne room. The audience lowered as one, their heads bent in supplication. When they rose, several of the angry members of court looked at Taryn anew, mistrust slipping from their features.

  Nadra greeted the crowd with gracious words and a loving glance before turning to Taryn. “It is with a happy heart that I see the two of you reunited. On that day so long ago when our paths separated and the fate of this land hung in the balance, it was most difficult to let you leave our side. But now that you have returned, balance will be restored.”

  A crown, the likes of which Taryn had never seen, with radiant tips covered in gems and swags of diamonds, materialized in the air above Taryn’s head.

  “Daughter of Light and Keeper of the Stars, I bestow upon you this crown, made of moonstone and stardust so that all will know your birthright.”

  The crown settled on Taryn’s head, harmonizing perfectly with her cynfar and, thankfully, her sword. Perhaps Rhoane was right. It would return when needed.

  “As you have witnessed, Nadra, Great Mother of all Creation, has accepted Taryn as my child. Her gift of this crown is proof that she is the Child of Light. Ohlin has also accepted Taryn as the daughter of Valterys, Overlord of the West and Lord of the Dark.

  “When she was but a few moments old, her palm was placed upon the very sword Ohlin crafted for his own daughter, so that when she returned, it would know her and reveal her true identity. We have asked the Lord of the Dark to join us today, but I see he has declined.” Sadness echoed in her words. She whispered for Taryn to produce the sword.

  Panic surged through Taryn. “I don’t have it,” she said through a tight smile.

  “What?” Lliandra hissed.

  “It,” Taryn began, unsure how to explain, “just vanished.”

  A storm raged across Lliandra’s features, visible to none but Taryn. The ShantiMari that concealed her age cracked, then smoothed like the surface of a lake. Lliandra opened her mouth to speak and stopped short, her gaze drifting upward to where a sphere of light descended from the glass ceiling.

  The gathered nobles rustled anxiously, their apprehension palpable as Taryn stood on the dais. The light elongated, and she struggled to make out the figure manifesting from the brightness.

  A man stepped forward and embraced Nadra.

  “My dearest Ohlin.” The goddess brushed her lips across the cheek of her eternal mate.

  He cupped her face in his hand, a wistful smile on his face. Then he addressed the crowd. “As you know, I prefer to remain neutral in your affairs. But there are times when I feel compelled to intervene.” He took Taryn’s hand in his, pulling her to stand beside him and Lliandra. “This girl before you is as Empress Lliandra says. She was born in this very palace thirty-five seasons ago. She was raised without any knowledge of you,” he swept his gaze over the nobles, “or her role in your future.” Ohlin nudged her, and she swa
llowed hard, trying to recall the short speech Faelara had written for her.

  “Friends,” she began, hating the screech of nerves in her pitch, “for many long seasons, I lived outside the customs and traditions of your great kingdom. Despite this, I am committed to learning all I can so that we can keep the peace and balance on Aelinae. I ask that you find it in your hearts to accept me as one of your own.”

  “What about her father?” a voice called from the crowd. “Does he, in truth, accept her as his heir?”

  Lliandra answered in a soft voice. “I should hope he does. Perhaps we should ask him, Lord Zakael.” The crowd gasped and moved aside to let him through. A hooded figure followed closely behind. A thrum of ShantiMari flowed over Taryn, and she shuddered against it.

  “You are too bold, Your Majesty,” Zakael said, the sneer on his lips flowing to his words.

  “Am I? For presenting my daughter in an open court? Should I slink around beneath a cloak like Lord Valterys?”

  A ripple of nervous confusion floated through the audience as the hooded figure took off his cloak. Valterys stood not more than ten paces from Taryn. Rhoane stepped forward, but Nadra put out a hand to stop him.

  “My dear Valterys, I was hoping you could be here for today’s ceremony. Do you wish to make a claim on this girl?” Nadra asked.

  Taryn willed herself to stand tall. He wouldn’t dare try to hurt her with so many people around.

  “If she is my daughter, as I’m sure you believe, I want proof.” Valterys glared at Lliandra. “I only knew of one child born that night. He was quite dead when I saw him.”

  Lliandra’s voice dripped sugar, thick enough to sweeten the sourest lemon. “Lord Valterys, you, of all people, should understand why I had to make the decision to send Taryn away.”

  Ohlin stepped down to face Valterys, putting a hand on his shoulder. His dark hair and hazy grey eyes were a softer shade than the Lord of the Dark’s. “The girl is indeed your daughter. Judge her not, for she is innocent in this. Love her as you do your son.”

  Valterys bowed to the god but not before a brief scowl crossed his face.

  Ohlin returned to the dais and stood in front of Taryn. For a long time, he merely looked into her eyes. She met his gaze, feeling light and free. Finally, he inspected the runes that glowed faintly against her skin.

  “When you are ready, come to me that I may add my blessing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The skin near his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “I believe this is yours.” With a flourish of his wrist, the sword materialized, causing a murmur to ripple through the crowd. “I am pleased the sword has chosen you.”

  “Thank you.” She knelt before the god, her legs trembling enough to make her crown rattle. She kept her eyes focused on his boots and steadied herself.

  “It is with great honor and lightness of heart that I bestow upon you this sword as a symbol of your birthright. Arise, daughter of Valterys, Lord of the Dark, and Lliandra, Lady of Light. From this day henceforth, you shall be known as Princess Taryn Rose of House Galendrin, Keeper of the Stars, Eirielle, Child of Light and Dark, Darennsai and betrothed to Prince Rhoane of the Eleri, as prophesied by Verdaine, our daughter.”

  The gathered nobles were silent as he handed her the sword, and she stood to accept it. “Thank you, Great Father, for this gift.” She turned to Nadra. “And thank you, Great Mother, for your gift of my crown. I will do my best to prove worthy of them both.”

  Taryn shrugged back her robe and held the Sword of Ohlin aloft. A shaft of white light lit from the tip, piercing the glass ceiling before disappearing into the sky. Her sword burst into song, joined by the pendant and crown, and filled the throne room with a triumphant melody. ShantiMari coursed through her to the sword, casting a rainbow of light over the walls and gathered guests. Some ducked, others stared in wonder. Taryn looked to the heavens where she hoped Brandt watched with pride.

  A cascade of stars rained down on them, glittering motes settling upon bare skin before dissolving. She lowered the sword and stood, shivering. The sheer force from not only the sword but her power terrified her. The audience stared at her in wild-eyed incredulity. Her heart beat in her throat, and she fought to swallow.

  Finally she found her voice and, after a low bow to the assembled nobles, said the final line of Faelara’s speech, “Let it be known I serve all of Aelinae.”

  Applause broke out, and Taryn choked on a lump of emotion that wedged itself between her heart and her lips.

  Ohlin touched her cheek and whispered, “We are very proud of you, Taryn.” From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Brandt’s spectral form hovering above his old friends, a wide smile on his face. Hot tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she refused to blink them away.

  Ohlin gave Nadra one last embrace before ascending into the cloudless sky.

  Valterys stood before them, false geniality oozing from his clenched smile. In much too loud a voice, he announced, “It is with a happy heart that I accept into my life a daughter.” He addressed Taryn, “Being a woman, of course it is fitting you are presented on the Light Throne, but do not think that means you are unwelcome in the West. There will forevermore be a place in my heart for you. So, too, will there be in my home.”

  He bowed to Lliandra. “It appears, Your Majesty, that you and I both have something to celebrate this day.”

  Lliandra nodded in a gracious gesture. “Yes, my lord, we do. Welcome, Valterys. Welcome, Lord Zakael. You are honored guests.”

  Baehlon moved forward and asked the empress to grant him the honor of serving as Taryn’s champion and protector, surprising everyone, especially the empress. Lliandra made a show of granting his request, even going so far as to produce a scepter out of nothing. Taryn babbled something about being honored, and it was done. Baehlon’s House was forever sworn to hers.

  Next, Myrddin stood before her, his head inclined in supplication, although he didn’t swear fealty to her. The princesses were next, curtseying low to their sister, whispering a few words of encouragement before kissing Taryn’s fingers as they rested on the Sword of Ohlin. Each time their lips touched her skin, a shock of power rushed through her.

  When Marissa bent over her, Taryn flinched but Marissa’s lips did not meet her fingertips. When she rose, there was an open challenge in her lavender eyes, and Taryn winked. A flash of Marissa’s Mari whipped out, but stopped short of harming her. Taryn then shocked everyone, including herself, and bent low, kissing Marissa’s fingertips. Her sister yanked her hand away and stormed to where the other princesses waited. Taryn hid a smirk beneath a mask of confusion.

  Lliandra watched the interplay between her daughters with cool disinterest before addressing the gathered crowd. “Today is a day of celebration and joy. I wish you all much of both. After the parade, there will be feasting until dawn.” She glided down the steps, taking Valterys’s hand in hers. “My dear lord, would you be so kind as to escort me to my carriage? I’d be honored if you would accompany me for the parade.”

  Taryn fidgeted on the dais, not quite sure what to do. Nadra put an arm around her and said, “Welcome home, Taryn.” The goddess brushed her cheek with her fingertips. “Are you well?”

  “This is all very confusing.”

  “You will figure it out. You always do.”

  Lliandra and Valterys were already making their way down the aisle, and Nadra gave her a nudge. “Your turn.”

  “But shouldn’t the princesses go first?”

  “Taryn darling, you are a princess. Now go.”

  Marissa and Zakael strode down the aisle together, followed by Taryn and Rhoane with Tessa and Eliahnna a half step behind them. Rhoane leaned over to whisper in her ear. “You are truly one of us now.” At her puzzled glance, he said, “You, too, have several names.” She smiled in reply, still not quite sure what to make of it all.

  After the parade, Sabina escorted Taryn to her new rooms, talking excitedly the whole time about what they could do now tha
t Taryn’s rank was elevated. When Sabina mentioned Taryn was higher in position than Marissa, and possibly even the empress, her interest piqued. Sabina promised to research the ramifications of Taryn having her own House as well as the newly made position of Keeper of the Stars. Not wanting to appear ungrateful, Taryn thanked her friend, even though she had little interest in the title or crown she wore.

  Exhausted from the morning, she just wanted a chance to relax before being ushered to the garden, but when she reached her rooms, they buzzed with activity. Cora and Ellie stopped unpacking her belongings long enough to change Taryn from her coronation gown into a simpler dress of deep, midnight blue. She argued that she’d like to dress casually in trousers and a blouse, but the girls held firm that the empress would not approve.

  “Well, I don’t approve of all these dresses.” Taryn sulked as they rearranged her hair to fit a smaller, less elaborate crown. When Taryn objected, Ellie ignored her, affixing it to her head with clips that she expertly hid in Taryn’s hair. Ellie’s obvious excitement at Taryn’s rise in station was marred by Cora’s equally apparent disappointment. Her terseness each time she had to say Highness didn’t go unnoticed. Not that Taryn cared if Cora liked her, but having a maid living with her, privy to her daily activities, warranted someone who at least respected her.

  Ellie’s enthusiasm slowly enveloped Taryn. Despite her best efforts, she looked forward to the garden party. For Ellie, nothing could be better than becoming a princess. Whereas the crown and title burdened Taryn, Ellie saw it as more than simply being a princess. To her, it was a chance to better her life, and possibly those of Aelinae’s subjects. Ellie saw beyond the card games and gossip to future world leaders. Her rambling gave Taryn something to think about.