Nastasha watched from the balcony of the Royal Academy’s library as Elaina, Jaimin, Alethea and Tori welcomed the heroes from the south. Seeing the group come back without Mascarin somehow provided closure for her. She didn’t cry—that whole day, not once.
“What did you do with his body?” Nastasha asked Alessa in the corridor.
“We never found his body,” Alessa said. “I’m sorry. The heat of the blaze was so intense.”
“It’s fine,” Nastasha said. “I’m fine.”
“We made him a monument beside Maya’s grave, on a lovely hill overlooking the forest,” Alessa said. “Eleonora can show you the way.”
“One day, my children and I shall visit,” Nastasha said.
Elaina was thrilled to see her sister again. After showing Eleonora to her room, Elaina would not leave her side the rest of the day. Eleonora was starting to have Kalmise dreams and visions in earnest, and Elaina was excited to help her through a process she felt she herself was handling quite well.
Eleonora saw in Elaina traits she admired and wanted to adopt for herself—traits such as patience, wonder, and joy at experiencing the little things. Elaina found Eleonora’s cockiness, sarcasm, and bossiness intriguing. Eleonora opened her heart to Elaina like she had never done before—not even with Cam.
Dinner that evening, with its copious fine wine and venison, would last a while, as there was much to celebrate with the arrival of those from the south. Eleonora, despite being the guest of honor, broke protocol and left the meal early, because Elaina was eager to show her around the castle. Alessa, needing a break from the party herself, offered to look after Ia for a while.
The twin sisters learned from the servants that downstairs from the Glass Gardens there was a small chapel dedicated to the divine spirit, and so they set off to check it out.
The chapel was utterly dark when they entered. Eleonora found a box of large candles in a cabinet by the door, and she borrowed flame from a lamp in the hall outside. She and Elaina lit a few candles and set them in sconces on the chapel’s walls.
The candles’ flame revealed a carpet of dark green, and walls and pews of a dark rich wood. Elaina stared up at the vaulted ceiling of black-dyed hardwood. Thousands of tiny diamonds set in the wood twinkled as they caught the candlelight.
“Does anyone ever come here?” asked Eleonora, examining the altar, a simple platform of polished wood. A light layer of dust coated everything: she figured someone must clean the place, but it hadn’t been touched for a few months. On the curved wall behind the altar hung a triangular array of candle holders. Eleonora took the time to place a lit candle in each holder.
Both sisters felt something in the air of the place—although Elaina felt it stronger. There was a constant faint “glow” or “hum” all around: they figured it was a shadow or remnant of the divine spirit’s presence. But there was also a sense that the chapel was connected to multiple other worlds: that it “belonged” to several worlds at once.
“What is the divine spirit?” Eleonora asked. “This place doesn’t give us many clues does it? It’s just clear the Arrans don’t seem too interested.”
“Or maybe they’ve forgotten,” Elaina suggested. “I believe that the divine spirit is the source of life. In this world, in the other worlds. It’s within all things. It’s within us.”
“It has a will, though, doesn’t it? People always talk as though the divine spirit desires things to be a certain way. That almost makes it sound human.” Eleonora stepped up onto the altar. Elaina joined her.
“Yes, it does have a will. That’s how it teaches us. Connects us. And it’s human inasmuch as we are human, but it’s so much more. It’s everything.”
“So can we go our own way? Or must we follow the will of the divine spirit?” Eleonora asked.
“I suppose we can go our own way,” said Elaina. “But following the divine spirit’s will is always the best way for us, and fighting it only brings pain. That’s what I believe. That’s what the Celmareans believe.”
“You said you can take me to our mother,” Eleonora said. “Can you take me now?”
Elaina’s face lit up in a smile. “No need. She’s here.”
Eleonora turned and there stood Andienna, as a shimmering spirit.
“Mother?” Eleonora said. “How is this possible?”
“My dear girls,” Andienna said, smiling. Eleonora raised her hand toward her mother, and Andienna raised hers. At first their hands went right through each other’s, but on the third try Andienna’s hand seemed to become more solid and it actually connected with Eleonora’s.
“You’re so young,” Eleonora said. “I’m sorry for saying that, but…”
Andienna and Eleonora now had their fingers intertwined. Eleonora’s hand tingled warmly where it was connected to her mother’s spirit-being. “I know,” Andienna said. “Your sister thought the same thing when she saw me. I’ve grown in wisdom, but I will never age.”
“How have you found a way to be here with us?” Elaina asked. “I mean, even to…touch us?”
“In life, as you know, I was always setting out to find and exceed the boundaries of what was possible. It’s no different now. I’m an adventurer. It’s something I’m afraid I’ve passed on to both of you. I’ve also recently met a lovely friend of yours—Maya. I’ve taught her a few things.”
Andienna welcomed Eleonora in an embrace, and deep down Eleonora remembered her mother’s feeling and scent. “My beautiful child, I’ve watched your struggles,” Andienna said to Eleonora, “and more than once I have helped you along the way. Now, my precious daughter, you will shine alongside your sister, and you will never again feel alone.”
Just then, Elaina saw someone else enter the chapel, and Andienna and Eleonora turned to look.
It was Radovan. After noticing that his daughters had left dinner, he had tracked them down. When he saw his young wife in her ephemeral form, he was transfixed. He approached slowly, shaking.
“Look who we found, Denda,” Elaina said. Eleonora, overwhelmed, had tears rolling down her face.
Andienna reached out to Radovan. “Come, my dear. I’ve been expecting you.” Tears fell from Radovan’s eyes too as he stepped up onto the chapel’s altar. He stood before the wife he had murdered, and she lovingly took his hands.
“Forgive me,” he said to Andienna, his lips quivering.
“Now that I know the truth,” she said, “I see there was never anything to forgive. I was right to fall in love with you. Yours is, and always has been, an innocent, pure soul.”
As the girls watched, Radovan’s hands and lower arms seemed to turn to light. Andienna pulled him toward her and kissed him. As soon as she did, he gradually became like her, a ghostly form, starting from the place where his lips met hers. “Come back to me if you wish,” she whispered to him.
Elaina and Eleonora glanced at each other, thrilled by the divine reunion but not quite sure what to do. Before long, Radovan was entirely a ghost, his body glowing with otherworldly radiance. When their parents kissed again, with more passion this time, the girls were too shy to keep watching. They turned toward each other, eyebrows raised, and stepped off the platform. Elaina hadn’t been sure if physical love had a place in the spirit world, but now she knew it did.
When Elaina glanced back and saw that Andienna had dropped her robe to the floor and was standing naked in Radovan’s arms, it was too much. Elaina and Eleonora left the chapel, hand in hand, wide-eyed like any sisters who had just walked in on their parents.
Once they had shut the chapel doors, Eleonora asked, “What’s going on in there? What’s happening to Denda?”
“I don’t know. I suspect he’s crossed into the spirit world, but I’ve never seen it happen like that before.”
They waited outside in the corridor for about half an hour, afraid of what they might see if they went back in. As they waited, Eleonora told Elaina stories about Radovan, Elaina shared what she knew about Andienna, and the sisters�
�� love for each other and their parents grew. After a bit though, they grew too curious, and they re-opened the chapel door.
The candles were burned halfway now, and both Radovan and Andienna were gone.
“What is this?” Eleonora cried, stepping into the chapel. “She’s taken him!”
“He has chosen this,” Elaina said. “And I know why. He’s gone back to his paradise—the point in his life when he was most happy.”
“But what about us? We’re truly alone now. I must rule a kingdom on my own?”
“No. Don’t you see?” Elaina said, crying now in joy. “They both live. And they’re together. And we can visit them, day or night. We can witness their love. Learn the things they never taught us. At last, we can all be a family.”
The next morning, in the crisp air just before dawn, the Celmarean council convened around a fire pit in the courtyard of the Arran castle. The council now comprised Elaina, Eleonora, Alessa, Alethea, Tori and Ia. Alethea had asked Jaimin, Makias, Nastasha, and General Valeriy to attend as well. Elaina explained to everyone what had happened to Radovan in the chapel.
“I am sorry, my sisters,” said Alethea, who was not easily surprised, but who was clearly shaken by the news. “I did not foresee your father leaving in this way, and this soon. Please know that he is not lost.”
“We know,” Elaina said.
“It…will be difficult for you especially, Eleonora,” Alethea said. “There continues to be resistance to our rule in the hearts and minds of some in Destauria, and some here as well. The war’s wounds are still fresh. It will take all our creativity and patience to establish a new order.”
“We will all help Eleonora rule Destauria,” Elaina said. “She won’t be on her own.”
“As you say,” Alethea said. “Eleonora, we shall ensure you have our full support at all times.”
“I thank you,” Eleonora said. She wouldn’t say this, but she was now thinking that it might be easier to rule without Radovan. She would have a fresh start.
“And what my dear friend Andienna has taught us,” Alethea continued, “is that to survive we must think in new ways, starting right here with our council, and our traditions.”
Alethea proposed a radical change: letting men join the council. The council voted unanimously in favor of the motion (except for Ia: an abstention). Men would henceforth be allowed on the Celmarean council upon meeting the same criteria as women: that at least one of their parents had been a member of the council. This made Jaimin and Makias eligible, and it brought the council membership back up to eight—where it had been before the war.
The second order of business was to agree where everyone would settle. It was decided that Elaina, Jaimin, Alethea and Tori would stay in Arra, where Jaimin and Elaina would become king and queen. Eleonora would remain in Destauria and fulfill her royal role there. Alessa and Makias would relocate to Celmarea, where they would rule from the palace, with authority over day-to-day matters on the island.
The question then became: who would repopulate Celmarea, filling its thousands of vacant houses with life and energy once again? The council, again, was in agreement on a solution. The Celmarean exiles from Audicia would naturally be given the opportunity to move back to their island. In addition, Destaurian soldiers and their families who had lived on Celmarea and fallen in love with it would be welcomed to stay.
They next came back to discussing the tense situation in Destauria, and the possibility that some Destaurians would never be convinced that Eleonora was truly representing their interests. Likewise, some Arrans would be skeptical of the influence of the foreign council on Jaimin and Elaina’s rule.
“We must be open and clear with the people of all three lands as to our intentions,” Alethea said.
“What are our intentions?” Elaina asked.
“I believe that the council can wisely rule over all three lands,” Alethea replied.
“That will look to many like a power grab,” Alessa said.
“We’re fulfilling a needed role, my dear,” Alethea replied. “We shall keep the council together to decide matters of regional concern. All of us shall be coordinating what we do anyway; it’s important to provide clarity to the people of Destauria and Arra, and to our neighbors, by formalizing the arrangement.” She looked to Nastasha and General Valeriy for their opinions.
“It makes perfect sense to me,” said Nastasha.
“Your proposal leaves me with many concerns, Your Majesty, but I accept that it’s the best course,” Valeriy said. He knew it would be a monumental task if the queen intended to integrate the Arran and Destaurian armies.
Alethea offered to become the council’s figurehead and work to unite the three lands politically and militarily—as an “empress” of sorts.
“No,” said Eleonora, bluntly. “I can’t agree to that, and my people would never accept an empress. The Celmarean council may have an advisory role, but only I, or Elaina by right of birth, will have final say on any matters impacting Destauria or its people.”
Alethea smiled, happy to see Eleonora taking responsibility for her subjects. “Very well, dear. An advisory role it is.”
“What will become of these remnants of the purple army? Those now loyal to us?” Elaina asked.
“If they have no homes to go back to in Destauria,” Alethea said, “we should welcome them as new royal guards. They can help to protect us, working with the military to root out traitors and pockets of discontent that may pose a real threat.”
“And the prisoners?” Elaina asked. “What will happen to those who surrendered to us?”
“They will pose a challenge, but I want them to have a pathway to freedom, too. We shall do what we can to heal them and secure their loyalty.”
They went on to discuss the status and fate of others. Makias’ nieces and nephew—Adara, Vanessa, and Calin—would not be on the council under the new rules, but they would have a special role: their grandfather was the priest Natsik. Thus, the three children, along with their uncle Makias, had inherited the great responsibility for mastering the priestly traditions and tending to the spiritual well-being of the Celmareans.
As for the tutor and his son, they would be invited to live a peaceful life in a comfortable house in the Celmarean city.
When the council adjourned, they assembled their fellow Celmareans in one of the dining halls, and Alethea announced the council’s decisions and resolutions. Although the Celmareans accepted the rulings, some questioned whether their culture, despite their small numbers, should suddenly become so inclusive. Elaina beseeched them to be patient and give the new order a chance.
“Tens of thousands of years ago,” Elaina told her fellow islanders, “our fear and lack of compassion engendered an evil that we are only now able to purge. And what’s healed us? Our inclusiveness. My sister, Prince Jaimin, and I are descendants of both menders and Celmareans—children of the first islanders in ages who decided to share their lives with outsiders, and somehow this has made us vessels worthy of channeling and directing the divine light, the very essence of love. Were it not for our parents daring to love strangers, I would not be here today, and neither would Jaimin. And all of you might have been destroyed by the ancient enemy we created.”
“Ever since I was first able to feel Areu,” Elaina continued, “I have felt it lifting. Panei Alesa has felt it lifting too. But why? For so many years our people enjoyed the luxuries of a protected culture, but all along we were failing the test of compassion. We missed out on the pleasures that can only come from sharing ourselves with others. I’m not suggesting that we should renounce any of our practices. However, to truly better ourselves we need to seize the opportunity to become part of the world once again.”
“I’m with you,” said ten-year-old Nikoleta, stepping forward.
“Me too,” said Cora, raising her hand.
“We’re all with you,” said Adara.
“All the refft of us,” Vanessa added.
And no
one objected.
Later that morning, Jaimin, Alethea, Tori and Nastasha discussed how to rebuild the Arran royal court after so many heavy losses. They decided to run an examination system to fill the court positions with the brightest minds and dearest souls from the common citizenry. Candidates would be assessed on academic as well as spiritual characteristics. There would no doubt be many wonderful citizens selected to move into the Arran castle with their families.
In the afternoon, there was a delightful celebration in honor of Princess Tori’s birthday. She was now six years old.
“I shouldn’t tease you anymore, now that you’re on the council,” Alessa said to Makias, as they strode hand in hand through the lamplight of the park after Tori’s party. The park had been cleared of charred Arran bodies and, aside from a few ash smudges on the stone walk, it had been restored to its former loveliness.
“You won’t be able to hold back from teasing me, so don’t try,” Makias said.
She laughed. “Are we ready to lead?” she asked him.
“You know we are,” he replied. “Ready to lead, to love, and to live our dreams.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
On the morning of Seventh-day, the castle’s courtyard was bathed in glorious sunshine. A platform was set up at the north end, before the great doors to the north wing. Baskets of white flowers, both wild and cultivated, adorned the platform, and blooms and greenery lined the white processional carpet and the rails of the spectator stands.
White, black and indigo ribbons were curled into elaborate bows; fabrics in these same colors were twisted smartly along every surface that could abide a decoration. The royal couple’s choice of wedding colors had initially made some Arran purists uneasy: after all, black was supposed to be for mourning, and indigo wasn’t too far from the violet hue Arrans associated with funerals. However, after everyone thought it through, they understood why these colors were the perfect choice: both the bride and groom had come through death to bring new life to their people. These would also become Elaina’s official colors of office.
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