Northern Lights, Southern Stars

by C. S. Johnson

  Some of the councilors raise their eyebrows as I take my leave; I assure them I will be back, and they seem satisfied with this response enough that they don’t question me about when I will be back.

  Damaris spills tea on Enri’s lap just as I leave. I say a prayer of thanks to God and make a note to myself to reward Damaris later.

  The stables are nearly empty as I walk inside. Immediately, the smells of sawdust and the rough scents of animals and nature assault my senses, and the stablemaster looks up in silent shock to see me.

  Before he says anything, I shake my head. I know Mother’s tactics, and I don’t want Ebony to run off if she knows I’ve come for her.

  “Perhaps you will indulge yourself in a private break from work, my good sir?” I ask.

  “Yes, Highness.” He quickly bows and backs away, even as his brow furrows.

  I hope he takes my meaning and he will not tell Mother. She always has her spies throughout the castle, but I need to see Ebony again.

  A moment after he leaves, Ebony appears from the other side of a row of stalls. “I’ve gotten the new mare settled, Pierre,” she says, and then her voice trails off as she sees me.

  My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. Twists in her hair have fallen free of her headscarf. The linen of her dress is clinging to her skin, and her apron pulled tight, emphasizing the pleasing shape of her waist and hips.

  “Pierre’s taking a break,” I say. “I thought I should, too.”

  Ebony bites her lip. “What are you taking a break from?”

  “Reality.” I come up beside her and hold out my arm to her. “Join me, won’t you?”

  “I don’t know if I can,” she says.

  “If I can’t take you out of reality, I will bring reality along with us,” I say. I pull out the scroll of paper and Caryo’s letter. “I have to talk to you about a few things. About Marula.”

  When she still hesitates, I take her arm and press myself against her. “I know how much you love Marula. You would do anything for it. Even face down my mother.”

  Ebony finally gives me a small smile. “That’s true,” she agrees. “But I don’t know if that means I have the power to survive such an encounter.”

  “If anyone has the power to win against my mother, it’s you.”

  Before she can raise another objection, I lead her toward the door.

  Together, we walk outside the stable doors and head toward a small wooded area, letting the shadows of trees and the growing light of the stars break away into a time and space all our own.

  *8*

  Ebony

  RION WALKS BESIDE ME and holds onto me tightly. I’m grateful for the dark; he can hold onto and lead me, and I can glance back at the castle and make sure no one is following us.

  I almost wish someone was nearby. My hair is full of knots, my dress is spotted with horse dung and carries the brisk scent of hay, while my hands are covered in sweat. I am glad that there are no mirrors around here. Not only would I be forced to see just how ugly I look, but Vi’s pitying looks or blunt commentary might make me cry.

  “It’s lovely out here,” Rion says, his voice stark against the night.

  “Because there’s a breeze?” I ask. “I imagine that will help with the smell.”

  Rion laughs, and I scowl at him in the starlight.

  “I didn’t even notice it,” he says. “But I did notice something earlier, and I wanted to share it with you.”

  “Oh, yes.” I pat his arm, the one holding a sheet of paper. “What was it about the Maruli you wanted to discuss?”

  “Marula has been having issues with the war between the Mopana and Baobabi.”

  Of all things I thought he might say, that was not one of them. I listen carefully as Rion explains what has been happening with my nation’s neighbors—how the Mopana have been spotted selling captured Maruli into slavery, while they fight with the Baobabi, who are pillaging our lands and tribes for supplies.

  “Pommier’s weaponry has allowed tribes and families to defend themselves, but the situation is getting worse,” Rion says. “There are plenty of reasons to be upset at the situation, but Caryo is most upset about the Maruli getting sold into slavery.”

  Caryo was one of my uncles, related to my mother through blood, although I did not recall the exact distance. I always remembered him as a large man who liked to sing, although he is probably much different during wartime. He had been good friends with my father, too.

  “I agree we shouldn’t be part of their war.” I sigh. Images flash through my mind, of the women and children suffering while the men are missing and fighting. “This is complicated.”

  I haven’t been to Marula in so long. I’ve forgotten there are places where slavery and atrocities happen by the hour.

  Rion pulls me closer to him, and I think we both take some comfort in our proximity.

  “I will write back to Caryo,” Rion assures me. “I thought I would consult you over the situation. Maybe you can help.”

  “It’s very hard to help while I am here.” I look over at him, brightening as an idea strikes me. “Maybe you can send me back to Marula. I can talk with my uncle.”

  Rion seems alarmed by this suggestion, and when he goes silent, I stop walking.

  “What is it?” I ask. “Why can’t I just go back? I will go back one day. If I can go back and help now, that will be even better.”

  He takes my hand and squeezes it. “I don’t want you to ... I mean, I don’t want you to be sad.”

  It seems inevitable that I will be, but I don’t say that to Rion.

  “I knew it was likely there was going to be some trouble because of my father’s death,” I remind him. “But I’m sure there’s something we can do about it.”

  “I don’t know.” Rion shuffles his feet. His despondency is discouraging.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Weren’t you the one who just said I had more power than I think?”

  “It’s one thing to stand up to Mother,” Rion says. “It’s another thing to risk your life in a war.”

  We fall back into silence and darkness. He is clearly frustrated, and not just with me. I am about to suggest we head back when he holds out his arm again.

  “Come with me,” he says. “I’d like to show you something.”

  I walk with him, this time grateful for the silence.

  Rion says I have power, but if all I can do is stay here in Pommier while I suffer, and the Maruli suffer, then what kind of power do I truly have?

  Perhaps it is much like my title of “Princess.” It is power in name only, which means nothing.

  We walk through the woods, carefully maneuvering in the night. Normally, I would enjoy the chance to be with Rion; I have missed his company for the last week, even if, thanks to the Queen, I have had to be careful to avoid him.

  But as our silence continues, I feel a growing sense of defeat.

  I’ve never known what it was like to have true power.

  To me, the idea of power was as elusive as catching starlight.

  I can hold up my hand to the night sky, watching as the darkness turns my skin into its full shadow. My fingers curl around the bright burning lights high in the sky, but as I try to pull it toward me, the warmth in my palm diminishes, and the last of my self-indulgent mirage disappears.

  “Are you all right?” Rion asks. He pauses for a moment, as if deciding what to say next, or if he should say anything else at all.

  “Yes,” I say, even though I’m sure I am lying. I look back to the stars, watching as they become clearer against the blackness of the shadowed sky.

  The only time I’d seen captured starlight was back when I was a child; I would crawl into my father’s lap, and, from there, I could see the starry twinkles of light held captive in his eyes. I knew just from looking at him that my father was a wonder among men, and I adored him.

  My mother adored him, too. I remember her saying once that all the music she ever needed was the song
she saw dotted across my father’s eyes.

  Perhaps that is why I saw my father as such a powerful man; he was gentle enough the stars would seek him out to use as a home, and yet he still ruled as Marula’s beloved king.

  “How is your ball coming along?” I don’t really want to argue with Rion.

  “You’ll see it all, tomorrow night.”

  Remembering the Queen’s warning, I doubt it. Unless I will be a servant girl helping the guests with their cloaks or fetching them drinks.

  Rion leads me out to a small clearing in the woods.

  “Look. Up there.” Rion points at the sky. At first, all I see are stars, and I am not impressed; I regret coming out of the castle with him. But he nudges me, as if he can read my thoughts, and I look again.

  Now I see them.

  I see little lines of green and gold and amber, all twisting and fluttering against the starry darkness.

  “What are they?” I ask. I recall seeing them before, but as I stand there, I realize I’ve never truly studied them.

  “Those are the Northern Lights,” he says. “Some nations believe they are the ghosts of dragons, still waging what war they can on our world.”

  “Is that how you see them?” I ask, still watching the show. From where we are, there is no extra light to hinder our view.

  Momentarily, I glance back at the castle, nervously clutching the linen of my apron, wringing the tough cloth until I feel its wrinkled lines. I do not want the Queen to catch us out here. Rion is my friend, but I know there is very little he can do if she wants to punish me for breaking orders.

  “No.”

  I nearly jump as I feel Rion’s hands take hold of mine, gently untangling them from my apron. By the time the cloth drops out of my grip, my mouth is curiously dry.

  I look up to see he is watching me. I am grateful for the dark, as it casts a shadow over my features. Heat pools in my cheeks, while my hands tingle with heightened awareness.

  Rion keeps his one hand wound around mine, before he looks back up at the dancing auras across the sky.

  “I’ve always seen them as sheets of music,” he says. “A colorful page, dotted with notes and stanzas, like God was writing out secret love songs to us in the darkness of night.”

  “My mother would have liked that,” I say, remembering her affection for starlight and music.

  For a long and lovely moment, Rion and I stare up at the sky, allowing the wonder of creation’s song to wash over us. The chill I felt before is gone, replaced by an irresistible warmth.

  And then Rion looks down at me again. I see the starlight in his eyes, and I wonder if he sees the Northern Lights in mine.

  “Ebony.”

  My name is a whisper on his lips before he leans down to kiss me.

  My eyes flutter shut as his mouth finally presses gently against mine. His hand tightens around mine, our fingers laced as we hold onto each other. I lean into him, and then I fall against him, enchanted by the sweet strangeness of his kiss.

  Rion presses further, and I begin kissing him back, unable to hold back any longer. Inside, my body screams with happiness as we stand there, embodying the hidden music of our hearts as Rion’s longing and my own twist together to form a new, rapturous symphony.

  I finally step back, breathing hard. “Rion.”

  “Ebony.” He follows after me, stepping forward and kissing me again.

  I give in, and I think perhaps I am truly powerless, because there is nothing inside of me that wants him to stop.

  Rion had wanted me to take a break from reality earlier, and he’d managed to pry me free from life’s hardships enough to see nothing but heavenly bliss.

  When we finally part, Rion cradles my cheek in his hand, pressing his forehead against mine. I shiver and move closer to him, having forgotten everything else—my stained dress, my messy hair, my lowly status, just everything else.

  “I love you.” His eyes are heavy with passion as he looks at me.

  Rion’s whispered words mean everything in the world to me.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper back, and that’s the second when I am stricken with reality’s sudden return.

  “What is it?” Rion asks.

  I bite my lip, letting myself enjoy the lingering taste of Rion’s kisses.

  “Tell me.” His insistence is gentle, and I am already bereft of any defense.

  “We can’t do this.” I look back at the castle. “Your mother—”

  “I already know she doesn’t approve,” Rion says. “This is one of our adventures.”

  “She’s never approved of those.”

  “But she’s never stopped us either.” He wraps his arms around me. “I’ve made arrangements for the ball this week so I can introduce you as my future bride. Mother won’t be able to deny me in front of the other kingdom representatives. Not without admitting her treatment of the Maruli has been unfair and discriminatory and that she no longer has any goodwill toward Marula.”

  I refuse to give in to false hope. “Are you sure that will work?”

  “Of course it will.” Rion presses a small kiss on my neck just below my ear, and I shiver at the surge of warmth I feel. “I love my mother, but her vanity and pride has always been her downfall. She would never deny me and risk humiliation.”

  “She doesn’t like me.”

  “She wouldn’t like me at all if I wasn’t her son.”

  I involuntarily laugh. Rion is right about that.

  “Is this why you brought me out here?” I ask. A smile grows as I look around; the Northern Lights have grown brighter, and the stars are twinkling down at us like an audience applauding. “To tell me you had a plan?”

  “No. I guess I brought you out here to ask you to marry me. I don’t always have a plan.” Rion pats his chest, where he’d stuck the scroll of paper for Caryo. “But I’ve never planned on living my life without you by my side.”

  I put my hand halfway over his, letting my fingers drape over his knuckles while my palm presses against his heart. “You don’t always need a plan,” I tell him. “I’ve never expected you to begin with, remember?”

  We exchange a knowing smile, before I rest my head against his chest.

  “So does that mean you’re saying yes?”

  Could there be any other possible answer for me to give?

  Under the flickering auroras and brilliant starlight, I give Rion my answer.

  “Yes.” I can’t stop the large grin that comes onto my face. “We can make plans—”

  Rion cuts me off, kissing me, before I can say “together.”

  I want him to know I will be there for him, and I want to hear him say he will be there for me. There are larger issues that will need our attention, from the future of Marula to the Queen’s coming objection.

  But as his mouth moves over mine, and my arms reach around him, I let the sweetness of the moment wash over me. If there’s anyone in the world who can make my heart sing, it’s Rion, and, as we stand there in the middle of the woods under a canopy of nature’s joy, my heart is so full of love I feel like bursting into song.

  *9*

  Rion

  “ACHOO!”

  Mother cocks an eyebrow as she frowns at me. Despite all the glittering decorations of the palace and the noise from the crowds, she is keenly aware of my failures. “You’ll make our guests feel uncomfortable if they think you’re sick, Rion.”

  “Sorry.” I quickly apologize. She doesn’t know it, but I am happy for my sneezes. They are an excellent excuse to hide my smile, and they remind me of my time with Ebony last night. The chilly air might’ve given me a small cold, but it is not enough to drive away the warmth of Ebony’s love. “I’m not sick.”

  My grand statement is ruined as another sneeze comes on; I barely manage to pull up my sleeve to soften the sound.

  Mother, of course, is not fooled. “Sick or not, you certainly seem enthusiastic tonight, Rion.”

  “Believe me, Mother, I wouldn’t miss toni
ght for anything.”

  “Good. But I wouldn’t want your future bride to be upset at your poor presentation.”

  “She won’t be.” I stand up tall, wondering if Fabrice has delivered Ebony’s dress yet.

  Mother scowls, clearly displeased. “Oh, you’ve heard the news, then? I have made arrangements to meet with Celtia’s ambassador. They’ve offered quite a dowry for their Princess.”

  “Sounds lovely,” I say. “I will be sure to welcome them when I make the announcements in an hour.”

  “I will be making the announcements, not you,” Mother corrected. “I am still Queen.”

  “All I’ve asked is that you wait till everyone gets here.”

  “That’s why we’ve scheduled it so late, isn’t it?” Mother rolls her eyes. “Just because you are being groomed for the throne, don’t think you will displace me just yet.”

  “I will never replace you,” I say.

  “That’s not what Horatio says,” Mother hisses, before she straightens the crown on her blonde hair. The gold shines, reflecting the white hair that’s starting to show in her hair.

  Horatio.

  Mother’s speciavo has never liked me. Of course, the rest of Mother’s close circle of advisors has never liked me much, either. I know they look at Mother now, seeing her reluctantly aging visage, and they question whether or not they will be able to hold onto their power once I am granted the throne.

  Considering what I have learned since my return, they should really be wondering whether or not they will keep their heads more than their power.

  Once Ebony’s future is secure—along with the future of the Maruli people in Pommier—I will be working to making sweeping reforms throughout the kingdom.

  In the past four years since King Maru’s death and my departure across the sea to Marula, and then across its plains and deserts to visit tribal leaders, Mother has been lax in her duty to her citizens. King Maru had even warned me that she was not keen on progress or stifling inflammatory rhetoric. Now that he is gone, all the goodness he wished for is gone too.