Shades of Prophecy

by Tessonja Odette

  His eyes were as wet as mine. “I do.”

  I slid his ring on his finger, and his hands moved to my face. Our lips met as I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed his body to mine. With that, an eager passion began to bloom. Our kisses grew stronger, our breathing heavier.

  He stepped back to remove his shirt, revealing only one scar—the one he received from Morkai—on his bare torso. The place he’d been stabbed by Valorre had been healed without a hint of scarring. I put my hand there, then moved it over his rapidly beating heart.

  He placed his hand over mine. “I love you, Cora.”

  I lifted my hand and brushed it over his cheek, as he’d done to me many times. “I love you too, Teryn.”

  His lips crushed against mine, the pressure between our lips like the sealing of our vows and the signature of our hearts. We lost ourselves in each other’s limbs, hearts hammering as we explored the new, previously undiscovered landscape of our love.

  * * *

  With my head on Teryn’s chest, I closed my eyes and reflected on how much had changed in less than a year. Just a year ago, I thought I’d live the rest of my life in peace with the Forest People. I never imagined I’d fall in love, much less marry, and I never could have expected I’d reclaim my title and kingdom. Now here I was, Queen of Kero, married to a man I loved. My heart swelled with gratitude, but it didn’t fill completely; I couldn’t help but regret that the road to my current joy had been paved with so much blood.

  Not to mention, my kingdom isn’t even mine.

  I lifted my head and looked at Teryn. His eyes were closed, a contented grin on his lips as he stroked my hair. “Do you ever feel guilty that we’re ruling a land that doesn’t belong to us?”

  His eyes fluttered open. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I will do whatever it takes to keep Kero safe, but our kingdom is only ours because Lela got separated from El’Ara.”

  Teryn furrowed his brow, staring at the ceiling as he considered my words. “That’s true. However, Lela was discovered as a new and unpopulated land in our world, and our forefathers settled here. No one knew any better.”

  “I know they didn’t. But we know the truth. Lela belongs to another realm. A realm that is dying without it. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “It does, I suppose, even though the beings of that realm tried to kill you. That bothers me more.”

  I remembered Etrix and how he’d tried to help me in his own way. And Garot, with his love for storytelling. “It’s strange. Even though they did what they did to me, I don’t feel anger over it. I’d grown up hearing stories about the Ancient Realm, about the Elvan and the Faeran. I pictured them as these perfect beings of pure love and generosity. While they are incredible beings, they are far from perfect. They still feel fear and judgment. When they found me, someone they considered a threat to their world, they did what they thought was best.”

  “If only they knew they were convicting the mother of a prophecy meant to save them.”

  A hollow feeling struck my gut. “It wouldn’t have helped if they’d known about the prophecy. Without me being able to fulfill it, they would have considered me worse than an invader.”

  “You really don’t think they knew about the prophecy?”

  “I don’t think so. They seemed resigned to their fate and didn’t seem to know any way to stop what was happening.”

  Teryn brushed the tangled hair away from my forehead. “Is that why you feel so guilty?”

  A lump rose in my throat as I pulled myself to sitting, pulling a blanket over my bare chest. “My child was supposed to be their hope. Somehow, he was supposed to make El’Ara whole again. He was supposed to stop the Blood of Darius.”

  “We don’t even know if the Blood of Darius is still a threat. And if he were, how could a baby stop him?”

  I shook my head. “Prophecies are strange. While I don’t have much experience with them, I do know that they never tell the full story.”

  “Whatever the case, there’s nothing we can do to help them,” Teryn said. “Besides, you said time passed differently in El’Ara. A day passed there while weeks passed here. That means they may have centuries to find another solution. Perhaps another prophecy will emerge. This time, Morkai won’t be around to stop it.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I bit my lip before my eyes locked on his. “What about us? What are we going to do about our side of the unfulfilled prophecy?”

  “Our side?”

  “An heir? If I prove to be truly barren…”

  Teryn lifted his hand and pressed it to my cheek. “We will figure that out in time. No need to worry about that yet.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “For all we know you may be with child now. And if not, we can always try again…and again.”

  I felt my heart stir at the mischievous glint in his eye. “Is now too soon?”

  His hand moved down my face, fingers trailing down my neck until he reached the sheet that covered me. With a gentle tug, it fell away. My breath quickened as his eyes drank me in. Even though my first instinct was to curl forward and hide myself, I sat taller, shoulders back, while my cheeks burned from his gaze.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  I leaned forward to claim his lips with my own, when the moment was shattered by a knock at the door. We froze and turned toward the sound.

  “Your Majesty,” said the muffled female voice on the other side, a frantic quality to her tone.

  I quickly wrapped the sheet around me as I answered, my voice a breathless croak, “Yes? What is it?”

  “It’s me, Breah. Queen Mareleau…her baby. She’s asking for you.”

  3

  BIRTH

  Mareleau

  “I told you not to travel,” Mother said as she looked down at me. “You should have listened. Now you have to give birth here.”

  I breathed through the pain as my queensmaids rushed about, waking my midwives and gathering supplies. “It will pass. There’s nothing to worry about.” I’d already said as much about a hundred times, but no one listened.

  “How could you think it will pass? Your child is due any day now.” Mother paced along the length of the bed.

  “He isn’t due yet. It’s too early.”

  Mother threw her hands in the air. “How can you argue with the calculations of the midwives? He is due now.”

  The pain passed, and I narrowed my eyes at Mother. “No, he isn’t. It’s too early.”

  Mother pressed her hand to her mouth and sat beside me on the bed. “Mareleau, I want to be here for you, but you are making it difficult.” Her voice shook, likely from the effort not to yell. “Your words make no sense. How can you fail to see reason yet again?”

  The pain on my mother’s face made me feel empty. I’d seen her fierce power drained, pouring out in rivers of tears too many times over the past few months to count. My father’s death had broken her, while I continued to stress her as much as I ever had before. I reached my hand toward hers. She turned to me, brows knit together as if she couldn’t comprehend the meaning of the gentle touch. Her eyes studied my face.

  “Mother, I have to tell you something.” I kept my voice low so the women flitting about the room couldn’t hear. “I lied about being pregnant when Father tried to marry me to Teryn. I didn’t conceive until my wedding night.” The words felt like fire as they moved over the lump in my throat, but once they were freed, I felt as if a weight had lifted from my chest.

  Her eyes went wide, but she said no word of reproach.

  “I only said what I thought would convince Father to allow me to marry Larylis. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—” Another wave of pain rippled through my abdomen, hips, and back, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. When it passed, I found Mother still watching me.

  “You weren’t already pregnant the day you married Larylis?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Mother. It’s my fault. If Father hadn’t sent me here�
�if he hadn’t allowed me to marry Larylis…”

  “Don’t.” Mother’s voice was stern as her eyes overflowed. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for his death.”

  “But it’s my fault.” My face twisted as I heaved a sob.

  “It isn’t your fault, and I don’t want to hear another word about it. What matters now is you and your baby.” She looked from my face to my belly. “He isn’t due now after all.”

  “No. He’s early. Dangerously early.”

  Mother squeezed my hand. “You are both going to get through this.”

  “Your Majesty, Queen Coralaine is here,” Breah said as Cora raced to the side of the bed.

  Cora looked around the busy room. “What can I do?”

  I reached toward her. “Just stay with me. Please?”

  Her eyes widened at my extended hand, then grasped it in hers with a nod.

  Somehow, her presence set my nerves at ease. My shoulders relaxed, and my breathing steadied. “Thank you, Cora. I just need a friend right now.”

  * * *

  Cora

  The sun was beginning to rise by the time Mareleau was ready to give her final push. I held her hand in mine, wiping sweat from her brow and offering calm words of encouragement. Her mother stayed at her other side, wordless.

  “This is it, Mare. You can do this,” I whispered. “The baby is so close.”

  Her face turned red as she pushed, and her midwives waited with bated breath at the end of the bed. My eyes remained locked on Mareleau’s face to keep my mind from slipping to memories of the last woman who’d attempted to give birth within the walls of Ridine Castle. Those dark times are over, I reminded myself.

  “We can see his head,” said one of the midwives. “One more push.”

  She took a deep breath, lifted her head, and pushed again. With a groan of relief, she threw her head back and sank into the pillows behind her. The gasps on the other end told me the baby had come.

  I smiled and squeezed her hand. “You did it, Mare.”

  She smiled back, eyes closed. “Where is he?”

  I cast a glance at the midwives and sensed a tremor of alarm. My eyes returned to Mareleau. “Him?” I asked, trying to keep the worry from my voice. “Do you think it’s a boy?”

  She opened her eyes and smirked. “Every queen says him when she’s with child. I almost want it to be a girl just out of spite.” She tried to pull herself to sitting, and I helped by propping pillows behind her. She looked at me and grinned. “But yes, I really think it’s a boy.”

  Her mother joined the midwives and tossed us an anxious glance.

  Mareleau tried to sit straighter to see over the fluttering hands and shuffling bodies. “Where is he? Bring him to me.”

  One of the women turned around, eyes wide and lips pressed into a tight line. “He isn’t breathing, Your Majesty. And he’s…so tiny.”

  No, not again. Images of Linette lying pale and limp amongst bloodstained sheets flashed through my mind. I shook my head to clear the visions and blinked at the bundle in the woman’s arms.

  “Bring him here,” Mareleau demanded.

  “Your Majesty—”

  “Bring him to me now.” Her voice was powerful, despite her weak condition. Without further argument, the woman brought the bundle and placed it in Mareleau’s arms.

  I stepped away, my breathing becoming more and more shallow while Mareleau stared down at her baby. My heart felt as if it were torn in two as pain surged through me. Not again. This can’t happen again.

  Mareleau appeared calm yet focused as she held her baby close, his tiny, pink cheek against her pale, bare chest. She lowered her face to his and placed her lips over his head. I was transfixed as I watched, feeling as if time had become slowed.

  That’s when I saw it.

  Or rather, felt it. A subtle light flowing from mother to child, pouring out of her hands, her chest, and her lips as it wrapped around the baby like a cloak. As it grew brighter around the baby, it illuminated Mareleau as well.

  The baby began to cry, and time seemed to flow once again. Sound erupted as the women cheered and returned to their work. I remained still against the wall, contemplating what I’d witnessed.

  “Cora, come see him! I knew it was a boy.”

  Mareleau’s voice shook me from my stupor. The midwives stepped aside and allowed me to approach. An impossibly tiny baby boy moved against her chest, making my heart flutter at the sight. “He’s beautiful, Mareleau.”

  “He’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Her face glowed as she stared at him, reminding me of the illumination I’d witness not a moment before. Her eyes lifted to mine. “Thank you for staying with me.”

  “You’re welcome.” I could find no other words to say when all I wanted to do was ask her about what I’d seen. She’d used the Arts. There was no mistaking it.

  “Will you find Larylis? And Teryn, too. I want them to meet him.”

  I forced a smile. “Of course.”

  By the time I returned with Teryn and Larylis, the room was calm and quiet. As we stepped through the doorway, Mareleau lifted her eyes from her nursing baby. A wide grin spread over her face when her eyes fell on her husband. “Larylis! Come see our son.”

  Helena rose from the edge of the bed, eying Teryn and Larylis with a glare, making them pause. “You shouldn’t be here. Men should never attend a birthing bed until the mother has rested and healed.”

  “Mother, don’t be so old-fashioned. Let them in.”

  Helena grumbled before stepping aside and allowing Larylis to approach. I stood at Teryn’s side by the door while we watched Larylis greet his wife and baby.

  “What will we name him?” Larylis asked, voice trembling and tears streaming down his face.

  Mareleau studied her baby for a moment. “How about Liam?”

  “Liam. I like that.” He kissed Mareleau on the cheek, then leaned forward to kiss the back of Liam’s head.

  Teryn brought his lips to my ear. “If we can’t…you know…make our own baby, we could always make little Liam our heir.”

  I looked at him and smiled. “You think so?”

  “Why not?”

  My eyes moved back at Liam, and my heart felt calm. In that moment it seemed as if the answer to all my worries had been before me all along. Why had I ever worried about being barren? Why had I ever worried Teryn wouldn’t have me as his wife? Of course we’d find a way. There’d always been a way.

  “We could unite our kingdoms,” Teryn said, “like Larylis and Mareleau did with Sele and Mena to form Vera. He’d be heir to—”

  “All of Lela.” My throat went dry as the words left my mouth. Other words that I’d believed had become meaningless rushed through my mind.

  The Blood of Ailan will unite the land by royal birth and magic right and return El’Ara’s heart.

  My head began to spin as threads of the prophecy swirled around me, as bright and solid as a tapestry.

  Where the veil abandoned its heart, one will be born that will stop the Blood of Darius. Only then will the veil be torn.

  I stared at Mareleau, heart hammering in my chest.

  Beauty of Satsara. Right by magic and blood. The unicorn will signify her awakening. Foreigners will flood the land. The heart of El’Ara will unite as one.

  Could it be? But how?

  Her son will be born under the house of the black mountain.

  My eyes darted around the room. Everywhere I looked, Kero’s sigil was carved into furniture, painted on the walls, and stitched into tapestries.

  Morkai had it wrong. I was never meant to be the Mother of Prophecy.

  Visions of El’Ara flooded my mind. I saw the colorless veil and heard lightning ripping through it. In the center of the veil, a crack was forming.

  I shuddered as my attention returned to Mareleau’s room, the happy voices in stark contrast to the terror running through me.

  “What’s wrong?” Teryn asked. “You’ve gone pale.”<
br />
  I took a deep breath. “The Blood of Ailan lives.”

  4

  PROPHECY

  Teryn

  I followed Cora from Mareleau’s room and into the hall where she began to pace. The way her eyes glazed over as she muttered under her breath sent a chill down my spine. I took hold of her elbow and gently turned her to face me. “What do you mean the Blood of Ailan lives?”

  Her eyes snapped to mine, her bottom lip trembling. “Mareleau is the Mother of Prophecy. It was never me. Morkai was wrong all along.” She took a gasping breath as tears pooled in her eyes. “Everything he did to me…it was never meant to be me.”

  “It’s over. It’s in the past. You’re safe.” Those were words she’d made me promise to say if I ever saw her fall apart like this over what had been done to her. It was a promise I’d had to keep many times over the previous months.

  She closed her eyes and deepened her breathing, and I watched as calm fell over her. Her shoulders relaxed, her hands unclenched, and her body ceased trembling. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I took her hand and led her down the hall. Walking seemed to help ease her even more, and only once she was breathing evenly did I speak again. “Why do you think Mareleau is the Mother of Prophecy?”

  She took a deep breath. “Everything makes sense. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

  “Tell me.”

  She paused mid-step and faced me. “I saw her use the Arts. Just before I came to find you and Larylis. Liam wasn’t breathing, so she demanded her midwives let her hold him. When she did, I could…see it. This web of light surrounded him, then moved back into her. It was as if using the Arts made her stronger.”