“I understand, Benedict. I will have the coordinates downloaded onto Hüginn’s memory drive before you depart.”
“Will you be able to communicate via Hüginn while I’m gone?”
“Unfortunately, no.” His voice slowed, dropping in tone and stuttering at the last syllables. It almost sounded as if there were sadness to Mimir’s metallic voice. “I will be working on that project we’ve been discussing.”
Ah. That. It was something that still made him feel so uneasy that he didn’t like thinking about it. The experiment in the room with the healing bath. Though it could give them a real edge in the war, Ben couldn’t help but get a sick feeling in his gut about it. It was unnatural. “That’s okay, Mimir. I’ll send you some messages from time to time, just to keep you updated.”
“My thanks, Benedict. Please stay safe.”
“I will. You taught me well. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
The air on Svaldway was cold, despite being the middle of summer. There was a fresh blanket of light fluff sleeping above the path descending the mountain. Icicles wept below the rooves of the village below. Even in the coldest winters at home, Ben had never seen snow. He’d heard rumors as a child of the milky flakes dancing from the sky in the northern reaches of the Northern Kingdoms, long before they’d been named Ænæria. Until recently, he’d dismissed those as just another of Kabedge’s tall tales. How things had changed.
He exited the Vault with Sierra by his side, and he watched the glowing blue mandala on its doors close behind him. When the glowing stopped, Ben patted Sierra on the head and grinned.
“Race you to the bottom of the mountain, girl?”
Sierra howled in excited and leaped forward, descending down the island’s tallest mountain. It was only fair that Ben gave the wolf a head start.
8
Rose
Freztad, Penteric Alliance
It was an ordinary day among the other settlements but a cause for celebration in Freztad. It was Rose’s birthday.
Even after she had grown ill and relinquished responsibility, Lydia had always thrown extravagant feasts every year on this day. Anything that got the village together with music and dance was a win in Rose’s eyes. She’d never tried to make it about her and always used it as an excuse to catch up with anyone in the village. Today was different. It would have to be about her. She was sixteen today. She woke up a woman grown and would go to sleep a queen. The thought made her shiver, and Trinity blew out a frustrated tsk as she tried to concentrate on Rose’s make-up.
It was done in front of a looking glass, so Rose could see the progress. It was all rather much—the eyeliner, the blush, the shading in of her cheekbones. Though she had to admit, it did look pretty good. Her hair had already been done, curled and spiraled atop her head with two swirls dangling by her ears to accent the turquoise earrings. Even she could admit that a crown would look magnificent once fitted through her curly locks.
Once the make-up was finished, she was helped into her dress. It was a lovely piece—one that unfortunately needed the assistance of two other women to assemble. Sunset red with silver beads shaped like sprouting seeds flowing down the edges with linings of white-gold lace. It covered everything from her neck to her toes, with gaps over her shoulders and just below her neck, where a golden pendant shaped like a thorny rose rested. It was given to her this very morning by her mother. Rose hadn’t the faintest idea where she’d gotten it. Her mother always managed to surprise Rose on her birthdays. She’d never felt so beautiful. Looking at herself even took her mind off the nightmares, though only for the briefest moment.
A bell tolled. The sentinels Wilhelm and Geoff met her by Valhaven’s double doors. Floods of music rushed to Rose’s ears as the doors swung open. The sun had set, and only a faint glow remained beyond the village walls. The light of torches danced across the illuminated green silk carpet which paved a path toward a gazebo by Mathias’s Tree. Everyone in the village assembled on either side of the path, standing in their nicest clothes, which had been waiting in the backs of wardrobes for just such an occasion.
Alejandra and the Alliance leaders gathered by the gazebo. Flutes and trumpets and drums were played with pomp as she ambled down the carpet. People cheered and whistled. These people had fallen on hard times, and though they’d met some reprieve from the Vault’s seeds, harder times would only keep coming. They needed all the merriment they could get.
Once she reached the end of the carpet, the cadences ceased, and the crowds hushed. There was an ornate pedestal at the gazebo’s center, covered with a thick white veil. She walked behind it and stood.
The Grand Elder stepped forward. Symbols decorated his face—a ceremonial custom of the Vänalleatian Elders. The paints were red and yellow, black and white. If he felt uncomfortable giving a ceremony for a woman, he didn’t show it. At least not to Rose. Perhaps he was better behaved in front of crowds.
“We gather here on this seventh day of the Fish Moon to celebrate a first within our society. Twenty years ago, we were blessed to come to an understanding between our peoples. Lydia of the line of Limmetrad brought our five cultures together under the dominion of an alliance. One that has provided fruitful for us all. Our strengths were bolstered by the support of our new allies. We have grown into a great society, each still separate in name and culture, but together in love and harmony.”
“A war looms over our shoulders.” This came from Morgiana, and her voice boomed and carried across the entire village. “Blood has been spilled, lives lost, people abducted, and ways of life threatened; I could go on, but the meaning is clear. Once more we must all band together, to unite our strengths under the rule of a single person. Someone of noble blood, virtue, and courage.”
“Someone of unyielding determination, strength, and resolve,” Jarl Geon continued. “If we are to survive against the enemy, those who would dare enter our lands and threaten our people, we must have someone who will inspire the hearts of our brave men and women on the battlefield. As our people have been united, so too must our militaries. Only with our combined forces can we hope to overcome the armies of the north.”
“True unity can only be achieved through the guidance of someone loved by the people,” Thalia said. “A leader with a heart so pure and kind that none would dare abandon the cause. One whose wisdom is far beyond their years, and one who is loved unconditionally by their people.”
“A leader who knows her enemy as well as she knows the hearts of the people for whom she would die to protect.” Alejandra’s voice shocked Rose. She was the leader of an organization, not an entire people. Who did she represent?
“A woman born with many talents, not the least of which is her empathy—a rarity in today’s harsh world. She knows her people suffer, and so too do the people of Ænæria. They suffer under injustice, deprived of righteousness. Though she will stop at nothing to make sure her people are looked after, she also has room in her heart to accept the downtrodden of the north to enter into our Alliance and thrive in our prosperity.”
With that, Rose realized Alejandra was acting as the representative of Ænæria—of the people who wanted to free their home from tyranny.
Together, the five leaders approached the pedestal. They removed the veil and revealed a silver circlet with weaving bands. At the front, a six-pointed star with deep and round sockets at each point.
“I, the Grand Elder, bestow upon you this diamond—a rare beauty found deep under the bluff upon which Vänalleato rests. Diamonds are our most precious treasure, representing the pure soul that one day joins our ancestors with the Ascendants.” The Grand Elder placed the diamond into the socket on the upper right, adjacent to the topmost point.
“I, Geon, Jarl of Sydgilbyn, give you this ruby, which represents the blood of my people’s warriors. Warriors who have died for noble causes that have made our home the thriving community that it is today. Rubies are the greatest gift in Sydgilbyn, given only to those who have granted our people
great honor.” He placed the ruby in the bottom left socket.
“I, Morgiana, Thane of Talamdor, give you this black star sapphire. Sapphires are our most precious stones in the mines of Talamdor, and only one black star sapphire for every thousand sapphires is found. Only a very few have ever been discovered and, until today, only a thane has ever worn one.” She placed the gemstone in the upper left space.
“I, Thalia, Sheika of Mashariq, present you this pearl, found at the depths of Lake Mashariq. As with the other gems you’ve been given, pearls are exceedingly rare. To our people, the pearl represents beauty and strength from within. It is a symbol of resilience, and it is worn with pride.” Thalia inserted the pearl into the socket on the bottom right.
“And I, who is called Alejandra, would be honored if you would accept this sunstone. The legends of the Holy Sun were made widespread by your father, but believe me when I say that they were around long before he named himself king. In those who already worshiped the Sun, the sunstone was thought to be an earthly manifestation of the Sun’s grace. To this day it still considered a holy item, and its place on your crown will show Ænæria’s people that you are the rightful heir of Ænæria.” Alejandra placed the sunstone in the socket at the top, to the right of the Vänalleatian diamond.
Rose understood the symbolism. Each gem had been placed in the spot corresponding to the geographic location of each settlement. Yet the crown was not yet complete. All that left was Freztad, which must’ve been represented by the socket at the very bottom. Rose thought her mother would be placing something in it. She looked to her mother, sitting in her chair at the front of the crowd to the left. She didn’t move. Rose felt the gold pendant on her necklace and wondered if it was meant to fit there. No, it won’t fit. The sockets were each fitted for their respective gemstones, and the bottom space was rounded and very small.
There was a caw coming from above, and the villagers pointed and muttered among themselves. Rose couldn’t see what they were pointing at from the inside of the gazebo. It didn’t take long for her to find out. A raven swooped inside and landed on top of the circlet. It was Müninn, and in its mouth was a small, green and brown seed. It placed the seed in the bottom socket, where it fit perfectly. Müninn opened its mouth again, and Ben’s voice sounded from it.
“Hey, Rose. Sorry I can’t be there for this one. I pre-recorded this message for you before I left Müninn with you and gave him directions to give you the seed after the other leaders were finished with their gifts. It’s a linden seed—one that dropped on my head one day from the burnt side of Mathias’s Tree. It fell while I was waiting for you to come home. That was back at the beginning of my adventure to come and find you. Now it’s your turn for adventure. You’re a grown woman now—and about to be named queen at that. Go out there and see the world but don’t ever forget who you are. Before anything else, you’re a Limmetrad of the Linden Tree. Happy birthday, Cousin.”
The crowd mumbled in awe. Some of them may have seen a talking raven before—but never one that spoke in full sentences with the voice of a man. Rose smiled and wiped back the tears running from her eyes. Trinity was going to kill her for ruining the make-up.
The leaders shushed the crowd and then returned to deliver Rose her crown. It was light and seemed to fit flawlessly with the way her hair was styled. They spoke simultaneously as they placed it atop her head. “We have each granted you a gift from our people, naming you as one of our own. For the reasons we have spoken, we, through the power granted us by the laws of our respective lands, name Rose Limmetrad as ruler of the Penteric Alliance and Queen of Ænæria. Long may she reign!”
“Long may she reign!” the crowd answered. “All hail Queen Rose!” Then they clapped and cheered. She hadn’t seen her people this happy in so long. The thought of these people bowing to her, nearly worshipping her, had unsettled her since the first moment she’d thought about being queen. So much of it felt wrong. Like a lie. But the crown felt so right on around her head, and the smiles of her people so pure. Maybe this was the right decision. Not that it mattered much if not. It was already done. She had been named queen. Now she had to lead these smiling faces into war.
But first, a day of celebration.
Freztad celebrated with the greatest feast they’d ever had. There was an abundance of bread and corn, tomatoes and apples, pears and plums, cabbages and beans; anything Rose could think of was there. Vänalleato carried with them barrels of red wine that had been sitting in their most pristine cellars. She’d only ever had sips of wine in the past, but as an adult and queen, she was permitted as many chalices as she wished. She’d seen her mom after too many cups of wine to know better than to have more than a chalice or two. It wouldn’t do to have her make a fool of herself on the day of her coronation.
As acting chief of Freztad, she’d been respected and her advice heeded. It was rare for a villager to look down at her, even scarcer for them to look up to her. She had started ‘leading’ when she was barely thirteen years old. She and Ben had been the only children in the village after the plague. No one else risked having children after that, and if they happened to get pregnant, they moved elsewhere. While Ben had grown up as an outcast, Rose became the baby of the village. Suddenly that all changed when a crown was put on her head. She caught people staring at her, whispering among themselves, only to look away and feign innocence when she caught them.
Apologies became more frequent, even for things as silly as spilling food in her presence. It was like she’d been transformed into something else. Is this how Ben had felt growing up, with everyone avoiding his gaze and treating him like he was any different from the rest of them? It didn’t matter that he wasn’t fully human—none of them could’ve known that. And it shouldn’t matter that Rose was their queen. She was still the same Rose they’d grown up loving.
9
Longinus
White Tree, Bacchuso; Ænæria
Though it belonged to her by all rights, Randolph had turned the Bacchusan estate into his vacation house. Since Xander’s founding of Ænæria, it had been customary for the king to stay at a legate’s home when visiting another province, whether it be for business or pleasure. At first, Longinus had thought it was due to the so-called ‘mission’ that her uncle would send her on, but he hadn’t brought it up once since the destruction of the Miners Guild’s fortress in Yalliknok. Instead, Longinus found herself removed to a guest bedroom reserved for her servants, whom she subsequently needed to displace.
Since becoming a legate, Longinus never allowed anyone to sleep in the same room as herself for fear of them discovering her secret. As a prefect, she was often given her own quarters. Prior to that, Randolph kept a watchful eye as she trained with the other Rhion. She hadn’t yet developed fully, having made it easier to disguise herself. It wasn’t until she was thirteen when her uncle forced her to start wearing the bindings around her chest. Since then she was to deepen her voice and apply makeup as needed to amplify her jawline or feign stubble. He never made her cut her hair, though. Longinus’s bright platinum hair was a strong trait in her family. Both her father and his sister, Randolph’s late wife, had matching hair; even her mother’s hair looked just a radiant in the right light. Her aunt, Tamzin, had worn it proudly when she was alive, as had her daughter Rhea. Her uncle often spoke of how he missed his wife and daughter’s hair.
Randolph had always blamed Longinus’s father for their deaths. He had, after all, sold out the town to the early rebels who slaughtered the village. Ever since their death, Randolph mandated Longinus’s identity change. She became a man burdened with her father’s name, living a lie. But even with that burden, there was hope in the form of a promise—that one day her name and identity would be returned to her. Until then it was a secret. Her faith in the Sun and her uncle’s promise kept her strong, even through these trying times.
Randolph could take her homes and identity, but Longinus refused to let him take away her will. She still believed that sh
e was the same girl on the inside as she was that traumatic night twelve years ago. The night her face was scarred, and she became an orphan. The night she became Longinus.
It was twelve years ago tonight, on the 15th of the Fish Moon. She bit her lip and cursed, reflecting on the fact that she had been forced to use her father’s name longer than her own.
A loud bang from behind shook her from her seat.
The interruption came from the door across the room. Had it been just a few short minutes later, it would have woken Longinus from a slumber. Her self-reflection could only keep her awake for so long. She tied her hair up quickly and threw on a fur coat and robe.
The door opened and it was none other the King of Ænæria himself, the Sun’s Chosen. Longinus started to doubt the latter, though the thought frightened her. Through all the adversity in her life, faith in the Sun had been the foundation by which she could remain stable. Questioning it always threw her into an awful rut that spun her mind and weighed on her conscience. It was easier to hold onto her trust in the Sun. Her punishment was no mere chance, rather a divine plan greater than herself. Longinus had to believe her uncle’s status as ruler of Ænæria was part of that plan as well. She merely had to be patient—something she was growing used to over the years.
“May I come in?” the king asked. There was no stench of alcohol on his breath. Surprising. It wasn’t often that he didn’t drink himself to sleep. Not tonight, however. No, tonight he means to remember his wife and daughter.
“Have you looked at the stars tonight?” the king asked. His voice was colder than usual, without the typical fervor.
Longinus shook her head. “I’ve been lost in thought, sir.”
The king, wearing his hat in place of the platinum crown he’d crafted, moved a chair from a small dining table to the nearest window. “They’re rather bright, considering how far away they are. My favorites are the Three Sisters.”
The Heir of Ænæria Page 10
