He nods and then produces a small cut of citrine. With a few taps, it glows. Somewhere in the king’s chambers, I know that a much larger mother crystal lights up, alerting them to the need for an audience.
The air around the guard and attendant is stiff, and they avert their eyes from my unkempt appearance.
Enduares consider unbound hair private. It comes from silly traditions. ‘
The evolution of a people after a tragedy is something that has always fascinated me in my long years of life. Some traditions are upheld as if letting them go would mean slowly slipping into a culture completely unrecognizable from the one we now practice.
I realize that one of the guards is an ocean-born—a group of people who had been rescued from the sea. Since our people have recently been reunited with those who hold tight to even older ways from before the war, accompanied by thousands of human refugees turned citizens, some cling even more tightly to thoughts of what makes us, “us.”
But many are young—they do not yet know that some traditions change to improve life for all. While elders refuse to let go of what was drilled into them at a young age, with a futile hope that their nostalgia is somehow an anointed state. What is old is not always what is better.
I was young when I began my pathway as a priestess, and I do not regret the gifts it gave me. But one thing has risen in my heart above all others—the reality that the rules drilled into me during my training were just one path someone could take to reach the divine.
I have never been one for small talk. My youth was far too turbulent to be comfortable with the mundane. My pain taught me that the only place I would feel comfortable was in the depths of the darkest abyss and the heights of the brightest light. But the young guards do not have room for my nuances. And it is not my place to drown them in waters they are not prepared to explore while we wait for King Teo or Queen Estela to come.
As if on cue to interrupt my thoughts, King Teo and Queen Estela emerge from the golden doors carved with the legends of our people. Both of them are also still wearing nightclothes, though they have made more of an effort to appear presentable. Estela, the glowing human queen of my people, shines in the dim crystal light of the hallway. Her brown skin is gilded in silver by the cool-toned light, and the thick brown braid flowing over her shoulder seems to carry small twinkles in it.
Little golden rings with gemstones decorate her hair, I realize. I make a quick note to ask for my own set.
Later.
“My king, my queen,” I say with a half bow.
“Liana,” Estela begins. “What troubles you?”
I take a deep breath.
“There is to be an elven wedding. Soon.”
Teo scowls. “No.”
“Yes,” I insist sadly. “I have seen it.”
Estela covers her mouth, her brows lifting. “Is Arlet to be the bride?”
“I do not know. Regardless whether it is her or some other poor soul, we have to find out exactly what is happening and how to stop it.”
I have known Teo for most of his life. First from afar, and then when he worked with me to rebuild our people and city. The gears that turn behind his eyes are easy for me to spot. I can see himrunning hundreds of scenarios in moments, drawing the answers we need.
I also see the exact moment he thinks of Vann. I see the way his wife squeezes his hand, and I see the way he dances away from the ground-rocking fear that shakes his calm exterior.
“Like I said, I did not see anyone outside of those preparing for the wedding. The king…well, he remains a mystery to me.” I was never good at seeing the elves in visions. Only when…
I shake my head. Not the time.
“I do not know the fate of Lord Vann nor Lady Arlet, but there is a part of me that hopes it is her. If only because we will be able to work much more efficiently knowing that she is there, rather than having to search for them and focus our efforts on gathering information.”
“I thought you said that they were safe,” Estela says abruptly.
“Vann would do anything to care for Arlet,” Teo responds.
For a second, I reach deep into the pit that seems to have replaced my gut. I think about it for a moment. While the other option did seem possible, something told me it was Arlet who would be binding herself to Arion. And soon.
I am old enough to know that my intuition is rarely wrong.
“I believe that they are both in Shvathemar, and I think we need to start looking there first. Before any real damage can be done.”
“I agree,” King Teo says.