by Mira Zamin
***
After my walk with Avera, I waited for nightfall, fretfully ascertaining that all had been taken care of and calling Kershid or Niara to ensure that they understood everything. When the sun descended, filling the sky with rosy oranges and then bluish violets and the stars began to pick their way across the sky, cloaked and surrounded by a small party of guards, Oelphie and I boarded the carriage with Reyal and Miri.
We made the journey swiftly, stopping only briefly to dine and change horses. Some part of me foolishly hoped that when I returned, all would be right with the world again and in that joy, I could forget the sorrow which had been dogging my footsteps. It felt strange to be alone in my body once more, after having had the companionship of my growing child for so many months. Sometimes, I absently, I would reach down to pat my belly and feel the child wriggle within, only to be met by my soft stomach. As each day passed, my body was subtly tautening as if determined to forget that somebody else had resided within. The outward shows of grief were tapering off, but sometimes and without warning, my chest would tighten and my eyes sting. But as queen, I could not surrender to my grief.
After I returned from Aquia, it would be as if Evela had never been. She never has been, I realized. I was overwhelmed once again that she would never have a first smile, a first step, a first tantrum, a first dance, a first love…The list was endless. Looking out the window, watching the panorama of hills and valleys dip past and avoiding the gazes of my companions, I let the tears drip down my face.
I was asleep when we finally reached the outskirts of Aquia, but Oelphie nudged me awake.
“Oh, look your Majesty, look!”
My neck painfully cricked from the angle at which I had fallen asleep. I slowly raised my head, sucking in my breath. We had just emerged from the Letern Woods and we could make out the town blossoming atop the high hills, basking in a glow of golden candlelight, surrounded by thick fortifications. Coming back to Aquia this time was nothing like my return last year. That had been forced and my emotions incased in fear. Now, I was returning home, to my patrimony and relief swept through me. It was as if the warm candlelight bathed my own bones. The city would not be an empty husk this time; peasants and workers of other lands filled my city’s walls. It would be an Aquia of a different flavor to be sure, but I thanked the Seasons it was not a dead Aquia. Pulling down the window, I shouted, feeling the first strong surge of excitement I had since the birth. “Stop!”
The carriage halted and confusion on the faces of my companions. Nervousness hopping around my stomach, I lowered myself from the carriage and strode towards the east, wading through the tall, waving amber grass of the field. Conscious that I was leaving the carriage further and further behind, I finally found what I was searching for there. There, bathed in the moonlight, was the blackened trunk of Astaro, that Pari tree whose destruction had begun all this. Even decapitated, left with only a fraction of its height, it towered over me. With no Pari pilgrimage in sight, it seemed remarkably ordinary, but for the queerness of a wide trunk, in its circumference as immense as a hundred fully-grown trees, sprouting from the middle of a field. I traced a finger over the trunk, recalling the meeting I had had with Gwydion’s lover the last time I had come here and with every rustle of the grass, I whipped around, thinking it was her. It reminded me of something...a dream...
Shaking my head, I circumnavigated the trunk, as I knew the Pari did, quietly whispering prayers to the Seasons: for the health of my family, for the lifting of the curse, for the success of Ghalain, to give me wisdom as a ruler and happiness as a woman, to keep the spirit of my daughter safe. I had never been particularly religious nor particularly spiritual, but I felt comforted, having whispered my heart’s desires aloud. Looking up at the stars, a vast canopy of glittering lights above me, I thought of how one had come and planted itself into the heart of the earth, sprouting this tree in its place. And how my birth had destroyed all that. But there was nothing I could do about that, and the Pari had dealt their punishment. Running my hand over the trunk one last time, I thought I brushed a budding leaf, but when I stroked that spot again, I felt nothing.
Rapidly, I strode back to the carriage and climbed within.
“Are you well, Your Majesty?” inquired Miri.
“Quite,” I replied. Sticking my head out the window, I urged the driver’s haste.
In response, he increased the horses’ pace, and I fell back onto the plush seat with a giggle. Clutching Oelphie’s hands, I grinned, “Home at last!”
The wheels rolled to a stop before the gates and a voice, with an accent obviously not Aquian, but more suited to the huskier tones of neighboring Nehajan, called down, “Who are you? Name yourself!”
Sticking my head out the window, I jovially yelled back, “Queen Selene of Ghalain, Emira-Regent of Aquia, and her entourage. Let us through!”
“Welcome, your Majesty!” he exclaimed, grinning from underneath his bristling mustache. The gate swung open on its oiled hinges.
Excitedly, I turned to Oelphie, Reyal, and Miri. “Welcome to my home! Ooh, look at these winding streets, hidden corners and alleys. I’ll confess—it’s not as well-plotted as Nyneveh, but by the Seasons, it’s beautiful.”
The three exchanged relieved smiles and I suddenly understood how much they had worried for my health. Feeling my upswell of joy, I knew that coming to Aquia, despite all of the tragic history with the curse and family, had been the right thing to do. Unbidden, an image of how this visit would have been were my family uncursed, swam in my mind. Uproarious music to greet me, the castle swimming in light, and my family, the whole troupe of them, ready to meet me with their spouses and children. A wistful smile crossed my face, and I resolved that once I returned to Nyneveh—no, starting tonight—I would begin in earnest my quest to lift the curse. The djinn, in their effort to subvert the Pari’s handiwork, had decreed that Auralia needed to be awoken by true love’s kiss. I would sift once again through her room tonight, searching for clues to a preexisting love. It would be difficult, but if I would not do it, then who could?
The carriage wound its way uphill through the streets, and reached the Mehal’s gates. Greeted with cheers, we were let through once again. Working through the dark grounds, we arrived before the dimly lit castle. Before the carriage stopped completely, I leaped onto the ground, swept past the guards, who bowed perplexedly, and entered my castle, only to be met by Gwydion’s flunkies Kay and Farzal.
By their wrinkled clothing, they had clearly been roused from sleep. While Kay seemed fresh enough, Farzal was hard-pressed to conceal his yawns behind a meaty hand.
Sweeping a bow, Kay said, “Your Majesty, welcome to Aquia. What a surprise your visit is!” His tone betrayed some reproach.
“I hope it did not inconvenience you in any way,” I answered bitingly, and he had the decency to appear chastened.
“Of course not, your Majesty,” butted in Farzal. “Servants are arranging rooms for you and your retinue as we speak. Until then, come to my parlor. My lady wife is arranging a small supper for you and your companions and we would be honored by your presence.”
I suppressed a twinge of irritation at his proprietorial use of possessive pronouns, but I shrugged it off as best I could. However much that they were Gwydion’s yes-men, they had done a superb job restoring Aquia. I knew that all around manors and farms in Aquia men like them were ensuring that the emirdom would not fail, even though it was not the land of their birth.
“Ah, so you married?” I answered genially, unbuckling my cloak and removing my hat and handing them to an obliging footman in violet and white Khamad livery.
He grinned which lent sparkle to his otherwise dull brown eyes. “Two months to the day, your Majesty.”
Kay coughed, shaking his amber hair. “Milady, let us progress onto supper, or Farzal will keep us here singing the praises of his lady all day.”
Finding myself liking them much more than I remembered, I chuckled. I had wante
d to visit my family first, but that would inconvenience the others—not to mention that my stomach was beginning to grumble tellingly. I had not eaten properly since Evela’s birth, but I felt my appetite returning at the spicy aroma of Aquian food. I gestured for Oelphie, Miri, and Reyal to follow me. Kay and Farzal had situated themselves in one of the many guest wings of the Mehal, commandeering a total of ten rooms between them. Entering, we saw the room had been prettily set up with vivid crimson and azure tapestries depicting hunts of horned eagles and antlered lions. Mismatched chairs surrounded a broad table, obviously brought in for the purpose of dinner. Suddenly, a blur of perfumed lavender swept a deep curtsy before me.
“Your Majesty, you honor us with your presence!” exclaimed the petite figure, raising her cobalt eyes. “The cooks have produced a small repast for you, and I do hope that you find it to your liking.”
Seated by Kay at the head of the table, I saw that the meal was typical Aquian fare: flat bread, spiced lamb and chicken stews, and tomato and onion salad. My mouth watered as a servant began slicing the lamb and piling it in tender morsels on my platter. “This is perfect, Lady…?”
“Meera of Ariya, your Majesty,” she replied breathlessly, nervously patting her chestnut hair. “What brings you here, your Majesty?” With sure fingers, she folded chicken into the flat bread and popped it into her mouth.
Wiping my hands on a napkin, I replied, “A brief vacation from ruling. I will be gone by the end of the week.”
If anything, the woman’s delicate face appeared crestfallen. “Your Majesty should stay longer.”
Shaking my head, I said, “Unfortunately, my place is in Nyneveh. Even this brief break was difficult to arrange.” Turning to Kay and Farzal, I added, “While I am here though, I will take the opportunity to look over the accounts and ledgers of Aquia.”
Kay nodded. “Absolutely, your Majesty,” he acquiesced smoothly. “All of the appropriate papers will be in your hands by the morning.”
I bowed my head in thanks. The rest of the brief supper was spent in lighthearted discussion. No mention was made of: Erina’s death, Gwydion’s place in it, the curse, and the first breaths of civil war that were racking Ghalain. Inwardly, I marveled at how much could not be discussed at a polite supper.
Once dinner had been carried away and I had refused an offer of tea, I was escorted to my room. Exhausted, I let Miri and Reyal dress me, not in one of my new, fine nightgowns, but the same pale blue bell-sleeved one I had slept in the last time I had been home. Slipping under the covers and inhaling the lemony scent of the soap the laundresses used, I felt a little of the pain of the past few days recede. Tomorrow, then, tomorrow I would begin to set my family aright.