Two Thousand Years

by M. Dalto

  Jamison cast a small glance to Alex before returning his attention to his Prince. “There was an ambush on one of the northern villages two days back. Riders just arrived, and with them a handful of survivors.”

  “A handful?” Alex chimed in. “How large was the village?”

  Jamison looked pale as he answered. “At least a hundred. Mainly women and children. It was an outpost for the army that maintains the tree line between us and the Borderlands.”

  “Fisc,” Treyan swore, and he was already moving towards Jamison’s horse.

  “You’re not going out there,” Jamison instructed him, and Treyan cast him a glare. “The Councillor sent me to get you because of the reports we’re receiving. And to ensure both you and the Empress return safe.”

  “I can handle it—”

  “Not now, you can’t,” Jamison insisted, with another knowing glance to Alex. “I’ll escort the Empress back to the palace. The Councillor and the riders are in the war room.”

  Treyan pursed his lips, looking between Alex and Jamison one last time. “If anything happens to her, Captain—”

  “On my honor, Crown Prince.”

  It seemed good enough for Treyan, for he kicked the horse into a gallop and left them to their walk as he made his way back to the palace.

  Alex watched until he disappeared from sight before finding the words to speak. “How many is a handful, Jamison?” she asked again, her voice small.

  “Twenty,” he said quietly. “And they’re going to need their Empress now more than ever.”

  Of the twenty, there were twelve women and eight children, five of which were orphaned.

  Alex followed Jamison to the war room nestled on the basement floor of the palace, a large chamber lined with tables piled with paperwork, chairs occupied by concerned guards and servants, and weapons stashed against the walls should they be needed. As she walked through the crowd of people, to where Treyan stood next to the Councillor upon a small dais at one end, she couldn’t help but feel the eyes upon her or hear the whisper of her name. Among that whisper, however, came other news she wished she could have ignored.

  One of the riders stood next to a woman holding an infant, and Treyan looked devastated as he heard them out. Of the other eighty inhabitants, they were either lucky to be away, killed on sight, or too injured to make the trip to the palace to tell their story. Of the men who composed the army, it seemed the ambushers chose a day when they knew their attention would be focused on patrols and training far enough away where the attack could occur in the quickest amount of time with the greatest amount of destruction.

  And the only way that could have been done was by magic.

  “Was he there?” Treyan asked the rider after the woman finished, tears in her eyes.

  “He was not, my Prince,” the rider informed him with a shake of his head. “And the mages were gone by the time we arrived.”

  Treyan’s countenance remained dark but he didn’t waver as he addressed the woman who stood as the representative of the ruined village. “You’re all welcome to remain within the protection of the palace until your homes can be rebuilt.”

  “What of the children, my Prince?” she asked respectfully. “There are those who have lost more than a home.”

  “We will foster then in the village nearby until family can be summoned. But while the arrangements are made, accommodations will be provided within the palace. And we will do everything we can to correct the wrong that has been done.”

  The woman responded, but Alex’s attention was diverted as a small tug pulled on her pants, and she looked down to see a soot-covered little boy, no older than five with large eyes and tussled hair looking up at her.

  “Are you the Empress?” he asked, and Alex swore the room hushed as the attention of the nearby bystanders drifted towards her.

  Swallowing, her face flushed, she knelt down to meet the young boy at eye level. “What’s your name?” she asked gently, trying to avoid the question.

  “Cairn,” he answered. “What’s yours?”

  “Alex,” she said with a smile, though the widening of the boy’s eyes told her she had already given herself away.

  “You are the Empress,” he whispered, hope lingering in his gaze. “So that means if you’re here, you’re going to make this better, right?”

  Alex felt her heart break in her ribcage as her smile turned sad. “I’m sure the Crown Prince will be able to help in any way he can.”

  “But you’re the Empress,” Cairn corrected her. “My mom said that if you’re here, then this can’t ever happen again!”

  What she didn’t want to tell him was that she had been there for weeks now, and it didn’t seem to keep anything from happening. But her eyes scanned the crowd. “Where is your mom?”

  “She didn’t make the trip,” he said sadly, and Alex felt her eyes sting with sympathetic tears.

  “Apologies, Empress,” one of the other village women murmured as she came over to urge Cairn away, but what was done was done. She watched Cairn walk away with his head hung low and the woman held him close, but as she stood, Alex knew the pain in her chest wasn’t going to easily dissipate. Not now. Not like this.

  “Is everything alright?” Jamison asked from where he remained beside her.

  “I think I just found my why,” she said quietly, looking up and meeting the curious gaze of the Empire’s Crown Prince.

  Treyan heard the rest of the testimony from the accounts of what happened in the village, and the meeting lasted for the remainder of the afternoon and into the early evening.

  Alex remained for all of it.

  She listened to every story, pictured every detail.

  Her nails had punctured the skin of her palms by the time the gathering ended, and her rage was surging through her like an untethered beast.

  Jamison had excused himself early on, insisting he return to Mallia, and would report first thing in the morning to assist with preparations for their next steps. In truth, Alex didn’t blame him; the only difference between their village and the one that was attacked was the proximity to the palace. Knowing that his wife and newborn son remained there without him, after hearing what had happened to similar families—Alex gave him credit for remaining as long as he did.

  The Councillor had taken point on sending messages to the remaining villages, informing their lords and leaders about the attack—that they were to prepare themselves for the possibility of the same, and to inquire as to whether any remaining relatives resided within their walls to assist the orphans who arrived. Treyan and the Councillor worked together to compose each letter, and the candles burned low and the suns had fully set before the elder gentleman bowed to the Empress with his hands full of the sealed correspondence ready to be sent.

  Treyan collapsed back into his chair, exhaustion written across his face as he pulled the leather strap from his hair to allow his dark tresses to hang loose. Alex, who had remained standing along the nearby wall, slowly made her approach upon the dais.

  “What will we do now?” she asked somberly, perching on the arm of his chair.

  “We’ll wait for responses from the outlying territories and try to make the survivors as comfortable as we can in the meantime.”

  “And the children?”

  “There’s an orphanage a day’s travel away. If their families don’t answer, that’s where they’ll have to go.”

  “All of them?” she inquired, thinking of Cairn and the look in his eyes when he asked if she was, in fact, the Empress.

  Treyan nodded. “I can’t exactly force families to foster them, not with all else going on.”

  “What about us?” she asked and Treyan’s eyes widened.

  “What us?”

  She brushed him off. “The palace—isn’t there use for pages or squires or whatever it is you call them?”

  He considered for a moment. “Does this have anything to do with that boy I saw you speaking with earlier?”

  Alex sh
rugged, standing. “I would just hate to see them tossed aside like—”

  “Like what?” Treyan snapped. “Do you truly think we’re not going to help them?”

  “I want to do more than just send them to an orphanage, like they’re a forgotten toy or a lost piece of luggage.”

  “Alex—”

  “Find some place for them here,” she insisted. “Give them that chance.”

  Treyan sighed. “It could take time. We will need to see what families come to claim them, and what we can support here.”

  “So, we do what we can, however we can do it.”

  His eyes moved up to meet hers at that. “You keep saying ‘we.’”

  She swallowed and avoided his gaze, pacing a few steps as she, too, realized the word she had been using. It was on her mind ever since she spoke with Cairn, ever since she heard the stories from the women of the broken village. It was a word that tugged at her heart and pulled at her thoughts as she considered that maybe this was something she could do. Maybe she could finally help. Maybe that barista from Boston, looking for her place for all those years, was just looking in the wrong places.

  Slowly she turned to face Treyan again, and his sapphire-blue eyes were intent on her, assessing every movement she made.

  “I need paper, a pen, and some time to write.”

  “The Councillor has already sent the correspondence—”

  “I need them…for me. I need to write home. To my parents, my friends, my job.” She huffed out a small laugh, thinking about her mundane existence after everything she had experienced in the time she’d been within the Empire. “You told me once you’d be able to get those to them for me. Is that still the case?”

  Treyan stood from his chair slowly, taking his time as he closed the distance between them, as if afraid he was going to scare her like a timid animal if he moved too fast. “You wish to stay?”

  “I wish to write letters to those I’ll possibly be leaving behind,” she said quietly. “I’ll let you know of my decision if I can get through them without changing my mind.”

  17

  Alex spent the remainder of the night and a good portion of the next day writing letters.

  To her parents, she informed them she had decided that she was going to take her independent journey beyond Boston and attempt a backpacking trip through Europe or perhaps beyond, depending on her motivation, but would be without cell phone or internet so instant communication would be near-impossible. But she promised to write when she could and left it at that.

  To Crystal, she wrote something similar, needing to keep the story copasetic should her parents make the attempt to corroborate with her once her letter was received. In both, however, she insisted that she loved them all, and continued to think of them, and would miss them on her journey.

  It wasn’t a lie.

  To her employer, however, she was a little less sentimental. That the letter was considered her notice of resignation, and though she appreciated the experience gained from her time making high-end espresso drinks, she found her time, effort, and energies were better served elsewhere.

  The joy in Treyan’s eyes when she delivered the letters to him the next day was unsurmountable, but she was too tired to speak of it any further and slept until the following morning.

  With her decision made, Alex continued on with the studies required of the Empress. In addition to royal pleasantries, she learned the current hospitality customs for when nobles visited the palace, and as she expected, there were in fact, dance lessons; Treyan assisted as her partner, and as much as he protested, he was an excellent lead. She learned the inner dealings of each province within the Empire and discovered that she would need to visit them each soon after the coronation ceremony. The people expected it of the Empress, the Councillor explained, and it was her place as the newest addition to the royal family to make them feel a closer connection to the palace.

  In light of the attack on the northern village, the latter was likely going to need to occur sooner than later. Especially as the placement of the orphans had begun, but still there were responses that had not arrived, and if Alex had to make the trips to those provinces herself, she would do it.

  The coronation itself would be a ceremonious event where the lords, dignitaries, and figureheads of the Empire's surrounding provinces and villages would venture to the palace for a week's worth of celebration and festivities. With the news of the ambush having been delivered with the warnings of Reylor’s mages being closer than ever expected, the Councillor insisted that the coronation ceremony would prove that the Empire remained solid and unaffected despite the threats. No one, not even the banished Lord Steward, would get in the way of the Empire or its Prophecy, therefore the ceremony was to go on without delay.

  Regarding the Betrayer, there had been no word from neither Reylor nor his minions since the attack; though additional guards and sentries were posted along the bordering tree line in preparation for any possible infiltration. With the heightened threat, Treyan reduced his personal rangings at the request of Alex and the Councillor both. She often used the coronation preparations as an excuse to keep Treyan close, perhaps even to keep his mind off what was happening elsewhere within the Empire when he could not be there personally. She was selfishly worried more about his well-being than anything else, and she knew he was aware of this, but he did her the kindness of going along with her requests.

  As for their relationship, knowing that they were destined for did not leave her mind, but she was still thankful for the time that they could build a real bond. Whether it was because of the magic of the Prophecy, or because there was something genuine between them, Alex soon discovered that Treyan complimented her as the ideal mate should; even his quirks were tolerable- picking his teeth after a meal, his refusal to read for pleasure- just as she assumed hers were to him.

  Since the night in the cave, Alex found she appreciated the warmth of Treyan’s body next to hers, with or without their clothes. And while sleeping in his arms, the threat of unwanted dreams and lingering nightmares seemed to dissipate. Whether it was through his own magic or something else, she didn’t care. Their nights were spent in each other's beds, but Treyan was stubborn in his ways, and their advances never went beyond lingering kisses and exploring hands. He constantly reminded her that their time would come, that it would be special, and that it would be important. Sometimes she wondered if the mantra was just for her alone, or to also keep his own hormones in check.

  But it was patience he asked for, so patience she gave.

  Treyan lay disheveled on her bed, and it always made her feel content, knowing she could render him as such. His dark hair was loose, and it surrounded his head like a pool during the night. His eyes were closed, and his chest was heaving. She didn’t give him much time to relax, however, for she slid her naked body on top of his, kissing him deeply, hoping he had more in him as she straddled him.

  He returned the kiss, but the moment she landed on top of him, he stopped. “You know tomorrow is going to be a very long and busy day.”

  She looked down at him, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “Oh, that whole coronation thing? Nah, I got this one covered.” She began kissing him again.

  He let her kiss him, but again stopped her a moment later. “The Empress needs her beauty sleep,” he insisted.

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Let’s just have this moment now.”

  “We will have plenty of moments, Alex, I can promise you that. But right now…”

  He wrapped his legs up around her waist, and using his body strength, flipped her over onto the bed, so it was he who was now straddling her. “Right now, you need to go to bed.”

  He held her wrist down upon the bed, and she bit her lip playfully as she looked up at him. “You’re so mean.”

  “You have no idea.” He leaned down to kiss her, and though she could feel him hardening between her legs, she knew he would not submit to his desire.

  She decid
ed it was best for her own sanity to stop the madness before it got worse, and she playfully pushed him off of her. He rolled aside, but not far, for he would remain with her throughout the night. Feigning anger, she rolled over away from him, covering herself as she went. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind, and the warmth of him allowed her to relax.

  “Treyan?”

  “Hmm?” he murmured into her hair.

  “What happens after tomorrow?”

  “After tomorrow you will be Queen Empress Alexstrayna, the daughter of Saviors, and the Light of the Empire.”

  “You’ve been hanging around the Councillor too much.”

  He chuckled softly. “You’re not wrong.”

  “What will happen to you?”

  “Me? I get to play the part of the Crown Prince, welcoming the liege lords to our palace. But the attention isn’t going to be on me, Empress, and I am quite alright with that.”

  “Lucky you.”

  He hugged her tightly, letting his arms remain draped on her hips. “Everything will be fine. Just remember, you were born for this day. Everything will go just as it should, and once the ceremonies are over, hopefully you’ll finally be able to enjoy all the Empire has to offer.”

  She nestled into him. “You better be right, because so far all I’ve seen are rules, regulations, restrictions and remorse.”

  His brows furrowed at that, even as he said, “I’m always right.” Kissing her neck, he murmured against her skin. “I promise, Alex. We’ll get beyond this, and we’ll be able to be happy.”

  As much as she wanted to challenge his optimism, she also wanted to believe him, and nodded as the thoughts of what was to come began to lull her into sleep.

  18

  Alex awoke the next morning to a knocking at the door. As Treyan was already awake and dressed while she remained naked and lounging in bed, he did her the favor of checking to see who could have been disrupting the Empress’ extremely comfortable slumber. He must have opened the door for she could hear the faint mumble of a hushed conversation in the distance. The door closed again and soon he was sitting next to her on the bed.