Two Thousand Years

by M. Dalto

  The dead Empress shrugged. “Fine, let’s have it your way. Leave behind your life and all you’ve known and loved. Allow your unborn children to perish before even having the chance to live the lives destined for them. Leave your husband to mourn alone. Leave him be to deal with whatever barrage Reylor has planned against the Empire, vulnerable after its Empress’ passing, without a Prophecy to fulfill. Do all this, Alex, and you will not be any better than him.”

  “My Prince...Treyan. I am sorry—”

  “Don’t.”

  “She is gone.”

  “Here you are, defending your son, when you should be apologizing for what he’s done! This is all your fault! If you hadn’t—”

  “Alexstrayna, Reylor’s actions were reprehensible, both before and after his banishment. If I was still alive, I would have done all I could to make sure he lived along the path that should have been his. But instead, what has happened to Reylor is a darkness none could foresee, which is why you cannot leave Treyan—”

  “Didn’t you run away from everything? You gave up, too!”

  The former Queen Empress sighed. “It was my Fate to see you brought to the Empire. I watched as you were born, and my sons were born soon after. I raised them, as best as I could, but now it is up to you to help lead them down the paths they were supposed to follow.”

  “But Empress…” she tried to interrupt.

  “Alexstrayna, if it’s an apology you are looking for, accept mine. I am sorry, so truly sorry, for what has happened to you. If it were in my power, I would rewrite your Prophecy to keep it from ever happening again. But what is done is done, and you must fix it.”

  The apology from the Queen Empress humbled Alex, but before she could respond, Saratanya began walking towards her.

  “Do not let all that has occurred happen in vain, as painful as it may be. And through those happenings, only you can write your own future. As the Queen Empress, that is your Prophecy.”

  She was standing in front of Alex. The family resemblance was impeccable, that was for sure. In her heart, Alex knew what she had to do, but she felt she lacked the strength to do it. Forgiveness was not exactly at the forefront of her mind where Reylor was involved.

  As though she could read her thoughts, Saratanya placed a gentle hand on her cheek.

  “Alexstrayna, it is time to go back. Treyan is waiting for you. Your children will be the creators of a new Prophecy. Love them unconditionally, as I have always loved my own.”

  Alex nodded, tears filling her eyes.

  “Go.”

  Saratanya kissed her lightly on her forehead, and as soon as her lips touched her skin, the room filled with the blinding warm light, and all else disappeared.

  34

  The first breath was the most painful, and Alex found herself gasping as her life returned to her body. Her eyes still stung from tears, and she coughed as her chest heaved, her lungs struggling with each sharp intake of living air.

  Treyan was immediately by her side, helping her sit while yelling for someone—anyone—to get her a glass of water. The cup was brought, and she drank it down readily between deep breaths as she tried to calm her now-beating heart.

  When she appeared to be stable, Treyan wrapped his arms around her as sobs caused spasms to run through his body. Her own tears matched his as they remained within their embrace, and neither noticed the shock that overcame the Councillor and the healer as they stood silently, observing the Empress who had returned from the dead.

  Coming back to his senses, the Councillor cleared his throat, causing them to break their hug. Motioning to the Empress, Treyan nodded and stepped aside to allow him access to the bedside. The healer acted as though she had seen a ghost, Alex surmised as she placed a gentle hand to her neck, her head, her chest and her abdomen as though to check her vital signs. When all seemed well with both Alex and the babies, she bowed and escorted herself out, casting a glance towards the Councillor that he should do the same to allow the newlyweds some much-needed privacy. Questions, they assumed, would come at another time.

  They continued to hold each other close in peaceful silence as tears of relief and happiness fell. Eventually, she looked up to him.

  “Treyan?”

  “Hmm?”

  “We are going to make this right.”

  He looked at her, and she felt the same connection she had the first night they met.

  “And we’re going to do it together,” he promised.

  She nodded.

  He leaned down and kissed her on the lips, a true kiss as if to confirm his commitment.

  “Oh!” She jumped away from him in surprise.

  Treyan began to panic. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  She chuckled to herself. “No, not at all.”

  Taking his hand, she brought it to her belly and allowed him to intimately touch her for the first time since her return. Once his hand applied the slightest amount of pressure to her abdomen, Treyan was able to feel the babies move within her.

  Pride and joy overcame him as he held his wife in his arms, and the sadness and pain from the past seemed to melt away.

  “Alex,” he said softly, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. About what I suggested…what I wanted you to do.”

  She merely shook her head. Now wasn’t the time for that either, she decided as she clung to him tighter.

  As she snuggled into him, Treyan glanced down at her, and he gently brushed her hair away from her forehead as something caught his eye.

  “What’s that?” he asked, as he ran his thumb lightly over her skin.

  “What’s what?” She practically crossed her eyes trying to look up at his finger.

  “Hold on.” He got up to rummage through one of the infirmary’s cabinets and brought back a small hand mirror.

  Moving her hair aside, she saw upon her forehead, right in the middle above her brows, a light red starburst, looking similar to a healed burn.

  It was in the exact spot where Saratanya kissed her.

  “The Light of the Empire.” She couldn’t help but chuckle in amazement.

  “What did you say?” Treyan asked from behind the mirror.

  She smiled up at her husband.

  “Your mother says ‘hi.’”

  35

  Treyan once told her that it felt as though the Prophecy itself controlled the very essence of time within the Empire, and those words resounded more fiercely than ever through her as Alex regained her footing after the wedding. It was almost as though it aimed to accommodate those who needed it the most, and none needed it more than she.

  Never one to let an ailment hold her back, Alex continued with her duties as the Queen Empress to the best of her abilities, and no one tried to tell her otherwise. She had come back from the dead, after all. She might be immortal for all they knew.

  The main focus after the wedding’s infiltration was the Borderlands.

  Reylor hadn’t once attempted to infiltrate Alex’s dreams, but often she wondered if it was because of Treyan’s proximity, or from the little training she had gleamed herself to erect mental shields to keep him out. Knowing well it was most likely the former than the latter, she still made an effort to strengthen her own potential, now that she was both Queen Empress and wife to the Crown Prince.

  Even so, shields were cast around the palace for added magical protection. When Alex asked Treyan where such power came from, he informed her that Reylor wasn’t the only one who could have mages under his employ but didn’t divulge more information than that. She wondered where they had been, why they hadn’t been put to use until now, but decided another time would be better for such questions.

  It still remained unknown how Reylor was able to infiltrate the palace on the night of the coronation. The guards on duty insisted they maintained their positions, but all agreed that there something else at play—magic, poison—but how it would have been administered without being detected was the greater mystery.

  Nevertheless, by de
cree of the Empire, they ordered barricades and barracks to be erected within every province, and insisted the lords enlist their bravest and strongest should the Empire be attacked. Neither Treyan or Alex kept the knowledge of Reylor’s presence quiet. After the incident at the wedding, they had no choice but to publicly declare him a threat to the Empire and proclaimed they would do all they could to assist in protecting their lands from the threat of the banished Lord Steward.

  The patrols along the tree line brought back little news, and what they did deliver was nothing more than what was already expected. Reylor was sending scouts over the Borderlands, who, in turn, met the Empire’s own border patrol. Every attempt to apprehend a minion was foiled, as they would slit their own throats before further interrogations could begin. Reylor was not playing games.

  Neither were they.

  Treyan ceased his travels between the palace and the northern villages. Both he and Alex agreed his place was needed within the Empire. Something needed to be done, and they would no longer going to be sitting around, waiting for Reylor’s next attack.

  Their first task was mapping the Borderlands, but as Treyan had never been there, and Alex’s memories of her trek were vague at best, they had to resort to the history books. All they could find within the palace’s library, however, were maps drawn prior to the ancient war. But once that had ended the record of the Empire ended at the tree line—the Borderlands were forbidden territory for the last two thousand years. Without a map, there was no ability to strategize an army’s advance. They spent countless hours analyzing how they could possibly obtain the upper hand.

  This was no longer just about vengeance.

  This was war.

  The funeral pyre for Mallia was held as soon as Alex was strong enough to see over it herself. As Empress, and as a friend, she felt it was her place to make sure the murdered mistress was sent off properly for her loyal service. She owed it to Jamison and their young son, who found a place in Alex's heart as she considered her own unborn twins, and her chest tightened at the thought of ever having to raise them alone.

  It was still undetermined how Mallia had been taken. The Councillor conducted an in-depth investigation, questioning everyone who may have come in contact with the mistress on the day of the wedding, or possibly seen something that suggested what had happened. Alex, the other two mistresses, Treyan, even Jamison—all were questioned, but they were still no closer to an answer.

  Alex refused to let guilt consume her. Fearful for the safety of the rest of her mistresses, she attempted to fully release them from their service. Drew seemed more than happy to leave the palace, commenting that there was nowhere safe anymore, and barely said her farewells before she was packed up and returning home to her village in the west.

  Bria, however, seemed more reluctant to leave. It was Alex’s understanding that she had no family, no other source for her income, but Alex would not allow another death to be on her hands, so instead she gave Bria a brief sabbatical with a stipend that would keep support her until her services were needed once again.

  Of course, the Councillor was insistent that allowing them to leave was against protocol and tradition, that the Empress always had her Mistresses should she ever need anything, but Alex reminded him that, in the end, this was Reylor's doing—not hers—and she would see to it that he would pay dearly for every damn change in their traditions.

  As Alex came back to the normal course of daily life, she did so with Treyan at her side. She owed it to him, and to herself, to try her best to move forward, and Saratanya’s final words remained with her as the days carried on.

  Forgiveness, however, would be for another day.

  He had apologized for what he had suggested regarding terminating the pregnancy, but that it was even a thought in his mind was not forgotten.

  He said that even though the Councillor forbade it, he was still within the north to attempt to retrieve her from the Borderlands. But that was weeks later.

  She could allow herself to look at the faults in what he had done in the past or continue to try to focus on the future.

  Perhaps he knew that as well.

  Treyan was cautious whenever he was around her and allowed Alex any additional time and space she would need to heal. Even he knew regardless of how well she appeared on the outside, there were still wounds that needed mending on the inside. The road to recovery would be hers to walk, but she knew he would be there whenever she needed him, whatever the outcome.

  The twins were beginning to make Alex physically uncomfortable, and she soon found her favorite time of day was when the royal obligations had come to an end, she and Treyan had exhausted the day's researching resources, and she could retire to her room to put up her feet.

  She just finished changing into her thin sleeping gown, the pregnancy was leaving her feeling like a walking furnace, when a knock came to the door. Assuming it was one of the palace's servants checking on her dinner plate, she bid them to enter while she tied her loose hair up into a bun.

  Instead, Treyan stuck his head through the door, his eyes scanning the room for her. She stopped mid-tie when she saw him. He hadn't called on her once since the wedding, wanting to give her the space she requested so long ago. She realized she never told him otherwise and hadn't found the opportunity with all that happened to bring it up. Seeing him made her heart pound in her chest, but she couldn't get the words out upon his entrance.

  He seemed to have a purpose and smiled slightly upon seeing her.

  “I'm sorry if this is a bad time...”

  “No,” she assured him, bringing her arms down and subconsciously crossing them over her bosom. “It's fine. What's going on?”

  “I just wanted to remind you about tomorrow morning. The Council is going to want an update of our progress if we're to expect any resources from the outlying villages.”

  She nodded. “Of course, I should have put the report with the books.” She began walking over to the pile on her sitting table.

  “It's okay.” He smiled at her enthusiasm. “We can go over it in the morning.”

  “Oh, okay.” She stood there, feeling awkward before the man who was supposed to be her husband.

  His smile remained, however, and he bowed his head. “Good night, Empress.”

  He took his head out of the door and almost shut it before she could let out the “Wait!” she didn't expect coming. Neither did he, for it was his turn to have a look of surprise upon his face with eyes wide and features startled.

  “This is stupid, Treyan,” Alex declared as she began walking towards the door. She took the handle in her hand and opened it wide. “Come in.”

  “Alex, I don't know if that's a good idea,” he stammered.

  “This has been going on for far too long. Come in, if only to talk?”

  Treyan looked at her, head cocked to the side as he assessed the ramifications of her request.

  “Please?” she asked again.

  Letting out a breath, he nodded. “As you wish. We can talk for the moment, but you need your rest.”

  He walked past her, and she noticed he was still in the day's clothes. She suddenly felt incredibly under-dressed and put on the robe from the end of her bed while he took a seat in the nearby chair.

  She couldn't sit herself, she realized as she began pacing across the room. What was she going to say? What could she say? I'm sorry for completely blowing you off because I couldn't handle my own shit?

  Treyan gave her all the time she needed while he watched her move about. A part of her wished he would say something, and another part hoped he would have denied her request for an audience in the first place. Her heart was pounding, and as though in retaliation, the babies began to battle against the confines of their prison.

  “Oh, you two are not helping,” she muttered down to her stomach while her hands met the internal pressure.

  “What's that?” he asked, and she turned to him.

  She couldn't help but smile. “They don
't like me being very active these days.”

  “All the more reason for you to relax. Come, sit?” He motioned to the chair opposite him.

  With no other excuse, Alex took the seat across from Treyan.

  “Treyan, I—” she began, but he cut her off.

  “Alex, let me,” he insisted, and she was pleased to hear him speak.

  His hair was out of its binding, and she loved the way he would run his hands through it whenever he had thoughts he needed to gather. She knew he caught her staring and smiled with slight embarrassment.

  “I owe you a lot of answers. And I don’t know if they’re going to be good ones, but please let me try.”

  She watched him and nodded.

  “I should have come to you sooner. I know I should have—and I tried. I had Jamison and ten guards ready to travel to the Borderlands the day you were taken, but the Councillor barred our way with his own battalion. He threatened us, Alex. He said if there was anyone who dared to travel north, they’d be banished, or worse. They believed him—even Jamison.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  Treyan shook his head. “I don’t know, and I swore no matter what I did, it was as though he was watching me. Finally, I had had enough, and convinced Jamison to come with me to the northern village. I think he knew what I had in mind, but the Councillor couldn’t deny me the rebuilding efforts. That’s where we were when you crossed over.”

  “You really would have come? You would have invaded the Borderlands and stormed the castle?”

  His azure stare held hers as he said, “We were going to come that night. The only thing that stopped us was you.”