The woman did not respond, placing her head in both of her hands and continuing to sob.
Trevain placed a hand on her back, looking up helplessly as Sionna carried his grandmother away. There was noisy chaos and pandemonium churning all around them as reporters who had been covering the ribbon ceremony quickly switched the focus of their story. Many onlookers were frightened and upset about the dead men, while even more of them were panic-stricken by the attacks on the innocent queen. Even more were excited by the identity of the queen’s mysterious defender, crying out or whispering in thanks to ‘The Sapphire.’ Staring through the widespread, hectic bedlam, Trevain’s eyes fell on the woman who had saved his wife. He had seen her many times before, but this was the first time that he was absolutely sure of what he was seeing. He observed as she stared after Visola, running a hand through her darkening hair absentmindedly.
Feeling his eyes on her, she turned to look at him. When their eyes met, Trevain felt the mayhem and commotion around him suddenly slow down, and the uproar of voices seemed to grow quiet. He was suddenly aware of the fact that he was smiling, and that she was sheepishly smiling too.
“Aazuria,” he said tenderly, moving across the stage as though mesmerized.
“I—um, I took your sword,” she said, handing it back to him awkwardly.
He stared down at the weapon, imagining that as soon as he took it from her hand, she would run away again. Instead, he pushed her arm aside and stepped closer so he could wrap his arms around her. She stood stiffly for a second before gingerly returning the embrace. When the Adluvians around them began to clap and cheer, Aazuria blushed furiously and pulled away so that the embrace would not last longer than appropriate. In one swift motion, she hastily shoved the ceremonial blade back into its sheath at his waist.
“No one of consequence?” he demanded with a sly smile.
She lowered her eyes. “I did not want you to lose sleep over it.”
“Aazuria, I lost sleep over it for ten years!”
“So did I,” she answered, “but things have changed. It wasn’t important anymore.”
“It wasn’t important?” Trevain repeated angrily. “How could you think that you weren’t important to me? We were going to have a child!”
“Do you still get pissed off so easily?” she asked with a nostalgic smile. “I had forgotten.”
“Zuri,” spoke a broken voice from the ground. Elandria had been unable to stop weeping, and both Trevain and Aazuria moved closer to her. “Words cannot express my remorse. You should be sentencing me to death and instead you have saved my life.”
“Oh, hush,” Aazuria said quietly. “You ridiculous girl.”
“Sedna, forgive me,” Elandria whispered. She tried to pull herself to her feet shakily, just so that she could lower her body again in the deepest of curtsey. “Sister, I understand that you will never forgive me.”
“For crying out loud!” Aazuria said, shaking her head. “Get off your knees, Elandria; a queen does not bow to anyone.”
“A queen bows to the rightful queen.”
Aazuria moved forward to console her sister immediately. She reached out to touch the younger woman’s arm, but she suddenly felt the horror of the situation sink into her chest and rip away her levity and humor. She swallowed, feeling the urge to fall to her own knees and throw her arms around Elandria, but the atmosphere around her seemed to have thickened, preventing her motion. It seemed that her pride was congealing around her and preventing her from moving.
“Rise,” she commanded. She was stricken by how stern her own voice sounded. It was hypocritical to be giving orders to her sister while trying to acknowledge her reign. Aazuria reached down to grip Elandria’s arm and help her to her feet. As she firmly grasped her sister’s bicep, trying to communicate something reassuring and loving in the squeeze, she saw the tears coursing down her sister’s cheeks and remembered everything. Elandria was made of porcelain, with a heart so fragile that it was paper-thin. Aazuria was scared to breathe and flutter the paper too harshly, tearing it asunder by her mere existence. She tried to smile to set the woman’s mind at ease, but she could not seem to control the muscles in her face. “Elan…” She tried to think of the right words to say, but Elandria seemed too distraught to understand her. “You did the right thing.”
“No!” Elandria gasped, throwing herself against Aazuria’s chest. “I have wronged you beyond all wrongs, and you should never forgive me.”
“Sweetheart,” Aazuria said softly, hugging her sister. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered the small, quiet girl she had known for ten lifetimes. Underneath the new curves of Elandria’s body, and the new resonance of her voice, Aazuria could feel that her sister was the exact same, delicate soul. She looked up at Trevain, who seemed completely at a loss for words, and heartbroken by the situation. She forced that smile firmly onto her lips. “I could have been killed quite easily. I barely escaped at all, as it was. In my absence I would expect no less than for you two to take care of each other. You have been right to do so, and I thank you.”
“God, Aazuria,” Trevain said with a guttural groan. “Will you please just get angry about this?”
She sent him a puzzled look. “I can see nothing negative in that the two people I loved most have found love in each other. I am happy for your happiness.” Even as she said this, her chest constricted. She was being honest. She did feel glad, and she wanted very badly to feel only gladness; but there was an awful bitterness sneaking in behind her inner peace, as much as she tried to chase it away. Why should she need to be perfect anymore? Why should she not allow herself to be human and upset? She was no longer the queen. As she glanced at the Adluvians who were all gesturing to her excitedly, some of whom were still on their knees, she swallowed. No; she was no longer the queen, but she was somehow much more than that.
“You must punish me, Aazuria,” Elandria was saying. “Please punish me justly.”
“Do not be asinine! This is why I did not come home at once. This is why I would never have shown myself if it had not been necessary. All I want is for you both to be well; I want you both to be happy.”
“And I want my sister back!” Elandria said brokenly. “Please come home, Zuri. Please.”
Trevain snorted. “Why are you asking her nicely? We’re not giving her an option in this. She’s coming home. You’re coming home, Aazuria! For one thing, if you don’t, Visola is going to tear Adlivun apart right after she tears me a new one. Are you going to let that happen to me?”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him suspiciously. “Have you always been so forceful? I remember you being nice.”
“I’ll give you an unpleasant reminder of how forceful I can be if you decide to abandon your family again and go frolicking about with the Sisters of Sedna and their fucking fancy green dresses! We need you at home, Aazuria.” He stepped forward and glared at her intently. “Your sister needs you. My grandmother needs you. I need you.”
Aazuria returned his glare fiercely, locking eyes with him in a tense battle of gazes. When she finally spoke, she did so very slowly, carefully enunciating each word. “I did not abandon my family,” she said venomously. “How dare you say that to me! I was taken by force. I fought to get back to you. If only you knew what it was like, and what I’ve been through…”
“I’m sorry,” Trevain said, reaching out to hug her again fiercely. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry, Zuri. I have no idea what happened to you—please know that I searched. I tried my hardest to find you, but it wasn’t good enough.”
His embrace seemed to liquefy her insides, and she felt her strength slipping away. Aazuria wished that she had never needed to reveal herself. Now that they knew, no one could be happy. Elandria was sobbing. Could she erase this? Could she go back to ten minutes earlier and not reveal herself? No. She would do the same thing all over again. She would much rather her sister be deeply saddened than deeply impaled by a harpoon.
When she felt Trevain�
��s hand move over her back protectively, her insides seemed to contort with longing. She could not bear to be so close to him, and she pushed him away. Tears began gathering in her eyes, and she turned to look at Varia. The young girl was staring at her dolefully and trying to move forward and run to her mother, but Glais was holding her back. Looking at her daughter reminded her that there was nothing to be gained from feeling sorry for herself and mourning her lost years and lost love. What’s done is done, she told herself, straightening her spine. She instantly re-solidified all the mushy, melted parts of her that had come undone at Trevain’s touch. Even in this tragedy, I have gained more than I have lost. Now, I have Varia. I have never had more than I have at this moment. Even in this sorry state of affairs, we have all gained something.
She was startled by a soft hand slipping into hers, and she turned to see her sister’s pleading eyes. “Come home,” Elandria begged. “I don’t care about anything else on earth, Aazuria. Nothing matters. Please, sister. He is yours! You can have him…”
“I don’t want your sloppy leftovers,” she answered instantly.
“Hey, what?” Trevain said, wounded.
Aazuria observed the horrified looks on their faces for a moment before she burst out laughing. “Sorry—I was just trying to make a joke. I know it’s poor timing and my comedic skills are dismal—but if Visola weren’t unconscious, she would be making a joke right now, wouldn’t she?”
“Do not be cruel, sister. Just say you will come home,” Elandria urged. She squeezed her sister’s hand hopefully. “You’re the rightful queen regnant, and everything will be returned to you…”
“I don’t want to be the queen,” Aazuria said with a smile, “but if you let everything remain as it is, I will come home. Besides, I will not be alone. I have someone I love more than anything in the world.”
“You do?” Trevain asked in surprise, his voice laced with unbridled jealousy. “You—you found someone else?”
Aazuria laughed softly. She turned to the children and held out her hand. This was all the encouragement Varia needed to break away from Glais and spring forward, plastering herself to Aazuria’s side. “Haven’t you met our daughter?” she asked with an honest, easy smile.
Trevain’s face had frozen as he stared down at the young girl, processing this information.
“I missed you so much, Mama,” Varia was saying as she pressed her face into Aazuria’s stomach. She struggled with her tears as she tightly gripped the red fabric of the extravagant coat. “If they know who you are, can we tell them the truth about everything now?”
“Yes, darling,” Aazuria said, putting a hand in her daughter’s hair. She felt a lump in her throat, somehow happier to be reunited with Varia after the brief separation than with her family after the extensive one. She supposed that she had gotten accustomed to having no one but her daughter. She lifted her eyes to Trevain, trying to quell the love that threatened to shatter her chest with its power. “I thought you should know her. I snuck her into the palace so she could be close to you.”
“She lived,” Trevain whispered, his face contorting with the overwhelming emotion. He lowered himself to his knees, unable to resist the flood of tears that exploded from lungs, stealing his breath and drowning his eyes. He sobbed as he held out his arms to Varia. “You’re alive, kid.”
Varia could not watch her father crying without feeling the tears gush down over her own face. She moved forward to hug him, crying harder than she had ever cried in her entire life. She could not seem to stop sobbing; feeling the man’s strong, protective arms around her was the best feeling she could ever remember feeling. It was different now that he knew why she was hugging him. It was far better than the first time she had seen the sunrise over Antarctica; the sunshine had been disappointing, but her father was not.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t name you after a sports car,” he concluded, between body-rocking sobs.
Varia laughed at this, and learned that it was possible to laugh and cry at the same time. She could not seem to stop doing either, and each emotion fed the other, blending into one. “Maybe someday you can teach me to drive one, Father,” Varia said with a laugh. Her eyes suddenly fell upon Glais, and she saw that he was crying too. She remembered that Glais had just lost his own father, and she felt suddenly guilty for her own happiness. It was not fair.
But Glais smiled at her, with understanding amber eyes that plainly told her he did not want her to be sad for him. She was startled that she could understand so much from a mere look; she believed that this must be what it meant to have a friend.
“I don’t know how you managed to do this, Aazuria,” Trevain said as he made a valiant attempt at crushing the life out of Varia, “but thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
“I had a little help with making her, at least initially—but if you squash her into a pancake, I will be far less thrilled about your role in all this.” Even as she tried to put a mild tone of warning into her voice, she could not help smiling.
“She’s magnificent,” Trevain told Aazuria over his daughter’s head as he continued to hold her. His green eyes were serious and piercing. “You’re magnificent.”
Aazuria felt warmth spreading within her chest as she watched Trevain close his eyes and rest his face against Varia’s shoulder. She only had a few seconds to enjoy the scene before she was startled by a shrill voice behind her.
“Excuse me, ma’am! We have spectacular video footage of you defending Queen Elandria from her would-be assassins. Would you be kind enough to give us a statement to clarify your identity to our viewers?”
She saw that the reporter who had thrust the microphone into her face was from some American television station. Self-consciously wiping at the blood in her fur-trimmed sleeves from the men she had killed, she considered sending the woman away or ignoring her altogether. Then an idea struck her. Something in Aazuria instantly switched from woman to warrior as she gazed directly into the camera, flinging the tears from her cheeks with the flick of her wrist.
“I am Queen Aazuria Vellamo, and I was captured by our enemies a decade ago. I was incarcerated for nine years, giving birth to my daughter and raising her in an isolated, remote prison. The prince who abducted me revealed the name of an American mole who knew of my location and was working with the Clan of Zalcan to oppress my country: a man named Marshal Gaston Landou. I have evidence that this man murdered the daughter of General Visola Ramaris with poison, and recently attempted to do the same to King Trevain.”
“I have watched my people forced to work themselves to the bone on the transpacific bridge, having soldiers point rifles at them if they refused to labor for three consecutive shifts.” Aazuria gestured toward Glais. “I watched this young man’s father get shot in the head because he wanted to return home to his son after sixteen hours of unpaid labor. None of this was part of the agreement my sister signed for the protection of our nation. So you see, we do not require your protection any longer. Henceforth, we will protect ourselves.”
“That is appalling, Queen Aazuria! Can you tell us a little more about where you were held captive? Do you or your daughter require hospitalization and rehabilitation into society? Do you think that you might have developed some post-traumatic mental illnesses? How long do you think it will take you to recover from this incident?”
Aazuria simultaneously frowned, smiled, and lifted her eyebrows at this ridiculous question. “If you require a statement, here it is: I am the woman whom my countrymen call the Sapphire. I am ready to put personal tragedy aside and focus completely on not only the preservation of my kingdom but its betterment. Thank you.”
Chapter 21: A Whole New War
“How long do you think it will take them all to get sick?” Namaka asked as the plane descended. She could just make out the air traffic controller on the boat below waving his orange batons.
“My dear, I am quite confident that they are already sick,” Vachlan responded smugly. “The true question is: �
��How long will it take them all to die?’”
Namaka giggled with delight. “So how long then?”
“I haven’t the foggiest,” Vachlan admitted, “but let’s give it some time to settle while we prepare an impressive invasion. We’ll hit them when they’re down—at their lowest low.”
The small plane landed on the aircraft carrier jarringly, and for a moment, Namaka felt like they were going to keep flying directly off the boat. She tightly gripped the armrest as the vehicle came to an abrupt stop, and turned to frown at her companion. “So how will you determine if they’re actually at their lowest low? I know you have lots of spies all over Damahaar, and you know I would have been happy to stay behind and feed you information. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I daresay it’s easier to send information today than it was in 1830. Anyway, isn’t it a bit like the stock market? When you think it’s really, really bad, you never know if it can get even a little bit worse?”
“That’s a valid point, Namaka. Let me rephrase my answer: we will hit them when all reports indicate that the Clan is in crisis; when they are at a critical low, and I have reached a critical level of impatience, we will strike.”
“So the really important factor here isn’t how many thousands of people are succumbing to the various diseases we left giftwrapped for them outside their front doors, but how patient you are?”
“Precisely!” Vachlan said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “See, isn’t it fun to be out here on the field, doing hands-on work instead of being cooped up in the office?”
“It was fun until you made me wear this,” Namaka said, gesturing down at her body in dismay.
“Come on, kid. You said you would help me impress the king of pirates!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Namaka mumbled, lifting herself from the chair. “It’s like this is all just some big game to you, Vachlan.”
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