by Ella Frank
He looked to be no more than a man in his late twenties, but the four of them upon the balcony, and the hundreds below, knew better.
They were standing before greatness. Before a being who had seen a hundred more years than each of the siblings combined. They were standing before the Hierophant.
Maeve lowered her head as she knew was custom and waited to be addressed. Then she heard her three siblings take their places directly behind her, and the palace became so quiet that she could have sworn no one was inside.
“Maeve, firstborn to Iona, last Empress of Arcania. Please step forward.” The voice that filled the silent space was commanding and hypnotic as he beckoned her to do as he instructed.
She gathered her skirt in her hands and took one step forward, keeping her eyes on her feet as she did so. Once she was in place, she dropped the gown and clasped her hands together in front of herself.
“Tonight, as you reach your twenty-fifth year, you will be crowned the new Empress of Arcania, and your Emperor shall be named.”
Maeve closed her eyes and prayed to the Guardians that she would be happy with whomever was chosen—and that he be pleased with her. But she knew it was for naught, as her fate had already been decided. Once he was named, the connection would already be solidified.
She could hear the hushed whispers from the spectators below who'd come to watch their new Empress be betrothed and their Emperor be named.
“Raise your eyes to me, child.”
Maeve lifted her head and let her eyes finally meet those of the most powerful being in all of Arcania. It was said that he was over one thousand years in age, but no one knew the exact number.
His face was flawless, with porcelain-like skin and pale-blond hair. He had light-blue eyes that seemed to be the oldest thing about him, and when he looked down upon her, Maeve felt her entire body relax as he put it at ease.
“Tonight is the beginning of a new era. The throne is to be taken over once again by a daughter of pure blood, one who will rule the land and all that inhabits it.”
Maeve kept her eyes fixed on the ones regarding her.
“Once the crown is upon your head and your ayon is named, you will be given the amulet, and the keys to the Tower will be passed to you and your siblings. With these, you shall have access to all that is needed to rule Arcania.”
Maeve remained silent as his words penetrated her mind and sank into her subconscious.
“Step forward and kneel in place before me while I seek the oath of witness from your siblings.”
Whispered words were muttered throughout the palace as Maeve took one step up to where he stood and knelt upon the second. As he moved behind her to her siblings, she didn’t dare look at him, the air around her vibrating with his power.
He was handing over the Keys of Knowledge.
Each of them would hold a key to the Tower, but it was only she who would possess the amulet. She waited silently as he spoke first to Seraphine.
“Seraphine…”
When her sister’s name was spoken, the voice that had seemed unshakable only seconds ago took pause. Several seconds passed before he started again.
“Seraphine, second daughter of Iona, last Empress of Arcania. Do you assent to bearing witness for your eldest sister, Maeve?”
“I do,” Sera answered clearly and precisely.
All remained silent as the key was handed over, and she felt the air change in the room as if an icy breeze had somehow shifted inside. She shivered where she was kneeling, and then she heard the shuffling of feet, realizing the Hierophant was moving on to Li’Am.
“Li’Am, only son of Iona, last Empress of Arcania. Do you assent to bearing witness for your eldest sister, Maeve?”
Maeve wished she could turn. She wanted to see the pride she knew would have been on Li’Am’s face as he replied, “I do.”
But this time when the key was handed over, a bright light illuminated the entire palace—as if lightning had struck. Maeve’s breath left her on a gasp as she wondered, Is that normal?
Once the thought had entered her mind, she got an unexpected response.
No, Maeve, ‘tis not quite normal. Your brother… He holds great power. He just does not know it. You’d do best to remember that.
She wanted to look at the man—or being—who was in her head and ask him what he meant. But she knew the protocol. ‘You mustn’t raise your eyes until you are instructed to do so.’
As the sound of his feet moved him down to her final sibling, Rhiannon, she sensed the air warm. It felt calming, and she heard his voice—commanding as ever but with an air of deep affection to it.
“Rhiannon, third daughter of Iona, the last Empress of Arcania. Do you assent to bearing witness for your eldest sister, Maeve?”
Maeve could hear the smile in her youngest sister’s voice as she replied, “I do.”
Once the ritual was complete, Maeve was aware of him coming back toward her. As he brushed by her and his coat touched her gown, the power that hummed off him coursed through her and made her feel…intoxicated.
As he turned and stood in front of her, she found herself fixated on his white pants and wondered when he would allow her to look upon him.
Then he spoke.
“Maeve, look upon me, child.”
She raised her eyes and saw him reach forward with a golden crown.
It was engraved with branches that entwined to represent the trees of their land, and a brilliant stone was set at each of the three pointed peaks, representing their Guardians. A burning amber rock for the sun, a blue moonstone for the moon, and a sparkling diamond for the star.
Maeve had never owned anything so exquisite in her life.
When he lowered his arms, Maeve closed her eyes and bowed her head, knowing that this was it.
As soon as the crown had settled upon her head, she felt her joints lock up, paralyzing her in place, and her entire being heated from the inside out. A warm flush of pleasure spread throughout her body. It radiated from her chest down to her fingertips and toes, and as the heat flared and burned brighter, it seemed to lick back up her veins until she heard, Lach’Lan, whispered throughout her mind.
When the name registered, it was as if her heart had caught fire from the incredible burn inside her chest. Then it was stated aloud for her siblings, the witnesses, to acknowledge.
“Lach’Lan.” The Hierophant’s voice reverberated around the walls of the palace.
The tone, the command, and the power of the word radiated off the man before her but did nothing to ease the incendiary sensation inside her body.
Maeve felt as though she were about to pass out from the pain when, from below the balcony, she heard, “Present am I.”
As soon as the three words were spoken, she wanted to find the man who’d delivered them, but she could not. For even though her temperature was subsiding, her momentary paralysis remained.
“Come, boy. ’Tis time to take your place up here beside your Empress.”
As the final word was spoken, Maeve’s body was once again her own. The burn had simmered to that of a mild fever, and as she turned her head to the stairs behind her, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man climbing them, she spotted Sera.
Her sister’s face had drained of all color, and her mouth was pulled tight in a thin, angry line. Maeve wanted to go to her, ask what was wrong, but suddenly, all of her attention and all of her being felt as though it were being pulled toward the man who had stepped onto the balcony and was making his way toward her.
Her body thrummed with approval as he strode her way. As he stopped beside her and looked down to where she was kneeling, Maeve took a moment to study this man she was now linked to for the rest of her existence. He was tall, at least several inches above her brother, and had dark-brown hair that was longer than most tucked behind his ears. He was wearing the Imperial Guards regalia, and it fit him as if he were born to it, outlining his broad shoulders and strong arms.
That was when M
aeve remembered her conversation with Sera…
“Tell me about him. Who is he?”
“He is one of the Imperial Guards.”
No, Maeve thought as she spun around to look at her sister. It cannot be.
But when her eyes found Sera’s this time, the deep blue she was so familiar with had changed, and in their place were two obsidian orbs.
Maeve could sense the sadness and anger boiling inside her sister as she looked from the back of the man beside her over to her. Maeve shook her head, denying that she knew anything of this. Sera had to know that this was not her doing. No one knew who would be called at the ceremony, but it seemed as if Sera’s reasoning abilities had disappeared along with her control.
Maeve watched in horror as her sister’s body appeared to be racked with some kind of convulsion where she stood, and then she started to flicker before her very eyes.
He was supposed to be mine, Maeve heard inside her head. Then she felt a crippling pain shoot through her skull as her sister fell to her knees.
Leave her be, Seraphine.
The tension in Maeve’s head was eased, and she knew the Hierophant was trying to calm her wayward sister before she got out of control.
You do not want to start this battle.
Maeve felt a hand on her shoulder as Lach’Lan crouched down beside her. She saw Sera’s eyes flick to the hand and then back to her face.
You made me believe that I could have him! she screeched, ignoring the warning the Hierophant had given.
Maeve gripped the side of her head as the sheer volume made her skull feel as if it were splitting in two. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that both Li’Am and Rhiannon were down on their knees, courtesy no doubt of their sister.
Seraphine…
This time, her name was a warning—a threat no one with a healthy dose of fear would ignore. But apparently, even that had left, because it did not stop her.
Why should you get everything, Maeve? While I get nothing?
Maeve fell to her side on the cold, stone floor and brought her knees to her chest. The crown fell from her head and she heard it make a faint clanging sound as Lach’Lan bent down over her and touched the sides of her face.
She didn’t remember anything after that except fading away into darkness.
Wilmington, NC
Present…
It was two o’clock in the afternoon, and the insistent beeping of Naeve’s alarm might as well have been a jackhammer outside her window as she slowly cracked her eyes open.
Oh, God, she thought as she brought a hand to her head and pushed her blond hair away from her face. How much did I drink last night?
She remembered arriving at One Last Shot and Siobhan calling her over to the bar. As usual, she’d been the last of her four sisters to arrive…
“About time,” Siobhan teased, thrusting a shot glass filled with tequila into her hand. “I swear, if we want you anywhere on time, we need to tell you thirty minutes earlier than the rest of us.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before,” she told her, reaching for the slice of lemon Fiona, her other sister, was holding out for her.
“It amazes me that you were the first of us to be born, considering your terrible time-management skills.”
Naeve rolled her eyes and turned her head to Audra. “And do you have anything to add?”
Always the sweetest and most soft-spoken of the four, Audra shook her head and then shocked the shit out of her by raising her glass. “No. I’m just glad you’re here so we can start drinking.”
Before Naeve could say anything, Audra downed the tequila, sucked the lemon, winced, and then slammed the glass on the bar.
Naeve’s eyes widened, and she glanced back to the other two with a look that screamed, What’s up with that?
“Another!” Audra called to the bartender. Once she had the shot glass in hand, she said stoically, “Happy twenty-fifth, sisters,” and proceeded to down that one also…
Naeve reached for her phone, which was still alarming, and hit the snooze button.
Oh, God. Why did I do this to myself?
Tequila had never been her friend, and this morning, it was no different. Her stomach felt queasy, and as she slowly sat up, her room began to spin.
Great. This was just great. Their mother was going to have their hides.
The four of them were supposed to be meeting her tonight for dinner—on their ‘actual’ birthday. And if her sisters were feeling anything like she was, they were going to look a hot mess when they arrived.
Yawning, she stretched and gingerly stood before making her way across to her full-length mirror. Ugh. Not a good look.
She was wearing a large Duke University T-shirt that came to the middle of her thighs, and her hair… Yeah, it looked like a bird had taken up residence.
She reached up to try to wipe away some of the mascara and eyeliner that was smudged under her eyes, resulting in her resembling a raccoon. When it appeared nothing would help, she made her way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
A hot shower and a few more minutes of silence was just what she needed, but as she turned on the faucet, the bathroom door was flung open wide and an annoyed-looking redhead pinned her with a fierce stare.
“Step away from the shower, Naeve.”
Siobhan looked as bad as she felt, if not slightly worse. Her usually straightened hair was taking on some of its natural wave, which Naeve knew she hated.
“No. I was here first.”
Since she and Siobhan had both attended the same university, they’d shared an apartment for the last four years, and they’d kept the arrangement after they’d graduated and gotten jobs. She was a fashion designer at one of the national retail chains, and Siobhan was a physical therapist.
“You know, if it comes down to a fight, I’ll beat your scrawny ass.”
Naeve pushed the curtain back but kept her eyes on her disgruntled sister. “I’m not scrawny.”
Siobhan put her hands on her hips and looked her up and down. “Yes, you are. Now, move. I need it more than you.”
Naeve looked her sister over. She was dressed much like herself, but she was wearing the baggy boy boxer shorts she favored when she went to bed.
“Yeah,” she told her before she stepped into the tub. “You do need it more than I do, but I was here first.” Then she pulled the curtain closed and whipped her wet shirt over her head, throwing it out of the shower where she heard it hit Siobhan.
“Bitch,” she heard her mutter, and then…
Oh no she didn’t.
“Siobhan!” Naeve screeched as she heard the toilet flush, and the water turned icy cold.
“Enjoy your shower, sister,” she singsonged sweetly, laughing as she left the bathroom while Naeve stood there cursing and plotting her revenge.
* * *
Maeve Brannigan stood in her living room and stared at the dining room table.
It was her daughters’ birthdays. Her four beautiful girls were about to reach an age that, where she was from, held the utmost of importance. She took a moment to reflect back on her own twenty-fifth birthday and just how different it had been—but that had been a whole other life ago. One she barely remembered.
Six settings were neatly placed around the table, and as she stared at the head, the seat where Lach’Lan would’ve sat, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her waist, remembering a man she’d been instructed to forget…
Maeve and Lach’Lan rushed through the East hall to the bedchambers, eager to reach her brother, Li’Am. They’d just received word that his wife, Sinead, had gone into labor.
Being seven months into her own pregnancy, Maeve was both excited and sad to think that she would meet her own children soon but Seraphine and Rhiannon would not.
Nothing had been the same since the day of the Ascension, and they had not seen either sister since. Maeve didn’t remember anything beyond blacking out and then waking back at L’Mere with Lach
’Lan by her side.
He’d told her that he had no knowledge of her sisters’ whereabouts, but the ceremony had been complete, and they were now the Empress and Emperor—married. Maeve knew it to be true by the way she felt around him.
Her heart seemed to beat in sync with his, and she was able to understand whatever he was feeling on a level deeper than that of the surface. They were as she had always been told—two halves of a whole. Without one, the other would not last there in Arcania.
“Is it not exciting to think that, soon, there will be young voices filling the castle?” Maeve asked as she took Lach’Lan’s hand.
He beamed down at her. “It’s very exciting. I cannot wait to meet our four.”
Maeve placed a hand over her distended belly. “Yes. We are lucky to be blessed this early.”
Lach’Lan stopped where they were walking and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. “I think that is the point, my ayon.”
Maeve smiled against his grinning mouth and raised a hand to touch his hair. “The point of the oldest ceremony in our land is so you can bed me?”
Lach’Lan brushed his nose to hers, and his green eyes crinkled at the sides. “No, the point is to keep the bloodline young and strong. And since I find that I cannot keep my hands from you, wife, I assume the pairing is also to ensure that we find one another irresistible.”
Maeve laughed and let her head rest against the wall. “Well, I am very pleased with how it turned out.” She paused for a moment, and then a frown crossed her features. “I just wish…”
“I know,” he stated, and Maeve knew that he did.
She wished it hadn’t had to break Sera’s heart in the process…
“Maeve?”
As her name was whispered into the room, she turned and saw Rhiannon standing just inside the door—her other miracle. The day she’d awoken on the bank of a river in Wilmington, her missing sister had been lying beside her, returned to her when she’d least expected it but most needed her.