The Ryn (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  While I was sorry I didn’t come last night, that wasn’t what I was apologizing for. But I didn’t correct her. I was sorry—no, sorrowed—that the blessing she’d given me, while strengthening my own abilities, was draining the very essence of her life a little bit more each day. I turned my head and blinked my tears away.

  “You’re here now. And I want to hear all about it.”

  “I can hardly find the words,” I said. “But . . . the enikkas!” A fresh burst of wonder pressed a laugh up from my heart. “To realize what it means to be known by love itself—er, himself,” I laughed again. Somehow I had lost the ability to finish a sentence.

  Her laugh was like music. It defied the Cobeld curse that normally gave tremble to her voice. She squeezed my hand. “Rynnaia, you may not understand this yet, but your trust in that complete love is a much stronger protection than any secret we could devise to keep you safe. It is a shield that can parry the thrust of many a deadly weapon.”

  I nodded, remembering that just such a defense had been offered to me when the glowing form of Loeftryn de Rynloeft had seared my eyes and burned my fingers.

  “Embral e’ Veria.” She took a breath and closed her eyes. “Your father has always been partial to the foremost name in The Story of The First.”

  I nodded. “It says it all.” I paused. “But without rendering any of the other names insignificant.”

  “Indeed. Limitless power, bathed in a sweet covering of unfailing love,” she said with a serene smile. “It’s a beautiful name. A true name. Let it be your guide as you forge into the unknown.”

  The picture her words painted gave new depth to my understanding of that name, having been bathed in that love, literally, the night before.

  “Let yourself melt into that strength, Rynnaia,” she said. “Trusting in Embral e’ Veria, and in the constancy of the provision of The First, will not remove the danger from your path, but it will make it more easily borne.”

  I nodded. The scrolls promised danger, but The First promised a shield.

  “When you are in doubt, or when fear itself seems as if it will overpower you, concentrate on the many titles of the First King that you have studied these past weeks. You will be reassured by them.”

  When my mother lifted her smile toward the ceiling and whispered the name again, somehow I knew that she was no longer speaking to me, but, rather, on my behalf.

  “Gentle Warrior, My Keeper and Friend,” her tone, as well as the names she chose by which to address The First spoke of reverence, comfort, and trust. “Keep my child within your arms and see her safely through what is to come. You are our Hope and our Light. Help us to depend upon you alone while we await your provision.”

  Her shoulders trembled as she took a breath and my own caught in my throat.

  “May it be so,” I said.

  She squeezed my hand and opened her eyes. “May it be so, indeed.”

  “I will do everything within my power to succeed, Mother.”

  “And when your power is expended?”

  “Then I will call to The First, whose power is . . .” I thought to the list of names and smiled when my mind landed on one entirely appropriate to her question, “inexhaustible.”

  She leaned back into her pillows. Death stalked her every breath, but the colors of her love swept over me with a blinding force that took all other thoughts from my mind. When they faded, I knew our time together had come to an end.

  I leaned in and kissed her forehead.

  “Dream sweetly, now,” I whispered the phrase Lady Whittier said over me when I was a child, “and wake with joy.” My last words were transported more by color than by sound, “I love you, Mother.”

  “My Rynnaia. I love you so very much,” she whispered as sleep claimed her.

  Quietly, I left her chamber, seeking the privacy of the Silence room instead. There, without anyone able to witness my thoughts or my tears, I wept.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  My belongings were packed and sent ahead—in an unmanned boat!—to the ship awaiting us beyond the fog. Mindful that later that day I would arrive in a busy port city that did not yet know the Ryn lived, I dressed in the same simple gray traveling dress in which I’d arrived and coiled my hair in a simple style that could be easily hidden beneath the hood of my cloak.

  “Even in these clothes, you look different than when you came.” Celyse held my cloak and I slipped my arms into it.

  I nodded. “I am the Ryn.”

  She beamed. “That you are. Are you ready to go?”

  I took a breath. “Not quite. Why don’t you go on.” I wanted a few moments alone. “I’ll be right along.”

  With a small bow of her head, Celyse exited.

  I stepped in front of the wardrobe’s mirror.

  Flanked on each side by the inlaid Emblem of the First, my reflection was, at last, accurate to my own eyes. My cheeks were flushed with confidence and my eyes shone with knowledge that went far beyond the comprehension of my mind and into the utter depths of my heart. I stood with my back straight, unashamed of my height or the flame-colored hair I had inherited from the Queen. Even the simplicity of my dress and cloak could not hide my identity now. And the absence of a crown did nothing to disguise the surety written across my face.

  I am Princess Rynnaia E’veri. I am the Ryn.

  I reached above the mirror and ran my hand over the Emblem of the First, remembering the heat that had blistered my fingers within the pages of The Story of the First. The wood was cool to my touch, but my heart was warm with the memory of the tender patience with which Embral e’ Veria, The First, had revealed himself to me.

  You are mine, he had said. I could no longer deny him. And I had no desire to.

  “I am yours,” I whispered.

  I took one last look around the room in which I’d spent most of the last month, and then I swept out the door, through the corridors, and into the entry hall. I was surprised to find it deserted after the flurry of activity that had gone on earlier. Where was everyone?

  I closed my eyes and followed the colors of the Andoven to the front lawn of the castle. With a wave of my hand, an ability that I rarely gave a second thought to now, I opened the tall, arched door and stepped across its threshold only to gasp at the sight before me.

  On the lawn in front of Tirandov Castle were all of the Andoven and their families. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. They covered every inch of grass, gravel, and sand from the bottom of the castle steps nearly to the shore.

  “Well . . . hello,” I said.

  “Tura hathami Ryn Naia!”

  Long live the Reigning Lady. I didn’t even have to think about the translation anymore. My mind was attuned to the Ancient Voice as naturally now as if it were commonly spoken.

  The lone voice was followed by hundreds of echoes and not a few exclamations of, “May it be so!”

  My great-grandfather stepped forward. “The Andoven have provided gifts to speed your journey and contribute to its success.”

  Ryjitha laid a pack at my feet. “The light of Tirandov, Princess. May these tirandite-tipped torches light the dark places you must go.”

  My throat tightened with gratitude as other Andoven stepped forward and presented me with gifts.

  “The Story of The First, translated into the modern voice,” said an older scribe.

  A vial was pressed into my palm. “Sand from the shore where the enikkas visited you.”

  Finally, Celyse stepped forward, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She held up a necklace. The silver-edged pendant was made of the glowing stone of Tirandov, carved into the Emblem of the First. I examined it more closely. At its center, a long-stemmed rose, its thorns still intact, was etched in relief.

  “Your mother commissioned this design, not only to remind you of your own history, but to help you remember how the past has shaped you in order to face the future. Wear it as a token of your mother’s great love for you and of the power you now have access to through The
First.”

  She moved behind me to fasten the chain around my neck. Like the stone in my silver circlet, when the pendant’s gentle heat touched upon my skin, it flared to a warmer, brighter glow before settling back down.

  I was moved by the gifts and by the hearts of the people before me. “Thank you so much,” I said. “For the services you have done for me and for E’veria, I am forever grateful.”

  My traveling companions gathered the gifts as the crowd parted. Julien, Dyfnel, Edru, and I walked down the pathway and stepped into the longboat. As soon as we were all on board and settled, the water pulled at the boat without the need for casting off.

  I turned in my seat and waved at the Andoven until the bright, pinkish fog enveloped us and I could no longer see the people or the Isle of Tirandov.

  Beyond the fog, the Seahorse ship Meredith—and Cazien, of course—awaited us. When we docked I would finally meet my father the King, and soon after begin my quest to fulfill a prophecy spoken hundreds of years before I took my first breath.

  “Dyfnel!” A thought startled me from my musings. “You do have the scrolls, don’t you?”

  Sitting at the head of the boat, the Andoven man turned, patting the pouch slung across his body. “Yes,” he said with a wink. “I have the scrolls. And translations of the scrolls. And copies of the translations of the scrolls.”

  “I have copies as well, Your Highness,” Edru added.

  “Oh.” I blushed. “That’s . . . good. We’re going to need those.”

  “And it’s about time, I say!” Julien laughed, but his eyes turned suddenly serious as he reached for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready, Rynnaia?”

  “Yes, I believe I am.” I breathed deeply of the warm southern sea air. “With all that I am and for all of my life, whatever may come of it, I am ready.”

  THE END

  About the Author

  Serena Chase contributes book reviews, author interviews, and features for USA Today’s Happy Ever After blog as well as for Edgy Inspirational Romance. A life-long lover of fairytales who admits to being mildly obsessed with pirates, Serena lives in Iowa with her husband, two daughters, and a white Goldendoodle named Albus. The Ryn is her first novel.

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks are necessary to those who have helped me carve this road to publication, but I’ll start with my husband. Cuz who wants to mess that up, really? So to Dave, who wears the knight’s beard with pride: I’m sure that over the past eighteen years of marriage (especially the seven spent refining this book!) you’ve had moments in which you’ve thought, “Whoever wrote this episode should die!” (Yep. Galaxy Quest reference.)Thanks for supporting me in chasing after my dreams, for watching the show, and keeping me sane (or at least as close to it as possible) through it all.

  To my beautiful girls, Delaney & Ellerie: thank you for listening to me talk about imaginary people for years on end, for being excited when all of this finally started coming together, and for being the brightest, loveliest stars in my universe. I love you.

  A special sort of thanks goes to those brave few who, years ago, read the exhausting and poorly crafted first draft of this novel: Connie Hutchcroft, Delaney Van Ness, Donna Perdelwitz, Manon Bushman, Jessica Hellberg, author Nicole Johnson (really embarrassed about that one. Believe me: it’s better now!) and author/adventurer Michael Tison. Thank you. And to my brother Tod, whose engineering expertise made Ayden’s plumbing actually work, my thanks.

  To Heather Perdelwitz: from the first draft of the first chapter until now, you have read countless versions of this story, talked me down from ledges, and witnessed my various neuroses concerning character, plot, setting, sentence structure, etc… and you are still my friend. Thanks are not enough, which is why your name is included in the dedication.

  To my Strive Wednesday Small Group: Ali, Allison, Jordyn, Kara, Marissa, Morrgan, & Sam and to the MHS Color Guard girls: I love you guys and pray this story speaks a fresh sort of beauty into your already-beautiful hearts. Thanks for being awesome! And Rachel, I promise to get THE REMEDY out soon!

  This book would not be in your hands, nor would its path to your heart be as clear, without the help of the editors and coaches who found the holes in the story and held my hand while I filled them. My heartfelt gratitude goes to Sandra Byrd (www.sandrabyrd.com) who has been not only an editor and coach on this project and others, but also my mentor, encourager, and friend. Thank you, Sandra. Also, editor Jenny Quinlan of Historical Editorial historicaleditorial.blogspot.com : your eye for clarity and story added a grace to this book that I could not have achieved on my own. You are a valuable asset to have on my team! Thank you so much! And to author Tamara Leigh: thanks for that extra bit of spit and polish. It really helped to bring the shine. I am honored.

  To Joy Tamsin David who invited me into her adventure at Edgy Inspirational Romance www.edgyinspirationalromance.com : Joy, you have played such a big role in my career and you appreciate my sarcasm as only a true friend could. Thanks! And to Joyce Lamb, curator of USA Today’s Happy Ever After blog: thanks for building a tall platform and then offering a hand to help me climb up it. You rock.

  To the book blogging community who embraced me when I first joined Joy at Edgy Inspirational Romance and who are now helping to bring my stories to the world, I am so grateful. *wipes eyes* An extra tight hug goes out to Rel, Christy, Amber, and Juju. To the authors who allow me to peek into your stories and your lives for my work at HEA and EIR, thank you.

  For my beautiful book cover I must thank the team that made it happen:

  For the character images, my deep thanks to photographer Lincoln Noah Baxter and model Megan Wilson. Also: Donna Perdelwitz (for making Rose/Rynnaia’s lovely blue cloak) and photo session helpers: Sue Wilson, Delaney, Ellerie, & Dave -- & Jerry Woods, who happened to be there and knew how to turn on the lights.

  For photo editing, scenery images, and design: a huge hug, some chocolate, and a ginormous thank you goes to graphic designer Jodie Gerling of JG Designs, who combined Lincoln’s photos with her ability to translate the crazy in my head, and was willing to Skype for 4-hour-long tweaking sessions to produce a book cover (or 12) that rock my world. GO TEAM SEAHORSE!

  To my Mom & Dad who kept that pink book of Grimm Fairytales within easy reach and didn’t scoff (well, not too much) when I climbed into the old wardrobe time and again, hoping to find a lamp post: thanks for your love, your patience… and for setting the stage on which I fell in love with fairytales.

  And finally, Dear Reader, I thank you for taking the time to read this novel. I pray your heart would glimpse, find, and hold on to the love that woos you even now.

  I would love to hear from you! Please drop by my FB page www.facebook.com/serena.chase.author , say hello on Twitter @Serena_Chase, or visit my website www.serenachase.com to find out what is coming next in the Eyes of E’veria series! You can also find me on Pinterest where I have a board dedicated to the Eyes of E’veria series!

  EYES OF E’VERIA, BOOK 2: THE REMEDY will be available April 2013.