“I can sense your power from here. You are the Eirielle. You are my daughter. Whether you choose to accept this or not, it remains so.”
Taryn moved to look out the windows. The surf glowed white in the moonlight. If only Brandt had told her.
As if reading her thoughts, Lliandra said, “Brandt did as he was told. He raised you without any knowledge of Aelinae or your birthright to protect you. He is your savior, Taryn. He gave up his life to keep you safe. Do not mistake his actions.” Lliandra’s voice was stern, but Taryn heard the love she had for Brandt.
“Faelara.” Taryn turned to look at the empress. “Brandt was her father?”
“She knew the risks involved and wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Taryn’s chest tightened as a wave of emotion swept over her. She wanted to weep, to scream, to rail against Lliandra, to run to her sisters, to see Rhoane. “What do you want from me?”
“Does this mean you accept who you are?”
“I don’t know what to think right now.”
Lliandra put her arms around her, resting her face against Taryn’s cheek. Sudden images flared in her mind: a dark night, Lliandra’s screams of pain, the first baby, born dead. After that, it was a blur of faces and figures rushing around the birthing chamber.
Then there was Brandt, younger and more fit, but the man she knew as her grandfather. He stood with Nadra as Lliandra cried out in joy at the birth of the second child. A bright light shone forth from the infant.
Lliandra’s face crumbled into tears when Nadra took the baby from her mother’s arms, and placed a tiny hand on the pommel of the sword. Songs burst inside Taryn’s mind as if she were there again, touching the sword. Nadra kissed the infant before giving her to Brandt.
He bent low over his empress in farewell and then left the room with the tiny thing in his arms. Rhoane, looking as handsome and young as he did that very evening, followed close behind.
The scene changed, and Taryn saw Valterys stride into the chamber. Upon being presented with his stillborn son, he raged at Lliandra, vowing revenge. The violence he inflicted on her that morning wasn’t physical, but much longer lasting.
Lliandra pulled away. “That was the last time I saw you until the ball at Paderau. You can try to deny this or you can embrace it with all the power you possess. I warn you, denial will not make it so.”
Taryn searched Lliandra’s eyes, seeing in them the heartbreak she suffered when Taryn was taken away. “I’ll bring the sword tomorrow. Is there anything else I need to do?”
Relief spread across Lliandra’s face. “Nothing more than carry yourself with dignity. I will announce to the court that my long lost daughter has returned, and you will be home, finally, as my daughter and a princess.
“Faelara will help you in the morning. Right now, I want to discuss those marks on your hand.” Taryn instinctively hid her hand beneath her gown. “I know they’re there; you cannot hide them from me.” Lliandra studied the runes. “They are incomplete. Tell me, Taryn, do you understand the meaning of these bonds?”
“I know they mean Rhoane and I are connected in some way and that we can read each other’s thoughts, but beyond that I’m not sure.”
A discreet knock at the door interrupted Lliandra’s next words. Both women looked up to see Rhoane enter with the footman. “Ah, Rhoane, exquisite timing. I’m afraid I’ve given our dear Taryn much to think about this evening. Will you see that she gets to her rooms safely?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Taryn touched Lliandra’s arm. “You were going to tell me about these bonds.”
“Rhoane can tell you what you need to know. I’ve burdened you with enough for one evening. Sleep well, my darling daughter. I’ll see that your rooms are moved while we are at the crowning ceremony.”
“Why do you have to move my rooms?”
“Because you will be a princess. Your apartments must reflect this change in status.”
Taryn shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand court politics.”
“I sometimes wish I didn’t understand them so well.” Lliandra turned to Rhoane. “Thank you for taking care of my little girl.” She tapped Taryn’scynfar. “I felt your presence with her, always.”
Taryn wrapped her fingers protectively around the pendant. “What do you mean?”
“Even before the bonding, you and I were connected through yourcynfar. While you were away, I could feel your happiness and your sorrow. I never knew what you were doing, but I knew what you were feeling,” Rhoane explained.
“Don’t you think it’s a little disturbing how all of you could spy on me and I had no idea you even existed?” She walked to the door and turned back to Lliandra. “I’d appreciate it in the future if you’d grant me the courtesy of privacy.”
“You are a princess now. Privacy is a rare commodity for us all.” Lliandra’s voice was soft and full of sorrow.
Instead of going to her rooms, Taryn asked to walk while she processed everything Lliandra had told her. They strolled through the vast gardens, Rhoane keeping the conversation to a minimum, speaking only to point out a certain flower or plant he thought Taryn might like.
They passed fountains and hedges cut in ornamental shapes. Their steps crunched on crushed seashell paths, echoing in the quiet night. Eventually they made their way through a tall maze at the outer edge of the garden, where they stood beside a low wall overlooking the ocean.
A soft breeze cut through the summer heat, and Taryn shivered. Rhoane moved close behind her, skimming his hands down her bare arms, wrapping them around her waist. It would be too easy to give in to the delicious feel of his embrace, to sink back and drown in the familiar scent of him.
Reluctantly, she pulled away to face him. “Rhoane, don’t. You’re promised to another.”
“Taryn,” he whispered, “you are my betrothed.”
The words hung between them, Taryn not trusting herself to speak.
“Does this displease you?”
“It pleases me very much.” If he could feel the rapid pace of her heart or the tightening of her chest, he wouldn’t have had to ask. “I never thought I’d hear those words said to me.”
His lips touched hers, gentle, inquisitive. Sound vanished as her blood pulsed in her ears. Taryn surrendered to the kiss, letting go of the control she’d fought to hold on to for so long.
Thrilling sparks of fire blazed through every nerve, pooling in a knot below her belly button. Lliandra’s words were a distant memory as Taryn sloughed off her disquiet and allowed herself to be in the moment. Rhoane’s kiss deepened, and she opened herself to him.
He pulled back, eyes lidded, and left her breathless, wanting more. “How? I’m not Eleri.”
“You are much more than either Eleri or Aelan.” He traced a finger along her jaw, running his thumb over her lips.
A jag of excitement rippled beneath her skin, alighting her senses.
“When I was born,” Rhoane continued, a shiver echoing in his words, “the Eleri goddess Verdaine prophesied that I would leave my people and live among the Aelans. I would be an exile, asheanna, among the Eleri. I would live as an outcast in both my land and that of the Aelans, never fully accepted by either, but it was also said that one day a child would be born of the Light and Dark. A very special child who would need my help if she were to succeed in her quest to bring balance back to the world.”
“You left your people? That must be awful.”
“It is for a purpose greater than my own.” He smiled, and it melted her insides as surely as a flame to chocolate. “You, Princess Taryn, are the one Verdaine prophesied when I was born.”
“So you believe I’m this anomaly—the Eirielle.”
“I do.”
“You gave up a kingdom for me…” She spoke more to herself than to him, her words trailed away on the breeze.
“What I gained is worth more than all the crowns in the world.”
Everything Lliandra had t
old her, coupled with Rhoane’s revelation, was too much for Taryn to bear. The responsibility settled heavy upon her with crushing permanence. There had been signs—the cavern, Rhoane’s cryptic words about his betrothed, Baehlon’s insistence she learn to master the sword—all of it threatened to drown her.
Tiny lights blinked on the ocean, a ship sailing into Talaith’s harbor most likely, and for one impossible moment Taryn saw herself running from the palace and stowing away. Except, she had never run from a challenge in her life and wasn’t about to start now. She needed time. Time to sort through her feelings for Rhoane. Time to understand what it was Lliandra expected of her. Time to accept her fate.
Of everything she’d been given, time was the only luxury she was denied.
Chapter 25
TARYN stood outside the throne room, wearing the gown Margaret Tan had brought to her that morning. When she moved, the fabric changed color from silver to ice blue to pale pink. Tiny diamonds glittered and winked with each swish of the skirt, sending rainbow prisms dancing along the walls. More exquisite than anything Margaret Tan had made for her, it was fancier by far than any of the gowns she’d seen the princesses wear. A silver robe trimmed in white fur and dotted with more diamonds trailed several feet behind her. Taryn gripped the sword under the robe.
Faelara stood with the others, speaking in muted tones while they waited to be announced. She’d arrived at Taryn’s rooms early to help with the preparations, overseeing everything from how Taryn wore her hair to what she ate for breakfast. Taryn was grateful she’d had the time with her. It had given them an opportunity to talk about Brandt. At Taryn’s attempt to apologize for being insensitive, Faelara waved her off. But Brandt gave up his family for her; her guilt ran deep.
The pounding of the chamberlain’s heavy staff brought Taryn back to the present, making her tremble. In a matter of moments, she would be presented to the Crystal Court. Trumpeted fanfare heralded Lliandra and her daughters into the throne room. An eternity later, when the crowd quieted, the empress spoke eloquently to the gathered nobles, calling the occasion “auspicious” but saying nothing about her missing daughter. She flattered them and joked with Myrddin about the passing of time.
Beads of sweat trickled down Taryn’s back. After yet another eternity, the doors opened. In a booming voice Taryn was certain they heard in Paderau, the chamberlain announced her companions. Sir Baehlon de Monteferron escorted Lady Faelara, followed by Duke Anje and his son, and finally, Prince Rhoane of the Eleri. The chamberlain offered no explanation why they were accorded a special entrance, nor did he announce Taryn. She fidgeted, uncertain if she should follow the group. When she took a step forward, the guard motioned for her to wait. The soothing tune of her sword did little to quell her racing heart or alleviate the feeling of insecurity that paralyzed her.
She clutched the sword with both hands, willing herself to stand tall and have courage. The others made their way to the dais, bowing low to the empress. Lliandra stood before the court, resplendent in a gown of glittering gold, welcoming Taryn’s companions. Myrddin stood to her left, looking regal in a deep blue doublet and black leggings and watching her with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
Lliandra descended the dais to kiss the cheeks of each of Taryn’s friends. When she finished, she motioned for them to join the princesses. She returned to the raised platform and spoke in a soft voice amplified through ShantiMari to the back of the throne room.
“As most of you know, a little more than thirty-five seasons ago I had a son who died in childbirth.”
A murmur of condolences spread through the crowd with several figure eights traced in the air above their heads.
“But only a few knew that I also had a daughter that night.” The crowd quieted. Heads turned toward Taryn, who stood frozen in the doorway, trying to ignore the stares. “Because of certain information I acquired about this child, it was decided that she would be raised innocent of her birthright. My most loyal subject and trusted advisor, the High Priest Brandt Kaj Endion took the child to raise as his own.”
Lliandra’s voice caught, and she put a hand to her lips. “It is with profound sadness we have learned Brandt was tragically killed upon his return to our great kingdom.” Mutters and nervous twittering bubbled from the crowd. “He died protecting someone he loved as much as Aelinae—my daughter.”
A sob rose in Taryn’s throat, and she blinked back tears.
And in that same instant, the sword in her hands vanished.
One second she held the hilt with a death grip, the next it was gone. Not wanting to cause alarm, but panicking all the same, she searched around her as much as she could without actually turning. The guard’s scowl was sharp enough to cut leather.
She took a deep breath, smoothed her gown, and clasped her robe closed just as Lliandra announced, “Lords, ladies, nobles of Aelinae, today we have gathered to bear witness to the return of Princess Taryn Rose.”
Trumpets blared from the gallery, startling Taryn. The guard motioned for her to move forward, but her body wouldn’t obey. It took all her will not to turn and bolt from the palace. Just when she thought she might, she looked straight ahead and met Rhoane’s even gaze. A resignation of sorts rested in his eyes, the cautious look of worry she first saw in the cavern, but beyond his fears, she saw his belief in her. Taking one step at a time, Taryn made her way up the long aisle.
Her empty hands clutched the robe as her mind taunted her.The empress is going to kill you.
Two songs played in her mind—one a festive refrain, the other harmonizing in dulcet tones. Two songs meant the sword was near. That was enough to calm her for the moment.
To her right, Lords Tinsley and Aomori beamed their pleasure and clapped politely as she passed. She smiled at them, grateful for the friendly faces. She glanced to her left and saw Lady Celia’s pale face, looking as frigid as a marble bust, hostility clear in her hazel eyes. Beside her, Lord Herbret stood just as immobile, but his glare looked past Taryn to Marissa.
She pulled her robe tighter, pushed her shoulders back, and walked with her head held high, as Faelara had taught her to do.
When she reached the dais, she stopped before the empress to curtsey low, almost to the ground.
“Arise, daughter of Aelinae.” Lliandra motioned for Taryn to join her on the dais. When she turned around to face the crowd, her stomach pinched at all the faces before her. Some of them were delighted, others confused, and even more bore outright hatred. Her confidence faltered.
Breathe, Taryn. You have every right to be here. Rhoane’s melodic voice soothed her spinning thoughts.
The sword’s gone. It just vanished. She chanced a glance at him and saw in his mossy eyes the reassurance she needed. A wicked half-smile teased her.
It cannot have gone far. Be still. It will return when needed.
“If there is anyone who doubts my claim that this girl, Taryn Rose, is indeed my daughter, let him or her come forward now and state his or her case.”
An excited twittering rustled in the crowd. Taryn held her breath, waiting for an objection that did not come. “Very well, let it be known that all nobles in attendance accept this child as my daughter and one of my legal heirs.”
Nadra drifted slowly to the floor then, her radiance illuminating the throne room. The audience lowered as one, their heads bent in supplication. When they rose, several of the angry members of court looked at Taryn anew, mistrust slipping from their features.
Nadra greeted the crowd with gracious words and a loving glance before turning to Taryn. “It is with a happy heart that I see the two of you reunited. On that day so long ago when our paths separated and the fate of this land hung in the balance, it was most difficult to let you leave our side. But now that you have returned, balance will be restored.”
A crown, the likes of which Taryn had never seen, with radiant tips covered in gems and swags of diamonds, materialized in the air above Taryn’s head.
“Daughter of Light an
d Keeper of the Stars, I bestow upon you this crown, made of moonstone and stardust so that all will know your birthright.”
The crown settled on Taryn’s head, harmonizing perfectly with hercynfar and, thankfully, her sword. Perhaps Rhoane was right. It would return when needed.
“As you have witnessed, Nadra, Great Mother of all Creation, has accepted Taryn as my child. Her gift of this crown is proof that she is the Child of Light. Ohlin has also accepted Taryn as the daughter of Valterys, Overlord of the West and Lord of the Dark.
“When she was but a few moments old, her palm was placed upon the very sword Ohlin crafted for his own daughter, so that when she returned, it would know her and reveal her true identity. We have asked the Lord of the Dark to join us today, but I see he has declined.” Sadness echoed in her words. She whispered for Taryn to produce the sword.
Panic surged through Taryn. “I don’t have it,” she said through a tight smile.
“What?” Lliandra hissed.
“It,” Taryn began, unsure how to explain, “just vanished.”
A storm raged across Lliandra’s features, visible to none but Taryn. The ShantiMari that concealed her age cracked, then smoothed like the surface of a lake. Lliandra opened her mouth to speak and stopped short, her gaze drifting upward to where a sphere of light descended from the glass ceiling.
The gathered nobles rustled anxiously, their apprehension palpable as Taryn stood on the dais. The light elongated, and she struggled to make out the figure manifesting from the brightness.
A man stepped forward and embraced Nadra.
“My dearest Ohlin.” The goddess brushed her lips across the cheek of her eternal mate.
He cupped her face in his hand, a wistful smile on his face. Then he addressed the crowd. “As you know, I prefer to remain neutral in your affairs. But there are times when I feel compelled to intervene.” He took Taryn’s hand in his, pulling her to stand beside him and Lliandra. “This girl before you is as Empress Lliandra says. She was born in this very palace thirty-five seasons ago. She was raised without any knowledge of you,” he swept his gaze over the nobles, “or her role in your future.” Ohlin nudged her, and she swallowed hard, trying to recall the short speech Faelara had written for her.
The Stones of Kaldaar (Song of the Swords Book 1) Page 22