by The Awethors
* * *
KING EZREK SAT upon his throne, pondering the misery and dullness of life. He held court every day. His doors stayed open, but no one entered. Years had passed since anyone sought his guidance regarding the laws of the kingdom or submitted a petition for his approval and signature. Still, he waited, hoping someone would arrive with news that would stir his soul.
The room dimmed as the hours slogged by. He held out his hands, ready to resort to studying his skin, when a parrot entered the throne room. A teen girl followed, no larger than the bird, and stranger yet, dressed like a pirate.
King Ezrek wondered whether his misery had finally ended. But not because he found the visitors amusing. His face paled. “Am I dead?”
“I should hope not,” said Swig. “We got here as quickly as we could.”
May stepped closer, until she stood at the foot of the throne. “Your highness,” she said. “We’ve come to report an enchantment, one that has been used against you.”
Blood flowed through the king’s heart—warming parts that had given up beating—as May repeated what she’d overheard at the crone’s house, everything except for her given name. After absorbing the tale, King Ezrek closed his eyes and squeezed his forehead.
“Are you the girl that the crone hid in the flour sack?”
May smiled. “Yes! You just need to say my name.”
The king opened his eyes. “I’ve dreamed of meeting my child every day since Isra’s death. But we have a dilemma. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“Allow me to help,” said Swig. He flew to the king and perched himself on his shoulder and then whispered in his ear.
The king’s thin lips stretched into a smile. He knelt before the girl and shook her hand with his forefinger and thumb. “I am honored to meet you…Maya.”
A dome of mist formed around her.
She felt her hand being pulled away until forced to let go. “Father!”
The air grew hot and humid.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her body tingled as the mist spread higher and then wider, blinding her eyes with rainbows and deafening her ears with the dolphins’ song. Moments later, she stepped forward, gasping for air, as the mist evaporated behind her.
Swig and King Ezrek replied with gasps of their own.
She stood before them as Maya. Tall and regal, dressed in ivory silks corded with silver and gold. Her hair lay smooth across her shoulders, rich and chocolatey, the way Queen Isra’s had been.
“Welcome home, princess,” King Ezrek said, wrapping her in a fatherly embrace.
Swig, still perched on the king’s shoulder, leaned forward and did the same.