by Alana Serra
The Acolyte beckoned them closer, under an archway that was made of shimmering ice, a small fountain at its center, the still waters reflecting the moon. She and Rheor stood on opposite sides of it, close enough to hold their hands out to one another, but not nearly as close as she wanted. As the Acolyte began, though, she was able to bank the fires that roared inside of her and just focus on the moment.
“By Kiova’s grace, our Drotun, Rheor, son of Vhenor, Kiova’s Chosen, has found his Korun, Imara. Through them, we are granted the strength to carry on, the assurance that the goddess has seen our work on her behalf and has judged us kindly. Their children will bear her mark, the legacy will continue, and we thank our most esteemed Tempest for this gift she has bestowed upon them both.”
It was a gift, though not in the way the Acolyte meant. Not to her. Imara could accept that Kiova had pulled her from the brink of death, but the gift before her—the loving gaze of Rheor—was worth more than the power she now boasted.
“We gather beneath the Glacial Moon to celebrate this union and bless it formally. Upon submerging their joined hands in the waters, beneath the Glacial Moon, Rheor and Imara will be as one in the eyes of Kiova.”
He nodded to the two of them, their hands already joined, hers dwarfed by Rheor’s much larger ones. He started to lower them, but she resisted for a moment.
“Wait. There’s something I want to say first.” Looking up at Rheor, she gathered the words together and spoke from the heart. “I can’t say I believed in any of this when I first met you. Something drew me toward you and I followed that because I… couldn’t imagine continuing my old life. Even if there were people in it I loved,” she said, looking back at her sister, who’d gathered with the others around the fountain. Elora smiled encouragingly at her, and she continued. “I thought when I was married off, it would be to someone my father chose for me. Someone who would take over my life and decide everything about my future. But you’ve shown me this can be a true partnership, and I love you for that.”
Rheor smiled down at her, squeezing her hands gently. She drew in a deep breath, feeling lighter now that the words were out there. But there were a few more she needed to say.
“I didn’t know if I’d be able to do this. I still don’t know if I can do it justice and be a proper Korun. But you make me believe I was born for it, and for that, I will give it everything I have. I promise.”
“You will. You already have,” Rheor said softly, thumbs stroking over her hands. “You have shown a strength and resilience that I admire. It’s what made it so impossible for me to ignore you, though I tried. You convinced me you were capable of accepting all that this entails, and you have proven yourself as Korun already. But you also convinced me that it was worth hoping for more. That I could let myself love you and dream of building a future with you.”
She melted completely at his words and yearned to kiss him, but the fountain was in the way. Biting her lip, Imara said, “All right. We can continue.”
The Acolyte nodded, and at his instruction, they lowered their joined hands into the water. It felt warm against her skin, smooth and silky as it washed over her, filling her whole body with that same warmth. Moonlight glimmered over top of their hands, and as she looked down, fractals of crystalline ice climbed up her forearm, winding in a rope that formed solid, binding her to Rheor.
“Kiova has blessed this union!” the Acolyte announced to a roar of cheers from the crowd.
Imara smiled so brightly her cheeks began to hurt. She held her hands there with Rheor’s until the bindings eventually dissipated, their touch still felt on her skin. They lifted their hands from the water and Rheor came around the fountain, tugging her to him. He claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss that was full of love and passion and all of the things Imara had never dared hope for.
They were hers now. He was hers, and this new life she was building with him would be whatever they shaped it to be. For the first time, she didn’t feel doubt. All she could feel was excitement and certainty for the future, and her place in it as Rheor’s Korun.
Epilogue
The trip back to Brittlewood was a harrowing one. Mainly because Emir was constantly hungry and became a terror when she didn’t feed him the second he wanted.
Breastfeeding had taken some getting used to when she was just sitting in a chair, but doing it on the back of a Machai was another experience entirely, and she had to clench her thighs against the sides of her mount—Skavos, one of the snow white cubs from Tiva’s litter—while she held Emir to her breast.
“Your son is relentless,” she said, wincing when he was a bit too eager to suckle.
“My mother said I was the same way,” Rheor admitted with a chuckle, riding Varuk right beside her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
He always asked, which made it hard to be even slightly annoyed at the situation. In truth, Imara had taken to motherhood better than she thought she might. It helped that Rheor was attentive. He’d rubbed her back and her feet when she was pregnant, made sure she always had everything she craved, no matter the hour. He’d shown her how much he still desired her, practically every night, which had gone a long way toward easing her self-image.
After Emir was born, he’d taken an active interest in helping with everything. She would never have assumed Raknari men were capable of being such good caregivers when so many human men seemed to leave the task to their wives, but he was always eager to do things for her and the baby.
And that included honoring her request to travel back home so she could take care of the lingering winter storms herself.
They weren’t nearly as bad as last year, but the trip down the pass grew more and more treacherous, and they’d been forced to take shelter a few times en route. The winds were calm now, the village in sight, but frost clung to the ground, making it impossible to grow anything but the hardiest crops.
Nerves tangled within her as they approached. What would her parents think of her new family? Of her new powers? Of her? She told herself it didn’t matter. She’d earned her place many times over in the past year, and she didn’t think too fondly on her last interaction with her mother and father. But deep down, it did matter to her. Some part of her had always wanted to know they actually saw what she’d done and how hard she’d worked.
“It will be fine,” Rheor said softly, reaching over to place a reassuring hand on her arm. “If they do not see what you have become, I will make them.”
“You’re not allowed to threaten my parents,” she said with a laugh.
“Very well. Then you can threaten them,” Rheor gave her a toothy grin.
She rolled her eyes, but a smile lingered on her lips. He was distracting her. Setting her at ease. For how cold and distant he’d been at first, he’d warmed considerably since she’d known him, and he melted completely when he was with their son.
And she knew he wouldn’t actually threaten her parents. Not without her permission. A secret smirk flirted with her lips before casting away when she saw the crowd gathered outside the village.
Everyone she knew, everyone she’d grown up with was there, dressed in thick woolen clothing, hides, and cloaks. The council was at the center, with her father and mother there before them. A lump caught in her throat as her mother started to rush toward her. Rheor automatically held out his arms to take their son and Imara handed the baby—now full of milk and in need of a burping—to his father.
She dismounted in one smooth motion, Skavos stopping once she let up on the reins. A few hurried steps and she met her mother’s waiting embrace, smelling the familiar scent of mint and other herbs from her garden. She buried her face against the thick ruff of fur lining her mother’s cloak, surprised at her own tears, but grateful she’d been able to let go of her resentments.
Her mother, of course, could scarcely speak through her sobs. “Imara, I was certain we’d never see you again. I thought this was a cruel joke.”
“I sent word ahead myself, Mother,�
�� Imara said, trying not to let her exasperation show.
She shouldn’t have expected anything different. This was how her mother was. And in a way, that was a strange comfort. At least she knew things hadn’t changed at home.
That fact was reinforced as her father approached, as stoic as ever. “Imara.”
“Father.”
She began to feel that spark of petulant anger well in her, wondering why she’d even wanted to do this. But since the festival, they’d all made an effort to aid the humans living on their lands. As Korun, it was Imara’s duty. And… she’d wanted her parents to meet their grandson. Even if he had ears that were longer than theirs, with rounded points, and the faint trace of runes on his pale skin.
But something surprising did happen. Her father looked to Rheor and gave him a nod like the one he often gave other chieftains. Then his gaze softened as he looked down into Rheor’s arms.
“This is my grandson?” he asked, emotion making his voice strained.
Rheor dismounted carefully, supporting Emir’s head all the while as he brought the baby toward her parents. Imara’s mother immediately pulled away from her to reach out needy hands for the child.
“Oh, he’s so precious! Look at his little ears!” she cooed, taking him into her arms. “My goodness, someone must have just eaten.”
Without asking or being asked, she hoisted Emir against her shoulder and patted his back. Her father looked on, a smile softening his aged features. When he looked back at Imara, there were actual tears in his eyes.
She held her breath as he stepped close, and when he reached for her, she felt like a child again. He pulled her to him, hugged her tight, and Imara sobbed, all of her conflicting emotions releasing at once.
“I’m so sorry, Imara. You’ve done well for yourself, and I’m so proud, but I… I failed you. I failed you both.”
The words were whispered, and only she could hear them, but that was enough. She’d lived so much of her life telling herself she didn’t care what her father or anyone else thought of her, but hearing he was proud of her made something inside of her glow like the brightest ember.
And hearing him apologize? It didn’t erase what he’d done, but it would help them to heal.
“You did,” she said softly, “but you have a chance to do it over again.”
He pulled back, his brows drawn up, tears still shimmering in his eyes. “You would let me know your son?”
“Of course I will.”
A smile spread across his features, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Imara felt unburdened, and when he cleared his throat and laughed, she even found herself able to smile.
“Well then. I was promised a display, so let’s see these powers you’ve acquired.”
Laughing softly, Imara reached back for Rheor’s hand. He accepted gladly, smiling at her with a fondness in her eyes that never ceased to amaze her.
“Shall we?” she asked, nodding up to the grim, gray sky that had no place here.
“As you wish, my Korun.”
She focused on the blessing Kiova had bestowed upon both she and Rheor—the blessing she’d bestowed upon little Emir, as well. Drawing on the bond she shared with the Drotun, working alongside him in the partnership they’d formed, she helped draw in the storm until the skies over her old village were clear, the sun shining brightly above.
Imara looked at Rheor afterward and saw the same thing reflected in his eyes. There was no fatigue any longer. No struggle to carry out Kiova’s will. They were both where they should be, leaning on each other through Transference to become something better than they ever could be apart.
She was happy. Whole. And looking forward to a future filled with many more moments just like this.
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Also by Alana Serra
Fantasy Romance
Sin & Salvation
Sky Lord’s Mate
Sky Lord’s Desire
Sci-fi Romance
Warriors of the Karuvar
Verkiir
Kor’ven
Rhavos