Wings of Lomay (40 page)
Kiora,
More than anything in this world, I wish you to be happy—that is my greatest desire. I had hoped at one time that your happiness would be within my power to offer you. It has become apparent that this is not the case. And although I know I am no longer here to ask for promises, I am asking you to make a promise to my memory.
If you have ever cared for me at all, be happy. I want you to marry, have children, and enjoy your magic and your life. And most importantly, I want you to forget all the pain and the grief that has followed you from the very first time I met you. This is not your fault.
I love you. If there is anything after this life, I will be watching over you—always.
Kiora’s hand went limp. The paper fluttered to the floor.
Alcander looked at her, eyebrows raised. Kiora motioned for him to read the letter. When he finished, he laid the note on the table. “Well?”
“Well, what?” she said thickly.
“Will you promise him?”
“It’s . . .” She felt like she was drowning beneath a sea of emotions. “It’s so soon.”
“I think Emane knew that when he wrote you the note, Kiora.” It could have sounded harsh, but Alcander’s tone was gentle—understanding.
Kiora opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
He pulled up a chair next to her, taking her hand. “He’s right. You deserve to be happy, and you must let go of the guilt. It is destroying you.”
When she didn’t respond, he waved the tapestry back into place, covering the scene. Alcander leaned over and kissed Kiora’s forehead, then walked out the room.
Kiora sat there in the place where everything changed. This was where she had told Emane that she was choosing Alcander, where Emane had finally learned his true purpose in being chosen as the Protector, and where he had seen . . . this. Could she promise his memory?
She stood abruptly, unable to stay in the chair a second more, and walked around the room, looking at Lomay’s visions. She stopped in front of the painting of her and Alcander and smiled. Lomay hadn’t gotten it quite right. Her hair was a different color now.
***
KIORA WALKED OUT TOWARD the edge of the cliff where Alcander stood looking out at the ocean—it was a place she frequently found him. Some of her most profound memories of Alcander happened in the very spot he was standing now—although it had been warmer then, and the ground had been covered with grass instead of snow. The snow was deep and she stepped in his footprints.
“I wonder if we could break the enchantment on the house now that it isn’t needed anymore,” Kiora said.
“I don’t think I would want to even if I could,” Alcander said. “It reminds me so much of Lomay.”
The waves crashed on the cliffs below them and Kiora hugged herself, shivering in the freezing mist. “I know Emane’s right,” she said abruptly. “In my head, I understand it. But . . . I don’t know how to make my heart stop hurting.”
“I could help you with your heart if you would let me.”
She looked away.
Alcander took a deep breath in, releasing it slowly. “You feel like allowing yourself to be happy with me is an insult to his memory.” He glanced over at her, sympathy in his eyes.
Kiora’s throat tightened as she nodded. “Yes.”
Alcander pulled her into him, running his hands over her hair. “Emane wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. You just need to decide what is going to make you happy.”
She closed her eyes. “You,” she whispered against his shoulder. “You make me happy.”
He squeezed her tightly. “And you make me happy,” he whispered in her ear. “There is only one thing that would make me happier.”
Kiora stepped back, looking into his eyes.
He tilted his head to the side and ran his fingers through her hair, letting it fall over her shoulder. “You are so beautiful.”
Kiora smiled softly.
“You didn’t ask me what it was that would make me happier,” he said, cupping her cheek.
She swallowed and put his hand over his, shyly meeting his gaze. “What would make you happier, Alcander?”
He kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and then her lips—slowly, thoroughly, before resting his head against hers. “If you would be my wife.”
She knew it was coming, and yet those words made her tremble from head to toe. Had he asked her yesterday, she didn’t know what she would have said. But now, with Emane’s words still fresh in her mind, she saw a picture of possible happiness. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could call to Emane beyond the grave.
I promise, Emane,
she thought.
I will find happiness.
She looked deep into Alcander’s eyes, relishing the clear and open gaze with the slightest hint of insecurity. “Yes.”
Alcander broke into a slow, wide smile. He held his hand flat and summoned a ring. It was the same one he had shown her in the library. It had been his mother’s and his grandmother’s, passed down through the queens of Tavea. Queen. She was going to be queen.
He took her finger and slid the ring on. It fit perfectly. Alcander brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I have already decided on my wedding gift for you.”
Kiora burst out with a laugh. “What? You just asked me, and we’re already talking about gifts?”
“I discussed it with Drustan,” he said, a glimmer in his eyes, “And I think you will like it.”
“You discussed our wedding present with Drustan before you even asked me to marry you?” she said, putting one hand on her hip.
“Prepared, my love. I am nothing but prepared.”
She laughed, kissing him. “Are you sure you’re prepared for me? I am going to be a challenge.”
“The challenge is why I love you.” He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Shall we go home?”
“Home.” The word rolled off her tongue in the most delightful way, and she never wanted to let it go.
EPILOGUE
KIORA STOOD IN THE center of the castle gardens of Tavea. The weather was perfect and her favorite climbing vines were in full bloom, draping along the balconies on the back of the castle. Kiora spent much of her spare time out in the gardens, tending to the flowers, and keeping a promise.
They had rebuilt the castle with its original design, and she never tired of its beauty. The inside had been restored down to the glass chandeliers. Only the throne room varied. The vines that had lined the walls were now gone, and behind the throne stood Kiora’s wedding present to her husband. It had taken some effort to excavate the Wings of Tavea from the ruins of the old canyon, but she had done it. And with Alcander’s permission, they had renamed them the Wings of Lomay—in memory of the one who had been like a father to him and who had sacrificed his life to the cause.
She looked up at Alcander’s wedding present to her, as she did at least once a week. Alcander had commissioned Drustan to build a statue of Emane. The stone likeness stood with his arms out, the sword given him by the Guardians laid across them and holding a large glass box. Within the box rested the Light they had recovered from the waters beneath the island, and at the bottom was an inscription that read,
Prince
Emane of Meros. A Human. A Witow. A Protector. He taught us that to be without magic is not to be without worth. He taught us that true strength lies within. We are forever in his debt.
Kiora sat on the bench in front of the statue, smoothing out her dress. “I had a nightmare last night,” she began, looking up at the statue. “But it was the first one in months. It wasn’t as painful as I remember them being—maybe that’s good. Drustan and Nara have sent word from Meros that your father’s new wife is expecting. Meros will have an heir.” She tangled her hands in the fabric of her dress. “We can only hope he is half as suited to the job as you were.”
A pounding of feet interrupted her as three Tavean children tore past her. The eldest tripped on a twining ivy bush and crashed forward, crushing flowering plants in his wake. His siblings stopped, laughing and pointing.
Kiora huffed and walked over, helping to disentangle the child. “Emane,” she scolded. “How many times must I tell you not to run through the gardens?”
“But Mother, there is nowhere else to run!”
Kiora stood up straight, looking down at the white-haired, blue-eyed boy, the exact likeness of his father. “You mean besides the miles of hills that surround us?”
He crossed his arms and looked away as he muttered. “Nowhere
fun
to run.”
Alcander came up behind Kiora, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Emane, listen to your mother.”
Emane rolled his eyes, tossing his hair back off his forehead with a flip of his head as he leaned against one of the waist-high stone walls that surrounded the statue, kicking one leg out and crossing it over the other. Although he looked nothing like Emane of Meros, it never failed to amaze her how many times her son reminded her of him
“Emane,” Alcander warned again.
Their son and his two sisters trudged back toward the edge of the garden and headed to the hills.
“He is so much like him,” Kiora said, leaning back against Alcander’s chest.
“I know. It’s as if he is haunting me from beyond the grave.”
Kiora laughed and squeezed his arms. “You loved him too.”
“I did,” Alcander said. “He snuck up on me. Just like you.” He gave her a kiss. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Hmmm?”
“There is a Domat waiting for you in the throne room.”
She whirled around. “Did he . . .?”
Alcander nodded. “I don’t know how he did it—the Light’s signature should have faded long ago, but he has the last one.”
Kiora picked up her skirts and raced toward the castle. The crown on her head slid to the side and she straightened it absently as she walked through the halls on her way to the throne room, Alcander right behind her. She pushed open the double doors to find the Domat she had sent standing in the middle of the room, a brilliant Light in his arms. He turned to her, his black ears perked up, and his eyes glittered with pride.
“Solus, my queen.” He dropped to one knee and held up the Light.
Kiora took it, running her hand over the surface. “We did it, Emane.” She closed her eyes and squeezed the Light against her. “We did it.”
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEVRI WALLS lives in Kuna, Idaho, with her husband, two kids, and one very bouncy Lab. After suffering from an abundance of creativity with not enough places to put it, she turned to writing—which, in the end, turned out to be exactly where she should have been putting it all along.
Devri Walls © copyright 2014
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
StoneHouse Ink 2014
Boise ID 83713
First eBook Edition: 2014
First Paperback Edition: 2014
Cover design by Phatpuppy Art
This book was professionally edited by Tristi Pinkston
www.tristipinkstonediting.blogspot.com
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published in the United States of America
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 3: Sacrifices Must be Made
CHAPTER 4: Recruiting Shifters
CHAPTER 12: Motivations Revealed