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Morrette’s mouth opened as if to argue, but I kept on. “Wouldn’t you rather stay and help me shape Respar? You said it yourself, we are an infant country. Julra had been a power unto its own for centuries before we ever built Respar, and Iacknowledge our flaws. Change cannot happen in a day, or a year, or maybe even my lifetime. But…” The emotion clogging my throat was almost too painful to swallow. I hated the tears burning my eyes as Morrette watched me so intently, their face blank and accepting all at once. “You have shown me so much more than I could ever imagine learning as a ruler on my own. You have taught me that strength has nothing to do with gender, race or status, and everything to do with conviction and dedication to a goal. You showed me that being complacent is not the same as being neutral. And I don’t want that for our countries. I want to rebuild what you lost in Julra. I want to rebuild what thislandlost from Julra.

“And gods damn it all, but I fucking love you in whatever form or body you take! Because nothing on the outside matters! You have carried that same soul for decades, and it has never dulled, or wavered, or given an inch of its morals for an easier life.Thatis what I love, andyoucannot invalidate my feelings about it!”

By the end of my rant, my chest was heaving, my lungs struggling to get enough air even as I gulped it down. My hands clenched so tightly at my sides they shook with the force and the nails cut painfully into my palms. I had to clench my jaw to keep from spewing any more of my pride out, although there was hardly any left to spill. This had to be the worst fucking love confession I’ve ever given. To be fair, this was theonlylove confession I've ever given. Tears burned my eyes, and I bit the inside of my cheek until blood flooded it in an effort to keep them from falling.

The silence that followed my passionate monologue was deafening. Crushing. I was about two seconds from turning tail and running. The urge to find a place to dig a hole and hide in to nurse my wounded pride was almost greater than my sense of self-worth when Morrette finally spoke.

“Irin.”

Their voice was soft, but no less demanding than before. They waited for me to finally lift my head. Apparently this wasn’t a conversation I got to look at the drawbridge for.

“You are not in love with me,” Morrette began. My mouth dropped right open in a counterargument, but they raised their hand palm-out to ward it off. “You love theideaof me. You love the potential I represent as a royal and skilled practitioner. The person you knew me as, Haron? She is dead. That person is gone. She never even existed, really.”

My head shook before they even finished talking. “That’s not true. I know my heart, Morrette. Yes, you look and sound differently. But the same soul that I knew as Haron is still in there,” I jabbed my finger in their direction, “and that is what I love! The fact you kept that spirit alive for so long and never gave up or lost sight of your goal,thatis what defines you. Your loyalty to those you care about goes beyond the body you inhabit, Morrette, and I respect the hell out of you for that.

“I understand if you want nothing to do with me, I really do. I failed you when I should have listened and at least investigated more about Gennel when you raised your suspicions. I let my misconceptions color your capabilities as a spellcaster. And I allowed my fear of what could happen blind my ability to make the right choice, to trust your judgement. But…” Morrette may as well wrapped a hand around my throat for how tight it felt now. “I’m willing to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I just… I can’t let you go. Iwon’tlet you go.”

My eyes refused to leave Morrette’s now. Even when my pride was thrown at their feet to stomp on. Even if I stared rejection right in the face. Morrette didn’t think I knew their character, but I did. I knew the bravery and loyalty, the strength and passion that lay in that soul. Man or woman, whoever or whatever Morrette was, I wanted in my life for as long as I could have them. Braced as I was for them to shoot me down, Ialmost fell on my ass regardless when a glorious smile suddenly stretched Morrette’s lips. It was like Wira herself smiled at me—with that long black hair whipping in the salty sea breeze—beautiful and terrifying and rewarding all wrapped together. Their blue eyes softened at the edges, and I think I saw a gentler side of Morrette Hilj. A side that not many others have seen, or are alive to talk about it.

Then, they were moving toward me, their steps slow and measured as if trying to not spook a wild animal. A slim, long-fingered hand reached out and cupped the side of my face with a gentleness I didn’t expect. I knew my cheeks were rough with stubble, unable to shave on my mad dash to Julra, but they didn’t seem to mind as their palm pressed against my jaw.

“Irin,” Morrette began, and already I could hear the rejection in their voice. It was going to be brutally painful this close to them. My eyes shut to brace for the next blow to my heart. “I hear you, and your feelings are valid. But…” That pause threatened to crush my chest with the weight of it. “I hope that we can work together to bring my people home and resurrect Julra. Maybe from there, we can assess together if our feelings are the same. Despite how I appear to you now, I have ninety years of life over yours. Who knows, you may get tired of me and my old ways.”

There it was. That glimmer of sharp humor I thought died with Haron. I snapped my eyes open, looking up just in time to see Morrette’s eyes crinkle at the corners with mirth. Their hand still rested against my cheek, gently brushing the wind-bitten skin with the pad of their thumb.

But they continued. “I have my goals, as you said before. I have only taken the first step to revive my country. But I feel… I feel like I will be sidetracked if I allow myself to be whisked away to be a queen in Respar. All I can offer you is the friendship of one ruler to another, with the hope that one day those feelings willgrow to match yours. You do not deserve the burden of waiting for me to catch up, so I wish you would find someone who—”

“Oh, fuck right off with that!” I stepped back out of Morrette’s grasp. If anyone from my buttoned-up council were here to witness me talking like this to another royal, they would likely faint from shock. “I’m not letting you think you can get off the hook by pushing me into a relationship with someone else! If I’m going to turn around and walk off this drawbridge today, it’s with the promise I’m coming back here someday with a gods-damn ring and wedding parade!

“If that’s not something you can live with, you tell me right now you hate my fucking guts and never wish to see me again. And you better fucking mean it, because I can tell if you lie.”

Our eyes locked, mine prickling with the threat of tears I refused to shed. Morrette seemed to take my measure, waiting to see if I would fold under the weight of my promise. The joke was on them. I wasn't going to let this go even if my life depended on it. They could hold a sword to my throat and I would still give the same answer. So, I was considerably shocked when a laugh burst from them, so much so I startled a bit and almost slipped from Morrette's hand still on my cheek. It was the same hearty laugh they had as Haron, coming from deep in their chest. They threw their head back with the force of it, the untethered sound completely melting me from the inside out, my courage now a puddle at my feet.

“That is an impressive proposal, little princeling.” Morrette pulled their hand back to wipe tears from their eyes with the back of a finger. Little chuckles still shook their chest as they met my stubborn stare with one of fondness. “I look forward to the day you kick down my doors with your ring and wedding party. Until then, Julra will be your ally, should you ever need our support.” Their head turned to the east, the light hitting their collar just right to flash bright silver in the waning light. “I fearthis is only the beginning of what Golath’s remaining royalty has in store for us.”

Their eyes were set on the icy horizon, but mine would not waver from their striking profile. I vow I would do whatever Morrette Hilj asks of me. I only hoped they would ask.

Epilogue

Morrette- 141st year of Ber's Reign, beginning of the Thaw

Iwaited patiently at the drawbridge entrance that had not been raised since Irin returned to Gilamorst over three months ago. Maybe part of me wished for him to climb over the hills again, with the wedding parade he’d threatened to bring and an engagement ring clutched in his fist. We’d continued tosend letters since our parting… he sketched a new design for the ring at the bottom of every single one. He even sent over some clothes in the likeness of what Julran fashion used to be, based on his research. It was a thoughtful gift, one that almost brought tears to my eyes when I pulled a form-fitting tunic from its wrapping paper. It looked just like the one I wore in the portrait that hung in the Necromancy Guild, in the Hilj house colors of deep blue and silver. Our scrying sessions were less sparse than the letters, perhaps once a moon phase, and they had quickly become the most anticipated days in my otherwise busy life.

It was a slow process on his side, reconstructing an entire country’s belief of women being lesser than men. From what Irin told me of his efforts, more of the spellcaster guilds' membership included women in their rosters now, and because of the growing workforce more families were being lifted from poverty and able to support children that would have been sent to the orphanage otherwise. Likewise, more children were also being reclaimed or adopted from said orphanage, now that wealth was more equally distributed between social classes. He had also created a scholarship, named after Trisne Pid, to send young women on the cusp of adulthood for internships in the City of Scholars, to study in the Covenant Library with researchers they are paired with in their fields of interest. It had a twofold purpose, to get women of marriageable age out of Gilamorst to experience more of the world than what was previously offered, and provide them employable experience should they decide to leave the City of Scholars after their appointed year of interning. Truly, it was a revolutionary idea for Respar, one that I was immensely proud of Irin for spearheading.

Fortunately, the search for Julran refugees willing to move back to their motherland was moving much faster than the updating of Resparian social expectations. I was anticipating the first group—two hundred and three at last count during our lastscrying—to arrive within the next couple of days. It had been a slow process rebuilding the surrounding homes, with just me and the undead I raised to enlist some help, but I refused to have the people I was welcoming to Julra have to rebuild it all themselves. In my mind, it was like inviting guests to my home and expecting them to clean their own room and cook their own meals.

Irin calls me stubborn. I asked if he expected any less, to which he just laughed at me.

My hope was to have anyone who claimed Julran lineage, whether they were pure or of mixed blood, to feel comfortable enough to stay in Julra and breathe new life into this frigid land. From the pamphlets I drafted and sent to be mass-produced in Respar, I gave no rose-colored description of possible hardships. Still, the fact that so many still wanted to join me after my warning warmed my heart.

Now, I stood at the entrance to the Clifftombs and waited for a different guest. One that was no less special, but touching in a different way.

She was right on time, the morning sun barely free from the horizon, when her kisteral came into view over a rolling hill. Silver-and-black hair, previously bound in a braid tossed over her shoulder, was very disheveled from the rowdy sea breeze playing with it. She didn’t even seem to acknowledge her wild appearance, her whole face lighting up at seeing me waiting for her at the Clifftombs entrance. The woman barely even let the kisteral stop before jumping off its back. She looked to be at least in her sixties, but acted as spry as a young adult as she openly gawked at me.

“My gods, it’s really you!” She stumbled forward, catching my outstretched hand as more of a brace than a gesture of introduction. A large, bulky leather satchel was slung across her back and threw her off-balance even more. “You look almostexactly as the artists portrayed you in Father’s research. I can't even… Father would have…" Her voice choked off on a tight chuckle, and she hastily wiped her eyes. "How amazing to meet you in person like this!”

A warm smile lit my face. My head bowed as far as the Julran collar would allow, wrapped as it was around my neck and shoulders. The cool press of metal was a comfort to me now, something I didn’t realize I missed until I returned to my original body. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Scholar Janna Henash, correct?”