Page 54 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Larelle

L arelle shuddered as she breathed in the smell of comfort and security.

The breeze from the terrace blew in the familiar scent of water-drowned trees from the warmth at her right while the smell of rosemary salt rose off Zarya’s dark curls as she rested on Larelle’s lap.

She combed her fingers through Zarya’s hair, loosening the spirals as she went.

The rise and fall of her daughter’s chest kept her calm.

Alvan had taken Larelle straight to her chambers without having to ask, and she had not left since, remaining glued to her daughter’s side until the sun began to set.

She memorised the curve of Zarya’s lips, the light flush to her skin, and the few freckles scattered across her nose, which Olden always said his wife had.

Larelle shuddered once more, but this time at the thought of being taken from her daughter again.

Alvan’s gentle hand squeezed her shoulder, and she leaned into it.

The bed dipped as Larelle slowly shifted to make room, careful not to wake Zarya.

It did not take long for her to fall asleep, her mind returning to comfort and safety now her mother had returned.

Larelle had expected tears, hysterics, or hundreds of questions from her daughter, but when Larelle walked through the chamber door to where Zarya sat crossed-legged on the terrace, she had simply run to her quietly and gripped her legs.

She bent down to embrace her daughter, praying this was real and she would not wake up against a wet rock wall to the sound of creatures outside it.

Zarya had pulled back and placed a delicate hand on Larelle’s cheek, rattling the shell bracelets on her wrist. Midnight blue eyes, with intelligence far beyond her years, stared at Larelle beneath a furrowed brow.

“I missed you,” Zarya mumbled. It took everything for Larelle to keep her tears from falling. “But Alvan said he would always find you.” Larelle turned over her daughter’s words.

“She has not slept properly in days, she will not wake now,” Alvan murmured into Larelle’s hair, resting his chin on her head. Guilt washed over Larelle her absence, though it was no fault of her own.

“What did you tell her?” Larelle blinked back tears, and Alvan held her tighter.

“I told her Mumma was away being very brave for the kingdom,” he murmured. “And that she would be back soon.”

“You could not know I would return,” Larelle said, though she was unsure how she would have handled the situation in his shoes. She likely would have done or said anything to placate her daughter.

“Zarya asked if I would find you for her and bring you home early.” Alvan gently stroked Larelle’s arm, hesitant at first. An unspoken closeness lingered between them since she had returned, though she supposed the fear of death would bring two people closer.

“I told her I would always find you,” he said eventually, and Larelle could not help the small smile that graced her lips or the warmth spreading in her chest. Alvan took her right hand while her left stroked Zarya’s hair.

They intertwined their fingers. “What now?” he asked.

Larelle stroked her thumb across his hand in thought. When he found her, she had immediately told him everything but she regretted it when she watched the pain in his expression.

“What was agreed when I was…” Her voice trailed, avoiding a direct reference to her abduction.

“Once all the talismans were found, we agreed to meet in the Neutral City. There was a consensus that so much power should be contained in a neutral place.”

Larelle nodded. “But then what? Does anyone know what we are to do with the pieces?” She tilted her head up at Alvan, noting the light scruff of hair that had grown on his jaw since Garridon. He frowned. “Did no one consider that?”

He glanced at her with a tenderness that made her swallow.

“I suppose we were missing the level-headed one of the group,” he said, smiling.

He moved his hand to play with her hair, reminding Larelle of when Riyas pulled her hair free on the beach on the first day they met.

What would he say if he knew my heart warmed for another?

Larelle shifted and glanced away from Alvan, returning her attention to her daughter.

She pulled her hand from his and awkwardly picked at her fingernails, feigning thoughtfulness.

“Perhaps all the pieces simply being together will be enough to summon the gods?” he asked, and Larelle hummed.

“ It seems a risk, though, to travel that way and combine all the talismans for it simply not to work. Surely, we should plan for that eventuality?”

“Your parents likely spent years trying to decipher the prophecy and did not get as far as you. Who else could possibly provide insight into the workings of the talismans?” Alvan reached for the goblet of wine on the side table and passed it to her. Larelle shifted and took the goblet.

“The Historian?” she asked. “Someone old enough to remember the tales of Ithyion.” Alvan’s eyes widened.

“I have not told you,” he said. “The Historian volunteered to search for other lands to find help for our cause.”

Larelle straightened, and her heart rate spiked.

“But what if he stumbles upon the land those creatures were from? They will surely take him prisoner!” She rose from the bed and began pacing, biting her thumbnail.

The Historian had cared for them all and had done so since they were children, but he was a fool for putting himself in danger at his age.

Though perhaps that was why. With little time left in life, it was likely an honour to serve his kingdom .

“Are we not assuming that the creatures are on Ithyion, given that they forced your families from there in the first place?” he asked, and Larelle shook her head.

“They mentioned other names—places, I presume. It seemed like they were from another land, possibly the lands they originated from before they invaded Ithyion.” Larelle thought aloud.

Alvan placed down his goblet and rose to join her.

She paused as he lightly gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him.

“He has skilled fighters with him; he will be okay,” Alvan said. Larelle bit her thumb and glanced up at him. She quickly withdrew when she noticed his eyes trailing to her mouth. “Let us stay focused. Who else could we speak with if not the Historian?”

Larelle frowned and crossed her arms while Alvan kept his hands on her shoulders, keeping her centred. Where else would possess ancient information? Larelle could not think, picturing Osiris every time she closed her eyes. “ Funny, isn’t it? How people place such weight on religious sayings.”

“The church,” Larelle exclaimed, grasping Alvan’s forearms. “It is likely the only place in Nerida holding any old texts, myths, or fables.”

Alvan’s grin widened as he nodded in agreement. “There are the brains we’ve been lacking.”

Grinning, Alvan pulled Larelle into his chest as she watched Zarya, sound asleep on the bed.

Larelle wrapped her arms around him and turned to look through the doors, where night had settled above her ocean.

She flinched as a bird’s silhouette glided across the moon, reminding her momentarily of the creature and shifting her mood.

Osiris had known the name Zerpane. Had they killed Riyas and his ancestors on Ithyion? Alvan squeezed her tighter.

“Tomorrow, we leave at first light for the church and then head straight for the Neutral City.”

** *

The City of Statues. That’s what Larelle thought Mera should be called as she rode through it with Alvan by her side and guards stationed to the front and rear.

Every water feature, column, and large building had a statue protruding from it, each with an engraving beneath, written in the sandstone.

She did not recall them as a child, likely too focused on watching her father’s feet ahead of her as she did what she was told.

As an adult, Larelle could not decide if the statues were beautiful or gaudy. Opulence always had a fine line.

“Mumma, look at the fishies!” Zarya tapped Larelle’s leg from her spot in front of her mother, sharing the same horse.

Yes, Larelle could have taken a carriage, but as she was to part with Zarya when they journeyed to the Neutral City, she wished to keep her as close as possible in every moment until then.

Larelle’s eyes followed Zarya’s tiny finger to where she pointed at the large fountain in the city square.

They drew to a halt. “Can fish really squirt water from their mouths like that?” Alvan approached and lowered Zarya to the ground, allowing Larelle a moment to take in their surroundings.

Citizens filled the city square; some basked in the sun by the fountain’s edge, while others sought shade on the terraces outside the shops, but all revellers spotted their queen, whispering and pointing at her.

“It would appear those fishies can,” Alvan exclaimed, reaching for Zarya’s hand to prevent her from sprinting across the slippery stone surrounding the fountain.

Larelle swung her leg over the horse, and in a flash, Alvan wrapped one arm around her waist to lift her, the other gripping Zarya’s hand.

Larelle blushed as his hand lingered on her hip.