Page 150 of Reign of Stars and Fire

I took in the trees around the shore. Thick and lush with hanging moss over branches like tattered towels. Roots of this land had coiled around my bleeding ankles, and kept me here for long stretches over the turns. I’d learned of seidr. There were moments I almost recalled a distant past that still made little sense.

They both—my golden king and raven queen—had rummaged with me through the songs of the fate king.

Of Riot Ode. My father.

No less than half a dozen times I’d demanded we use the Falkyn’s tricky potions to test the blood. Niklas seemed to revel in the mystery of it all and always obliged. Every time, my blood had traces of the Raven Queen’s.

We were blood folk.

There were still questions to which I had no answer. How did I have memories of Stefan—Annon—as a boy? Hells, how had I been a tiny little when the world broke apart, yet my face looked less aged than the thieving prince?

I rarely spoke on it, the fear that came from the unknown. Memories I’d believed, memories I’d shared with Sol when we were caged creatures together, they no longer existed.

Over the turns I’d gone to the different kingdoms, learned the histories, studied the mesmer, the fury. I even sat in the cells at Castle Ravenspire with Sol at my side, reliving moments, all to retrace those enslaved footsteps for answers. Lump replayed our positions (from what he could remember) and tried to help me wade through tales I’d shared of my folk in the Row.

Had I imagined it all merely to stay alive? It was what my kind heart queen theorized. We did strange things to stay alive. Could’ve been my head trying to give me something to live for.

Still didn’t explain how I ought to be all wise and old but . . . wasn’t.

Now the dreams were getting worse. No doubt the dreams were behind all the strife in my gut and all the prickles on my skin. Still, I hadn’t told anyone else there was more to this sudden need to return to the West, other than it was once more time for a visit.

I closed my eyes and drew in a long breath through my nose. The last turns weren’t all worry and work. I’d been thrust into a world of dark warriors and kings and queens who battled for their love—nothing less. They were my home when I thought after losing my brother, I would never find one again.

A few giggles trickled down the slope near the docks.

The corners of my mouth tugged into a grin. Littles seemed to be everywhere now. I peeked over my shoulder, the sun shielded from the wide brim of my hat. Future royals wrestled and played. Sol’s and Tor’s boy—Alek—he was the eldest. A boy born of these isles much like me. When I visited Lump and Tor, I often told them they were dull, then spent the rest of my time chasing Aleksi and watching his eyes light up when I gave him little prophecies of his fated path.

Once, I was forced to draw out the simple prophecies as a captive at Ravenspire. Now, I’d do it all day for the young royals if they kept looking at me like I was some kind of bleeding goddess.

Never thought I’d take to littles. I was too worried about keeping chains off my neck and keeping alive. Young ones weren’t a thought.

But I loved them all.

From Elise’s and Valen’s girl who seemed to radiate the two opposing worlds they’d united, to the two matching littles from the shadow court in the East. Hells, the twins would be sneakier than their damn parents.

All at once, skinny arms flung around my waist. I grunted and looked down at two mossy eyes. Bright and glassy with a bit of gold, a bit of soil, with traces of the forest green sprinkled about.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Saga had battled Davorin with a small one inside. I thought Ari would always boast about his prowess as a man for finding fatherhood so swiftly, but I think his daughter’s birth added a new kind of darkness to the king.

More walls, more guards, more sounds of his footsteps pacing the corridors during the night, waiting for an attack he knew as well as I would come someday. Worries he kept to the dark where no one but those closest to him could see.

In the daylight, his girl only believed she was the sun of her father’s world. She was, but I was simply of the belief she’d also snapped a new level of violence in his soul. He would not only fight for his wife, now he would slaughter for his child.

“Mira,” I whispered. I tapped her nose. She was named Krasmira, after, well, after my grandmother I supposed. But no one called her the full title. I took in the whole of her sweet countenance. The points of her fae ears, the curls of dark hair loose around her cheeks, her tiny raven toy whittled for her by Lord Gorm at her birth. “I shall miss you most. Don’t tell Jonas and Sander.”

She snickered. “Or they’ll try to put a toad in your bed again.”

“They keep trying to trick a fate worker, and they’ll keep being disappointed.”

I squeezed her close. Part of me didn’t want to go. Part of me wished to pretend nothing had happened, that I wasn’t keeping a secret I didn’t understand.

“You don’t really need to be doing any missing at all.” Ari stood ten paces behind me, head cocked, that arrogant smirk I thought was his best quality written on his face.

I covered Mira’s ears and whispered, “I must go. I don’t like you anymore.”

Ari chuckled. He came to stand beside me after pressing a kiss to his daughter’s head. Together, we kept watch as Cuyler and several of his watchers loaded the longship.

After a drawn pause the king asked, “Keeping anything in?”