Blinded by the Sun (Erythleh Chronicles Book 4) (28 page)

For the first time, Kavrazel felt a stirring of something more than duty as he spoke the ceremonial verse. He wasn't sure whether he would say that Taan had paid attention to the proceedings, but he experienced a sense of completeness, or rightness, and felt assured that things were as they were meant to be. It had been two moons since he had revealed the full extent of his powers, and had publicly proclaimed his choice of queen; four since he had defeated Illisrya. Kavrazel marvelled at the way a life could change, at the way a country could change, in such a short span of time.

"Blessings to Taan," the congregation intoned.

Kavrazel handed the bowl to Tethva, who, having taken his own sip, passed the bowl to those who had contributed to its contents. Having partaken of their own toast, the newly designated adults returned to the congratulatory embrace of their families, but their happy chatter was soon subdued.

Kavrazel turned and held his hands out to Lyssia, beckoning her to take her rightful place by his side. She took his hands in both of hers, her slender fingers betraying only a slight tremble of nervousness, and joined him on the altar.

Tethva spoke again, but Kavrazel was lost in the emerald depths of Lyssia's eyes, and paid no mind to the verbose prattling. He knew that somewhere in the meandering, ceremonial speech Tethva was speaking words of joining, but Kavrazel needed neither permission nor ceremony to endorse the certainty in his heart. Lyssia appeared to be likewise caught in the spell woven between them, insensible to anything beyond their shared aura. There was no tradition for visible bonds of marriage in Vuthron. The happy couple shared blood before their friends and family, and were bound thereafter. He only released her hand when it came time for them to be the blood toast for each other, a ritual that they would now only share together, between themselves, for always.

Tethva had to pause to allow the crowd to voice their appreciation of the act. It took some time for the cheers to subside enough for him to continue his posturing, more grandiose than before, for the crowing ceremony. One of the lesser priests brought the queen's crown forward. As the king's crown celebrated death, being made of bones, its feminine counterpart celebrated life. The bones of Kavrazel's crown were delicate and seemingly brittle. The queen's crown, although almost as fragile, gave an impression of strength; it was opposite in almost every way. The diadem that Kavrazel lifted from the cushion of gold silk - before Tethva could claim the honour - was formed of black obsidian. A stag's head, no larger than Lyssia's own thumb, was the centrepiece, its antlers stemmed out, elongated and twisted, until they met at the formation of a full circle.

A pensive silence held sway in the temple as Kavrazel placed the crown carefully on Lyssia's bowed head. Even Tethva didn't try to interrupt the moment. The crowd seemed to collectively hold its breath until Lyssia raised her head, her expression one of full happiness. As the final symbolic act of the day was completed, and at the evident pure joy of all those concerned, the congregation erupted. Their celebrations were the signal that those waiting at the foot of the temple had been waiting for. As loud as the cheers within the temple were, it was still possible to hear the noise made by those without.

Kavrazel briefly caught sight of the smiling faces of those that he would seek out: Girogis, Shinu, Multha and others. He returned their cheerful expressions, but only for scant moments. His attention was claimed by his wife, his queen. He caught Lyssia's face between his hands, the better to hold her steady, as he kissed her. As his tongue swept hers, he could feel that the slight tremble from earlier had become a full tremor that racked her body. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her close. He wanted her to feel safe and protected, and if she needed his strength to counter the overwhelming excitement, then she would have it.

Without allowing more than a whisper of space between them, he moved his lips to her ear to murmur words only she would be able to hear, a small moment of private intimacy when all else had been displayed.

"My Queen."

"My Lord."

"Always."

"Forever."

Epilogue

When the lonely dark comes calling

Ever be our guide

When the night looms long 'til morning

Bestow on us your fire

Shine with strength and love and honour

That all around might see

What it is to be a child of Teema

What it is to be loved by thee

When the day is bright and gentle,

When birds ding, rivers run, and crops grow

When all is fruitful and abundant

Let not our pride bring us too low

Shine with strength and love and honour

That all around might see

What it is to be a child of Teema

What it is to be loved by thee

"That's a beautiful song." Kavrazel squeezed Lyssia's shoulder as she finished the last refrain.

The swaddled bundle in her arms, now contentedly full of milk, squirmed for freedom, more so when the blue eyes spotted Papa peering down. She happily handed the wriggling baby to her father. Kavrazel took Nylla with an expression of pure peace that Lyssia had never seen until the day his daughter had been born. He immediately started cooing at the now placid child. Ah, if only all Vuthron knew that now they were ruled by a being that could barely see a hand's span from its own nose.

"You don't mind that she'll know her mother's history?" Lyssia asked, as she adjusted her clothing.

"No." Kavrazel replied, not bothering to look up as he spoke. "Without it she can't know what a strong woman her mother is. Without it she can't know how her mother changed a nation without sword or army."

"It was always your nation. You changed it."

"Not true." It appeared the king had achieved a small miracle and persuaded their lively daughter into an midday nap. Nylla let out a little snorting snore as Kavrazel settled her in her crib. "Monarchs from countries far and wide tried for generations to overrule us, or to invade us and dictate their will upon us. They decried us as barbarians and threatened us with all manner of torments."

Lyssia had risen with the intention of folding some of the newly laundered swaddling cloths, but Kavrazel caught her around the waist, spinning her into a twirling dance step, and kissing her gasp of shock into silence. "Until a green-eyed goddess from the southern deserts found herself here, a debilitated slave, and thus succeeded where generations of kings, queens, and diplomats had failed. I would be honoured for our daughter to know of your history."

"And you'll tell her yours?" Lyssia laid her cheek on Kavrazel's shoulder. She placed her hand over his heart, and as she felt the beat of that steady muscle, wondered if Nylla might sleep for a while longer. Generally, for a child only four moons old, their daughter slept well, but she had already developed a habit of waking up at inopportune moments. "There is much still that I am eager to learn about."

"Of course. I don't want her to repeat my mistakes."

Kavrazel began to walk, moving them both at the same time. Lyssia fell into step, altering her stance so that his arm was around her shoulders, but so that she was still tucked close against him. Evidently, the king's mind had wandered in the same direction as hers. Nylla's little sanctuary was part of their chambers, on the same level as their bed, but it was separated by dense velvet curtains to give both parents and child an illusion of privacy.

"Your triumphs have certainly overwhelmed them."

"If they have, it was only because of your genesis."

Lyssia accepted the compliment. It would have been useless to argue, anyway. She was in no mind at all to begin any sort of discussion, since they had reached their bed. Kavrazel had only to give the lightest of touches at her shoulder, and she willingly fell backwards onto the mattress. Knowing that their precocious child could interrupt at any time, they both began fumbling at their clothing, hastily baring as much flesh as quickly as possible. This coupling would be fast and rough, but Shinu had volunteered to mind Nylla later, her first full night outside her parents' room, so they would be able to linger and drink their fill of each other in the night time hours. Now, having being denied for several days, too long, they were impatient.

She bit Kavrazel's shoulder to stifle her cry as he entered her. She was ready for him, but he was large, and hard, and urgent, and she had missed the bliss of his body within hers. When he was buried so that it felt there was no end between the two of them, he held steady, a pause that made Lyssia want to scream again with her frantic need for friction.

He raised up to look down at her. "I love you." His words soothed the burning ache a little. "You are my guiding star."

"And I love you." She grabbed a handful of his arse, urging him on, and grunted as he thrust again. "You are my anchor and my home."

They gave up speech then, in favour of the language of skin on skin, of gasping breaths and stifled moans. As Kavrazel began to move more urgently, Lyssia gave herself up to the sensation of being filled, of completeness, of being the essential half of another's whole.

She had found everything she had ever wanted in a place it should never have been. After a lifetime of fighting, in the heart of her enemy, she had found peace.

Catherine Johnson

Catherine lives with her husband and two children in the north of England, in the foothills of the Pennines, surrounded by the remnants of the Industrial Revolution, bleak moors and lush river valleys; a vast wealth of inspiration for any daydreamer with an overactive imagination.

Powerless, the first self-published novel by Catherine, was the result of a journey that started in Fan Fiction, and surged through the catalyst that is National Novel Writing Month.

Catherine is privileged to be part of a group of women who, as well as being soul friends, are all inspirational, motivating and supportive writers. They are the Freak Circle Press and you can find more information at their blog:
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