A corner of his mouth lifted. After a pause, he said, “Before you became queen, yes. Afterward, no. I am not such a fool.” He looked her up and down again. “Are you with child?”
She prayed so. It had been four weeks since her return to Akabe in the DaromKhor Hills, and she had reason to hope. But she wasn’t about to enlighten her father. Not before she told Akabe. “Time will tell, sir.”
“I say you are.” His eyes shone. “To think that one of my daughters will give me such a legacy—I will be the grandfather of a king!”
“What about being the father of a queen? Or of a daughter who has always loved you?”
The question surprised him. “What are you talking about?”
Caitria shook her head, giving up. “Never mind, sir. I pray the Infinite blesses you and Cyril.”
“The Infinite?” His stunned look would have been comical if she weren’t so upset.
Well, what had he expected when he threw her into the arms of the Infinite’s anointed and faithful king? Really! It was enough to make her indulge in a royal tantrum and send him away for such . . . such . . .
Wait.
Now that she thought of it, Father couldn’t leave her presence until she dismissed him. Ha! Oh, she would be sure he understood protocol! She was the queen, and she had a captive audience! Elated by the realization, Caitria tucked her hand into the crook of her father’s arm. “Walk with me, sir, I command you. I have so much to tell you—this could take days.”
Ela settled back against her pillows, as her mother, her former chaperones, Tamri Het and Matron Prill, and Ara Lantec chattered around her. Ignoring them, Ela smiled, lost in adoration of her wide-eyed infant son. Caed. Had any baby boy ever been so handsome? Not likely. With the exception of Kien.
Ara Lantec’s cooing voice broke through Ela’s doting reverie. “Oh, Ela dear, isn’t he perfect?”
“Yes, he looks so much like his father.” Mesmerized, Ela
shifted against her pillows and studied Caed. He stared at her in turn—his tiny face quizzical, as if preparing to question her about
everything
. Dear, beautiful baby boy! She could never tire of gazing at his dark blue eyes—surely they’d turn gray like Kien’s. Would she live long enough to hear Caed talk? To see him play and laugh and learn about the Infinite?
Grief tightened Ela’s throat and tears threatened.
Her mother leaned over them now, smiling. “He looks like you too, Ela. And Jess—look at his curls!” Kalme fluffed Caed’s dark hair, making him blink. Ela blinked as well, fighting back tears.
Finished placing a kettle of soup at the chamber’s hearth, Matron Prill straightened and frowned. “Ela, for mercy’s sake, why are you crying?”
Ela swiped at her tear-streaked face. “I’m remembering Parne’s prophets—‘
A silver-haired prophet has failed.
’ Do you suppose my little boy will remember me?”
“Of course he will! Goodness, Ela, you’re a long way from finishing your work in Aeyrievale and Siphra, let me tell you!”
“Prill, you don’t know for certain.”
Sitting tentatively on the edge of the bed, Kalme soothed, “Ela, stop! Hasn’t my fear taught you anything? You’ll make yourself sick with worry!” She hugged Ela now. “Listen to your mother who loves you. What if the Infinite intends that you never become silver-haired?”
Infinite? Wait . . . don’t answer!
She couldn’t bear to know. Mother was right—she mustn’t make herself sick with worry. Sniffing back the rest of her tears, she kissed Caed’s baby-soft curls and snuggled him close.
Voices and laughter from outside made her look toward the terrace doorway. Kien’s sister, Beka Thel, marched in, holding her nine-month-old daughter, Aliys. Rosy from her walk in the chilly late-winter air, Beka beamed. “Ela, Aeyrievale’s so charming that I could live here forever!”
Kien’s voice taunted from beyond the doorway, “I doubt it—you’d be bored and missing East Guard’s political affairs within
a week.” He strode inside with only a hint of a limp, carrying Ela’s baby brother, Jess, on his shoulders.
Delighted, Jess whooped and tugged at Kien’s hair, making Ela smile. Kalme laughed and hurried to take charge of her son.
Beka scowled at her brother. “You have such an opinion of me! That’s the thanks I receive for championing your adoption petition through the uproar in the Grand Assembly.”
“Children,” Ara stood, scolding tenderly, “Don’t fight—you’re spoiling my visit.”
Beka settled herself primly at the foot of Ela’s bed. “
I
was happy until he said something.”
Kien landed a kiss on his sister’s perfectly arranged hair. “Oh, fine! I apologize if I upset you. Enough pretend sulking.”
“Who’s pretending?”
As Beka unwrapped the pink-cheeked Aliys, Kien took possession of his mother’s vacated spot on the bed. His expression softening, he ran a knuckle lightly along Caed’s round cheek, then leaned over and kissed Ela’s lips—so tenderly that if she’d been standing she would have swooned, she was sure.
Nose to nose with her, his gray eyes shining, Kien whispered, “Thank you, love!”
“You’re welcome,” Ela murmured. “But you should thank the Infinite instead.”
As should she.
“Yes, Prophet, I do—and I always will.” He straightened and grinned, reaching for his son. “Are you finished with him for now? May I take him outside?”
Ara complained, “Kien, darling, it’s cold enough to snow—Caed is not a toy.”
“Yes he is! Besides, Father and Dan sent me to retrieve him. They’ve decided you’ve had Caed long enough, and everyone in the village wants to see him. I’ll bundle him up snugly . . . if someone will show me how.”
While Ara, Tamri, and Prill wrapped Caed in extra robes, a warm little cap, and an Aeyrievale fleece, Kien leaned toward
Ela again. “Next time, I want a Tzana with big brown eyes and a bad temper like her mother’s. She’ll be perfect.”
Tzana. The mention of her departed little sister’s name wrung Ela’s heart. Thankfully, Mother was chasing Jess through the chamber and hadn’t heard. Just hearing Tzana’s name made Kalme sigh and grieve. Before Ela could respond to her husband’s plan for “next time,” Kien was crooning warmly to the unsuspecting Caed, “Come with me, son! The destroyers are waiting to meet you, and we must discuss swords and lessons with Lorteus—you’ll enjoy hating him.”
“Ela.” Prill’s words dripped with disapproval as Kien swept out of the room with Caed. “You have no choice but to live and keep those two out of trouble!”
“I pray you’re right.” Exhausted, Ela closed her eyes. Infinite? Forgive me, but I must ask . . . what will happen?
He answered, not with words, but with an image that took her breath away and made her smile. She entered the vision with joy, approaching His Holy House.
Infinite? Bless You!
A
kabe’s soul lifted in exultation as he guided his chariot along Munra’s crowded, banner-draped main thoroughfare, his people cheering him onward. Five years of unrelenting work had led to this day—this dream come to life.
Trumpets blared, calling worshipers toward the temple for its dedication. All along the way, he prayed under his breath, “Infinite, though nothing built by mortals can contain You, let Your Spirit be present here! Let Siphra’s heart be turned toward You whenever they see this Holy House! Let those who have rebelled against Your way and Your love be moved to repent and call upon You!”
He stepped from his chariot and looked up at the magnificent gold-crowned white marble temple, amazed by the fragrance of incense that swept down to enfold him before he’d even approached the steps. There he paused to greet Siphra’s new high priest, Ishvah Nesac, and the temple’s servants and workers.
The temple’s chief stone mason, Dan Roeh, father of Siphra’s most eminent prophet, beamed at him—the smile of a man who has realized a lifetime dream. Akabe grinned and nodded at Dan in perfect understanding.
Ela Lantec, holding the lively little Tzana in her arms, waited
nearby with Kien—now Siphra’s ambassador to the Tracelands. Before them, Barth stood at attention with remarkable eleven-year-old patience, guarding young Caed Lantec, who wielded his blunted miniature sword, clearly ready to charge at the temple. Adventure-prone as his illustrious parents.
After today’s dedication, Barth would depart with Ela and Kien to train in courtly service to Aeyrievale and Siphra. Akabe saluted the boy, proud of him as any parent.
Barth grinned and bowed, prompting Caed to bow as well—the perfect future royal page.
A gentle, beckoning hand rested on Akabe’s arm, and he turned at once, recognizing that beloved touch. Caitria. She and the children had followed him here in their own chariot. Exquisite in her crown and robes, Caitria smiled up at him, her soft brown eyes sparkling, clearly celebrating this day they’d anticipated for so long. Akabe kissed her, provoking cheers and applause from the crowd.
Caitria offered him a graceful bow, copied by their delicately pretty four-year-old daughter, Deeaynna. Beyond them, Deeaynna’s toddler brother, Aythan—held firmly in the faithful Naynee’s embrace—caught sight of Akabe and yelled, lunging toward him, small arms outstretched.
Unable to resist, Akabe reached for his heir. Aythan hugged Akabe’s neck, then straightened, plugged his thumb into his mouth, and looked around at the crowds. A ripple of excitement and heightened shouts from the opposite side of the plaza announced the appearance of another king. Bel-Tygeon’s glittering entourage now approached, headed by the erstwhile god himself—on foot.
Following Bel-Tygeon, his beautiful queen glowed as she gazed up at the temple—her delight revealed in her smile, which surely dazzled the crowd as much as her gold-and-blue robes.
She is my gift from the Infinite,
Bel-Tygeon had written to Akabe amid their lengthy, increasingly friendly correspondence.
My sign that the curse upon my kingdom has been lifted.
On either side of Belaal’s queen, attendants held her eighteen-month-old twins, a boy and a girl, both with their royal father’s dark eyes and gleaming black hair. It would be a joy to visit with Belaal’s royal family this evening.
First, however, they would approach the Holy House and worship the Infinite together.
Infinite . . . by Your will.
By the noise ringing in his ears, Akabe judged that almost every citizen in Munra was now cheering. Overwhelmed by their fervor, he waved. Then, led by Siphra’s high priest and the Infinite’s preeminent lady-prophet, and accompanied by his family, Akabe of Siphra climbed the steps toward the Infinite’s Holy House, his soul singing for joy, praising his Creator-King.
Smiling in the lamp-lit, nighttime hush, Akabe settled at his desk, smoothed a clean piece of parchment, tapped a plain reed pen in ink, then wrote,
In the first year of his reign, King Akabe of Siphra proclaimed to his people the rebuilding of the Infinite’s temple in Munra. . . .