Amora's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

The throne room was empty when Amora entered. Red roses climbed the dark walls of the keep, and the heart-shaped windows let in thin gray light. She had come down from the tower on her own feet, but the wedding still stood. So she waited here for her mother. She meant to ask, plainly, for the marriage to end. Her red boots made no sound on the stone. She folded her hands over the laced hearts stitched on her gown and stood before the throne. Doors opened at the far end. Her mother came first, red skirts sweeping, the golden heart crown high on her curls. Behind her walked Amora's aunt, Mirana, the White Queen, calm in ivory. Amora had learned to trust that calm. Her aunt had freed her from the tower with soft words alone. "You wish to speak," her mother said. Her voice was quieter than before, but the marriage sat between them like a closed gate. Amora opened her mouth. Then a figure slipped past both queens and ran straight at her. A young woman caught Amora in her arms and held tight. Her hair was platinum, almost white, braided loose down her back. Her pale boots skidded on the stone. She smelled of cold air and travel. "Cousin," the young woman said. Tears ran down her face. "I have not seen you since we were about four." Amora went still. Lumi. Mirana's daughter. She had been a small memory, a name her mother never spoke. Now Lumi clung to her as if no years had passed. Amora's arms rose and closed around her. "Lumi," she whispered. Her own eyes stung. For the first time in that cold red room, she was not alone against her mother. Mirana watched them, her hands open at her sides. "I brought her to meet you," she said. "Family should know family." Amora held her cousin a moment longer. Then she stepped back and faced her mother. The fear that had shaken her in the tower was gone. Lumi stood at her shoulder now. "I will not marry the prince," Amora said. Her voice did not break. "You gave me life and I love you but please let me choose my own love." The Queen of Hearts stared at her daughter. Her gloved hands worked at her red skirts. For a long breath she said nothing. "The prince arrives tomorrow," she said at last. "He has already left the east. I cannot turn him at the gate without insult." She lifted her chin. "Meet him. Sit with him one evening. Then, if you still refuse, I will hear you." It was not freedom. But it was a door left open. Amora bowed her head. "One evening," she agreed. Lumi took her hand and squeezed it. Amora squeezed back. Tomorrow the prince would come, and she would have to face him. But she would not face him alone.