Maris Calderon's Arc

Chapter 12 of 14

The town chose Elara now. But Maris still felt a gap between them. She gave her days to the children in the rock hollows and came to their chamber only to sleep. Her mind stayed with other people's young. Maris had won the throne. He had not yet won all of her. He decided to change that. He found her at the wall of hollows near dusk. Two women worked the rows beside her. Elara wiped a bottle clean and set it down. "Two more haven't eaten," she said, not looking up. "They can eat," Maris said. "The women can feed them tonight." He held out his hand. "Come with me." Elara studied him. She looked at the child in the nearest hollow, then at the women. One of them nodded and took the bottle from her. "Go," the woman said. "We have them." Maris led her through the dark halls to their chamber. He had lit it while she worked. The great carved bed stood at its center, its posts crowned in gold, its cover painted with lily pads and still green water. Elara had never once looked at it in daylight. Now she stopped in the doorway and stared. "You sleep here every night," Maris said. "You never see it." "I'm tired when I come," she said. "I know." He stepped closer. "You built something in this town. I watched you do it. But I gave you the pearl because I chose you. Not the crown. You." He took her hand and pressed it flat against his chest, over the scar-marked shoulder, over the place the bond lived. "I want you to choose me back. Not the kingdom. Me." Elara went still. For a long moment she said nothing. Then a warm light gathered between their joined hands. It grew and took shape, a glowing heart of rose and gold, hanging in the water of the chamber. Maris felt it before he saw it fully. The bond in his chest flared bright and did not dim. It burned steady and whole, stronger than it had ever been. "I choose you," Elara said. Plain. No hedging. "I gave the children my days. I never gave you my whole heart. I see that now." She closed her hand around his. "You have it." The glowing heart sank between them and faded into her skin. Maris pulled her close. The gap was gone. He felt it close like a wound sealing. For the first time since the throne, the bond and the woman were one thing, given freely. They did not speak again that night. But near dawn a knock came at the chamber door. A young siren stood there, breathless from a long swim. "A messenger," he said. "From the surface. Your son is coming home. And he is not coming alone." Maris felt Elara's hand tighten in his. Rath was returning. And he was bringing someone.