Page 112 of Healer to the Ash King
And suddenly it clicks together—the story the old woman told us. Crystallized memory. Stabilizing resonance.
The throne in the Justice Building. The King’s official seat on the royal balcony in the Réimse Ríoga. The flooring of the banquet hall and the ballroom. The ring that calmed his mood the moment I put it on him. The rings that helped me subdue and direct my Rotter magic until the King ripped them off me.
All made of petrified wood. Ancient memory, crystallized. Linked, perhaps, to a time when gods walked the mountains.
It’s so ridiculously simple. I squeeze Perish’s arm, and he looks over at me, eyes glowing with sympathetic emotion. Perhaps he thinks I’m wrapped up in the show, reacting to the moment of Khloe’s treachery as it’s being played out before us.
I can hardly wait to tell him my discovery. Perhaps, if the petrified wood works for him, it will work for me as well, and I won’t have to spend every conscious moment reining in my corrosive darkness.
All my life I’ve lived around those beautiful pieces of ancient wood. Perhaps they influenced me more than I knew as I taught myself how to control and use my powers.
When the play is over, the Ash King rises, drawing me to my feet with him. It’s the moment he and I have prepared for and talked about, but I’m still trembling with excitement, joy, and a deep, deep sorrow that my parents will never know of this.
“The Calling of the Favored ends today,” the Ash King says. “I have found the woman who will be my bride. You’ve seen her bravery and compassion during the challenges. You’ve heard the tale today, how she won my heart entirely. To the noble women who invested their time and showed their mettle so beautifully during this competition—you have my utmost respect and my best wishes for your future happiness. I hope you will forgive this concession to true love, and welcome your new intended Queen, the Healer of the Favored, Cailin Roghnaithe of Leanbh, on the slopes of Analoir Doiteain.”
His final words are drowned in a mighty ocean of applause.
The Ash King places a crown of golden interwoven branches on my head, and we kiss to even more thunderous cheers and applause. Then I turn to the people and lift my hands, carefully holding my darker powers in check while I let golden magic flood from my fingers. Ribbons of healing light ripple over the audience, and the King sends out thousands of tiny fiery orbs that dissolve into glimmering sparks. The shower of our joined magic bursts over the people.
It is an exquisite moment.
But my favorite moment comes two weeks later.
40
Perish and I walk to the peak of Analoir Doiteain in the company of my village, my family. Jonald is with us, newly freed from the tumors infesting his body. The bracelets of petrified wood that now adorn my arms enable me to guide my Rotter magic precisely, and I am beginning to use it for good—secretly for now, but one day I will share the truth with our people. I will show them that incredible power need not be feared.
Perish wears glossy cuffs of petrified wood, etched with fire-stags. He has not had an uncontrollable episode of fire magic since he began to wear them, and the difference in him is magnificent. His eyes still change and glow with his emotions, and he is still as powerful as ever—but his resonance is synchronized and stabilized by these fossilized elements, salvaged from the very heart of our land.
Are we descended from gods, he and I? Do the gods still exist, walking on the other side of sight, entering our world just long enough to share their power through a tryst or two? We will never know, nor does it matter, because we have each other.
I have lost my parents, but as I look around at the precious familiar faces from my village, I know that I still have my family. A much larger one now—an entire kingdom, since I will be Queen soon. Not everyone is glad of that, but Perish says I will win over the remaining objectors—and if not, he doesn’t “give a fuck what they think because I’m the damn king, and I’ll marry whoever I want and they’ll like it, or they can move to Cheimhold.”
I think of his words as I lift the urn containing my parents’ ashes, and I look over at him with a small smile. He smiles back with an indulgent shake of his head, and I know he’s thinking that I always smile at the most inappropriate times.
But I’m strangely happy. And this happiness, too, is part of my grief.
Each person from my village walks by and takes a bit of the ash. Perish and I gather the final handfuls, and together we release them into the wind. The hot breath of Analoir Doiteain carries my parents’ ashes upward and away. They will fall upon our fields, and they will be part of this land, of us, forever.
We descend the mountain, soft songs wending along the procession as we walk. Back in the village, a feast is being prepared. But I am not expected to help with the cooking, nor do I want to. The sun is setting over my mountain, over this land of memories, and I would like to make one more memory before the day ends.
Owin is my willing conspirator, distracting the other bodyguards while I pull the Ash King into the space between two houses. It’s the spot from which I peeked at him for the first time on that first day.
I pull off his stiff, heavy coat and unbutton his vest.
“Cailin,” he says apprehensively. “Here? With your people in the village square just a few steps away? Have you lost your mind?”
“Take off your boots and your socks. I command it.”
“You’re not Queen yet,” he grumbles, but he obeys.
I survey him critically. He’s standing before me in black pants and a creamy, blousy silk shirt. “Not enough.” I unbuckle his sword belt and lay Witherbrand on top of a barrel. “Roll up your pants and your shirtsleeves. Untuck the shirt a bit, and loosen the band in your hair. There—now you’re perfect.”
He gives me a haughty smirk. “You’re trying to turn me into a commoner.”
“You’re handsome enough as a king,” I tell him. “But as a feral farm boy—gods. You’re rutting irresistible. If you’d come to me like this that first day, I’d have gotten wet just looking at you. You could have ploughed my field anytime.”
His smile is incandescent, so beautiful I almost can’t breathe.
