76
The New Beginning
Cyrene stood before the newly erected gravesite.
Soldiers had been working relentlessly to dig enough graves to bury all the fallen soldiers. Cyrene had spent a few hours with Ahlvie and Dean doing the same. Together, they had laid Orden into his plot late last night. And had a separate one for Rhea even though Cyrene was unsure if they would ever find her body.
Now, she listened to a holy official intone over all the buried dead. Soldiers wept openly for their fallen comrades. Soft sobs were commonplace here. But Cyrene didn’t shed a tear. She didn’t have any more tears for what had happened. Just a general feeling of despair when she thought about all that they had lost to get here.
The court had confiscated the royal treasury, which had thankfully been found within the rubble of the castle. With that, they’d been able to pay soldiers and begin plans to build the academy and a place for the new court. Not to mention, cover the clearing of the capital city and pay for the celebratory party she was hosting that night and all the other expenses that kept adding up.
She’d temporarily put Rita in charge of the treasury. She was better with all the math of it and figuring out how to haggle prices and who to dispense to. Cyrene had to delegate, or she would go mad.
But, as she stood before Orden’s and Rhea’s burial plots, she thought of none of that. None of the preparations that were still underway. Or how she still hadn’t spoken to Elea after the sentencing. Or how, after the party, everyone would be leaving.
Right then, she was lost in the moment.
Lost to her friends.
She never would have made it to where she was without them. Not even close.
And she mourned them. Grieved for their lives cut too short.
Orden, who had always wanted to protect his homeland of Aurum, even while he had been working to help bring magic back. So much work, and he’d never had a drop of magic in him. He’d died to defend it all.
Rhea, who had been the first to discover that Cyrene’s Presenting letter was a prophecy. She’d seen that Cyrene had magic and not balked from it. She’d gone to the ends of the earth to help her. Seen two men she loved die for it. And decided to take her own life to see their dreams realized.
They would go down in history as heroes.
Cyrene would make sure of it.
Too soon, the service ended.
Avoca, Ahlvie, and Dean stayed at her side as the rest of those congregated filed away from the new cemetery. They waited, arm in arm. The last surviving pieces of their once-large unit. And even then…Ahlvie and Avoca would have to return to Eldora. It would just be her and Dean. After all this time on the road, she would finally be in her Byern to try to make things right.
Her heart twanged even though she knew it was the right choice.
Dean pressed a kiss into her hair. “We should go. The party will be starting soon.”
She swallowed and nodded. “You’re right.”
“I’m going to miss them,” Avoca said.
“Me too,” Ahlvie whispered. “Orden was like the father I never had.”
“He always kept us in check,” Cyrene said.
“He always kept you in check,” Avoca said with a raised eyebrow.
And somehow, Cyrene laughed. “He did, didn’t he? Always saw my rash ideas.”
“But he let you do them anyway,” Ahlvie said. “Same for me. I got into a fistfight with the guards once, delivering your message to Edric. Orden just let me do it. But he never got us into trouble.”
“And Rhea was the smartest of us all,” Cyrene whispered.
“I wish I had known her better,” Avoca said. “She would have been another sister, I believe.”
Cyrene nodded. “She would have.”
They all stared at the plots one more time before turning as a unit and walking away. Leaving the dead to their ending so that they could start a new beginning.
Cyrene smoothed down her white Domina dress. It had come out of her pack, wrinkled, but Rita had worked her own kind of magic. Now, it fit her like a glove. It felt like an eternity since Cyrene had had an occasion to wear a pretty dress. But here she was, just a young girl again on the edge of the dance floor with her prince.
“Shall we?” Dean asked as they stepped into the circle of the Laelish Market.
All of the tents had long been put up, and a pole had been erected at the middle. Musicians had come out of the woodwork. Banquet tables were full of decadent foods and pastries and wine. Children had returned from their sheltered houses with flowers in their hair, bobbing through legs and laughing. Cyrene had done the same as a girl.
But the king and queen had never attended such festivities. Too busy, cloistered in their castle.
And, while people gawked at her, especially the diamond at her throat, and whispers of, “Domina,” trailed her, she felt nothing but love and openness from the people. Her people. The Doma of Byern and beyond.
Dean pulled her into the center of the floor. Their feet slid effortlessly across the cobbled stones. It was nice to use her dancing talents for something other than swordplay. And, at the end, everyone applauded.
Soon, she was swept up in admirers. People who wanted to meet the new ruler of their lands. People who wanted to thank her for ending the reign of terror. People who asked her to kill the Reaper, Kael’s new nickname, once and for all. People who swiftly silenced those voices and brought her wine and cakes and chocolates and a flower crown of her own.
It almost felt real finally.
That it was actually over.
And not just a reprieve before more fighting.
“Is it true?” Cal gushed, running up to her.
She jolted out of her thoughts. “Is what true?”
“Are you really going to teach us magic?”
A group of other young magical users clustered around her. She recognized some of them—Jenstad, Alchia, Isabylle, Manasa, and Nandina. There were more that she had only met briefly. Some who she had never seen at all.
Cyrene smiled. “Oh, so you heard?”
“You’re opening an academy!” Cal gushed. “Will I still be able to use my bow and sword?”
“Of course,” Cyrene told her. “I want it to be a welcoming place. And it isn’t just for magical users. It’s for all children who want to learn. I plan to open three wings in Doma Academy—the Vera School of Magic, the Rhea School of Academics, and the Orden Martial School.”
“It’s brilliant,” Jenstad proclaimed.
“Well, all of you are invited. You will be the inaugural class.”
Alchia smiled. The first she’d seen from the young girl since Cambria died. “Come on. Let’s tell Quidera that it’s true.”
The group rushed off as fast as they had come, and in their place were her siblings—Aralyn and Reeve. Elea still hadn’t shown her face.
“You should talk to her,” Aralyn told her, drawing her into a hug.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
Reeve sighed. “She doesn’t, but it’s not your fault. What else were you going to do? If you ask me, you should have sentenced him to death.”
To Cyrene’s surprise, Aralyn was nodding her head. “For what he did, he would have deserved it.”