Avoca nodded once, linking her magic with Cyrene as if there had never been a moment when that wasn’t who they were. Then they were running like the wind. Side by side and straight toward where the Indres were in retreat.
Except that their retreat was stopped by a roar from the Tyghans, who were sprinting up the opposing hill toward the camp. The Indres clashed with the water seekers, who used the immense amount of water all around them to drown the Indres in their path and the incredible steel of the Hohl blades in their hands to tear down their enemies.
And, one after the other, Indres fell.
As their defeat became clear, the Indres loped toward the awaiting safety of the Hidden Forest in the distance. The forest that was on fire. Their destruction was imminent, and then a portal appeared in the middle of the field. Cyrene watched with her jaw dropped as the remaining Indres, maybe twenty at most, vanished into thin air. Ahlvie included.
But despite that, this was a victory. A clear victory even if any loss of life felt like they had lost.
And though the battle was over, the adrenaline of the fight still suffused her. She felt completely full of energy. The pull of her sword, the strength of the diamond, the lull of her magic, and the combined force of her linking with Sarielle and Avoca. She felt…unstoppable.
That was the moment she realized that everyone was staring at her.
Everyone.
The Tyghans, the Network army, the Eleysians who had rushed to help in the fight. Even Avoca.
“What?” Cyrene asked.
Avoca’s eyes were wide. “You’re…you’re glowing.”
Cyrene looked down at her body, and indeed, her skin was glowing. The warm golden tone that Cyrene had seen glow all around Malysa and Benetta when they first entered Emporia. The glow of Doma, true Doma.
Vera stumbled forward out of the chaos of battle. Her hand went to her mouth, and tears came to her eyes. “You did it,” she breathed. “I don’t know how you did it, but you did it.”
Cyrene touched the diamond at her throat. “I did.”
“Where…where was it?”
“Serafina hid it for safekeeping.” Cyrene flicked her wrist and withdrew a small rock out of thin air. A gasp came from all around. “From the in-between.”
“You reclaimed the Domina diamond. You are the Domina now.” She let her voice carry into the crowd. “All hail, Domina Cyrene. The rightful ruler of all Doma.”
Then to Cyrene’s shock, Vera dropped to one knee and bowed her head to Cyrene. She opened her mouth to tell her to stand up. That this was ridiculous. But it got stuck in her throat.
Because Avoca fell to a knee beside her. The warmth of the bond like nothing she had ever felt in her life.
Cyrene found Quidera in the crowd of Tyghans. She nodded at Cyrene once and then went to a knee.
And then they were all bowing.
Knees touching the ground.
Heads bowed.
The whispered awe of, “Domina Cyrene,” filling the space as, one by one, every person in the entire camp bowed to her.
One by one, they swore their allegiance to her.
One by one…they chose her.
21
The Circadian Prophecy
Vera and Avoca rose first, breaking the spell that had entranced everyone. Cyrene immediately went into action. Action she understood. Orders could be observed. But bowing…that was too new for her.
“Quidera, send your water seekers to put out the fire in the forest.”
Quidera bowed deeply. “As you wish, Domina. Also, we have healers among us.”
“Excellent. Send them to help with the injured and then come to my war council.”
“You honor me, Domina,” Quidera said in awe.
Cyrene gave her a reassuring smile and then hustled toward Avoca and Vera, who she prayed to the actual Creator wouldn’t treat her like that. “If either of you start calling me Domina, I’m going to appoint myself new friends.”
Vera laughed, and Avoca just arched an eyebrow in response.
“How do I get rid of this glow thing, Vera?” she demanded.
“Do you really want to?”
“Yes! Everyone is staring.”
“Aren’t you used to it?” Avoca quipped.
“Sure. Courtiers and cute boys,” she said, “but not this.”
“You can dampen it, but I would wait out your war council at the least,” Vera instructed.
She saw the wisdom in that. They were nearly there when Dean, Orden, and Gwynora appeared before her.
Gwynora looked gobsmacked as she dropped to her knee. “You truly are her.”
“Stand up, Gwynora. I can’t have you groveling, too.”
Gwynora slowly rose but with confusion. “You’re the Heir of Light. You’re the one the Circadian Prophecy talked about.” Her eyes flicked to Orden. “I never knew if you were really telling the truth.”
“My apologies, girl,” Orden said roughly to Cyrene. “I said I’d always follow the way of the prophet. I shouldn’t have helped run you out of here.”
Gwynora removed her sword and held it out to Cyrene. “I still think you’re crazy but the best kind of crazy. I refuse my right of ruler.”
“Perhaps we should take this inside,” Dean said with a nod of his head.
Cyrene nodded. “Indeed. I’m waiting for one more. Go in and make your sister grovel. That’d be entertaining.”
Dean snorted. “Yes, Domina.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t make me deduct water rations from you.”
He tipped back his head and laughed. “Do your worst.”
Then he gestured for the rest of the company to enter the war council tent. Cyrene let them talk it out in above-average whisper-shouts while she waited for Quidera. Fenix still wasn’t inside either. She had briefly seen him in the height of the battle. His bulky form moving like the wind. Shockingly agile for one of his size.
But neither Quidera nor Fenix appeared right away. Instead, a shock of red hair appeared. Her smile was one Cyrene had known her entire life. One of kindness, inherent goodness, and sharp intelligence.
“When all seems lost, what was lost can be found. When all bend, you cannot be as you were,” Rhea said.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you still have my Presenting letter memorized,” Cyrene said to her oldest friend.
“Not just the Presenting letter. But the Circadian Prophecy come full circle,” Rhea said with a smile. “You have recovered what was lost, and now, they bend a knee to you, Cyrene.”
“Does this mean that my fated battle with the Heir of Darkness is set?”
Rhea shrugged and accidentally rubbed black powder across her pale, freckled cheek. “I don’t know. But I do know that circles are endless. There are no real endings or beginnings. A snake eating its tail.”
Cyrene contemplated that thought. Perhaps this wasn’t history repeating itself at all. Not really. History was always history. But man can repeat itself. He can always repeat previous mistakes. Especially if history is forgotten, just as it was in Byern for generations. Only a break in the cycle could hope to create an all-new beginning for the same story. She hoped that she was that new link.
She was still ruminating that thought when a messenger appeared at the entrance to the tent. “I have an urgent message for Queen Brigette,” the boy said. His eyes were round with awe at the sight of her glowing. “The siege is failing.”