Rune’s pallor changed drastically, and I instinctively looked round the room for a bucket in case he were to get sick. Instead, he took a step towards me. I froze, unsure of how to react as he closed the space between us, breathing heavily, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“Please do not punish me by getting sick all over my beautiful dress,” I begged, holding out my arms to emphasize how it hugged my hips, “It’s my favorite.” He said nothing, only stared, and I worried someone had tricked him into a trance. Waving my hand in front of his face to garner a reaction, I asked, “Rune? Where’d you go?”

His lips parted, and he shuddered a breath. He bleated, “It wasn’t…you never knew?”

I shook my head and threw all caution to the wind by admitting my deepest desires, “If I had, I would have taken you with me. You were my everything. Leaving you hurt my heart in a way I never thought imaginable, but it was easier than breaking me entirely if I found you didn’t return the sentiment.” His eyes softened as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m so sorry your profession fell on the wrong ears. It makes me want to bring her back to life and kill her all over again knowing she intercepted words meant for me and surely used them to her advantage.”

He huffed a breath, admitting, “You have no idea.” I cocked my head, but he ignored my piqued interest in his choice of words and changed the subject, “Perhaps it’s better for everything to have happened the way it did. Had you not left without me, you never would have had Penelope.” I schooled my face, limiting any reaction, as he continued, “She’s incredible, Bird, truly.” My heart thundered in my chest, a voice whispering in the back of my mind to tell him, especially as he asked, “Does her father…is he…will he um…” He stumbled over his question, so I saved him the awkwardness, committing to the lie, as I placed a hand on his arm and explained, “Her father died before she was born. And he had no idea I was with child.”

Something shifted in his features, an unreadable emotion. It disappeared in a flash as his face returned to the somewhat severe look I grew to love. He placed his other hand over mine, still on his arm and asked, “Do you miss him?” My throat tightened, and my voice was thick with emotion as I answered, “I miss you, Rune. I’ve always missed you. I know I deserve whatever massive change in our relationship has occurred. Too much time passed, we both have lived lives of which neither were a part. I’d be a fool to expect us to slip back into our synchronicity.” My lip trembled as I took into account the very obvious, fearing its truth, “For all I know, you’ve moved on and have a family now.” His face revealed nothing, so I went on, bearing my soul, “But through everything, pretending to lead a normal existence on another planet, fearing every day for my daughter’s safety, destroying my mother, taking the throne, realizing this battle has only begun, having to play the damn game again. Rune,” I squeezed his arm, and his eyes bore into mine, “you have been what I missed most of all.” Expecting no answer to my declaration and taking his extended silence as my leave, I pulled my hand from under his and turned to walk away.

“Ástin mín,” he called out as I reached the door. I froze in place, goosebumps skittering over my skin, hearing our old tongue and his nickname for me spoken. “Ástin mín,” he repeated, but my body refused to turn around. His heavy footsteps sounded behind me, and a warm hand clasped on my shoulder, turning me around to face him. His eyes were full of tears as he clasped his hands on either side of my face, and whispered in our old tongue again, “My love.” I shook with anticipation as he bent down and planted his lips on mine. Wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me, our lips parted and his tongue swept in, deepening the kiss. Whimpering in response to the warmth of him, the connection I missed so terribly, I pressed my body into his and he groaned, his hands roving from my face down my chest and then around to my back. A cry in the distance broke off our kiss immediately, him springing to action and throwing open the door behind us.

“Mommy!” Penelope’s voice cried out from somewhere in the palace, and my tendrils of power shot out from me, readying to take down the unseen threat. Rune and I raced down the hallway towards the grand staircase. Einar appeared, sprinting from the opposite end. He shot us a weird look before we all darted up the stairs and raced toward the bedrooms in the first corridor. “Momma!” she screamed again, and I cursed my ineffective control of inherited powers as my speed increased through the ornate hall with high ceilings and endless doors. Ahead of us, a door flung open with Kiki, pale-faced, meeting our panicked strides. “In here,” she called, pointing to a golden door across from her, etched with the signia of the royal family. My daughter’s scream sounded on the other side, and I blasted it open, charging into my bedroom. Penelope laid out on the golden bed in the middle of the room, the curtains of the bed wide open revealing her little body curled in a ball. I ran to her, jumping up on the mattress, and scooping her into my arms. She screamed again, and I realized her eyes were squeezed shut, her face drawn into terror. Calling on my powers, I placed a hand on her forehead, summoning a wave of calm to cool whatever nightmare trapped her in a state of fear. “Open the windows,” I commanded to whoever listened. Out of the corner of my eye, Rune and Einar jumped into action, each heading to a window on either side of the bed, opening panes of glass. “Come on, baby,” I urged, my tendrils cascading from me to her.

Her body relaxed in my arms, and I loosed a breath as her face settled, though her eyes were still shut. My head jerked up as I searched the room for Kiki. Finding her standing by the door, I asked, “What happened?”

She peaked her head into the hall then shut the door and walked over to join us on the bed. Rune and Einar maintained a position at the windows. “She passed out so quickly, and I went to my room to change. I was going to come back in and stay with her until you came upstairs, but I guess I laid down on my bed and fell asleep too. Birdie, I didn’t even hear her scream until your power summoned me, I swear. I have no idea how I slept so soundly.

“It’s not your fault, Keek,” I tried assuaging her of the guilt written all over her face. Keeping my palm pressed firmly into my daughter’s forehead, I whispered, “What the fuck is going on in this palace?”

Kiki rolled her eyes and guessed, “My mother probably knows.” Refusing to involve Hulda in any more of our day’s activities, I clicked my tongue and directed my next command to Einar, “I want five guards stationed with PJ at all times. No matter who is with her.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Her Highness will be well guarded,” Rune added, “I will see to it personally.” Einar disagreed, “Rune, you’re needed with the Queen. You are our most skilled guard.”

“Exactly,” he raised his voice, “and the most skilled guard stays with Her Highness. Our Queen is very capable of handling herself.” Penelope stirred in my arms, a smile creeping on her face.

“Please keep it down,” I hissed, and they dipped their heads in apologies, “And Rune is right, Einar. Penelope’s powers are new to her. I’ve had plenty of years with mine, even taking into consideration my eight-year break.”

He hissed back, “Not your new powers, Birdie. You have no idea what they even are.”

“I hear you. But this is my daughter. The future ruler of our world. Her protection and safety is our number one priority.”

“How about the current ruler of our world? And the mess our world is in right now? Where on your agenda are those priorities?” He challenged despite a withering stare from both my cousin and Rune.

“Einar, in order to work on righting the wrongs my mother so severely put in place, I need to focus. I cannot focus if I am constantly worried about my daughter. Therefore, the person who I hold in the highest esteem, who protected me, will watch over her. One day, and we all know this, so please don’t pretend to play dumb,” I met all their stares, “when she fulfills the prophecy, I will have left our world a better place for her.”

“What prophecy,” my daughter’s voice squeaked from my arms.

I grimaced, “Nothing, baby, go back to sleep.” She clambored out of my arms, and I hesitated to release her. Moving away from me and Kiki towards the pillows at the top of the bed, “Mommy, please, stop keeping secrets. Please tell me. I’m not a baby.”

“You’re right,” I agreed and scooted closer to her, “My love, this is very hard for me to tell you. But there is a prophecy, written long ago, of every queen’s fate.” Her brows drew together as I explained, “Every queen has a daughter, and every daughter kills her mother, one way or another. Some kill them as they’re born, others retaliate in anger or hate, but it always happens. And when it does, the crown is passed to the daughter, along with the ancient powers of those who created us all.”

She looked around, her mind piecing together the puzzles, and she asked, “Your mother?” I shuddered a sigh and admitted, “I killed her. This is not an excuse, but my mother was not a very nice woman. She did very terrible things. And tried to hurt people in this room. So, we left. But when she found us, I tried keeping you a secret.” Her lips turned down, and I realized my mistake, “Oh, baby, no, not like that. My mother,” I pursed my lips, thinking of a way to appropriately explain this to an eight year old, “she sees people as players in a game, controlling them and moving them to her advantage. So, I knew finding out about you would be an invitation to dominate your life. And I wanted you free. I prepared to return to Clydonia without you, keeping you safe. But–but someone revealed to her your existence, so she threatened all of our lives. Killing her fulfilled the prophecy. One day–one day, it will end the same for me.”

“No,” she shook her head hard, as if erasing the words I spoke, “Mommy, no, it’s not possible.” Opening my mouth to offer some sort of explanation or reassurance for our future, I stopped myself upon seeing the look in her eyes, one of sheer determination and stubbornness, an inherited look from both her father and myself. She moved into my lap, grabbing my face in her little hands, and said, “Mommy, tell me what to do. Tell me how to fight.” My heart swelled with pride, the fierceness and courage of this little girl already outweighing my own. Her influential mood contagious, I heard myself saying, “It won’t be easy, but there may be a way.”