“I’m not—”
“Tallora,” she gently chided, and her smile held the weight of all the months Tallora had been missing. “Tallora, my little guppy, you put on a brave face. But yesterday told me this is still eating at you.”
Today, she had awoken with a weight on her chest, and she knew not if it was the nightmare of the ambassador’s hands on her body or the memory of Dauriel’s embrace protecting her. The touch grew fainter every night. “I’m trying to move past it.”
“I’ve told you time and time again—the temple is filled with priestesses trained to help ease emotional burdens.”
Tallora shook her head. “It’s not what I need.” Perhaps it was, but if she couldn’t say the whole truth, what use was there?
“When is the last time you prayed?” her mother asked. “Sincerely prayed? Staella is a Goddess of Comfort.”
A few scattered times, though she didn’t say those words aloud. Never at the temple—it bore the reminders of her discarded dreams of joining the priestesses there. But beneath the starry sky, she had prayed a few times at the surface, finally grasping at peace . . . until, one night, a ship had sailed across the horizon, bombarding Tallora with memories both cherished and feared.
Beneath the waves, she’d disappeared, and since then had kept her silence. Here in her mother’s shop, she merely shrugged, hoping the matter could be set aside.
Her mother released her, reticence in her pose. “I’m here, if you ever want to talk.”
She did. She so desperately did, though she wondered if her mother could accept the truth—that her daughter loved the empress of a hated nation.
“Mom . . .” Her tongue faltered—not for shame but for fear. Perhaps a muted version of the truth instead. “There is something—something I’ve told no one about.” Her mother’s searching eyes saw nothing, for the truth was too outlandish to guess. Pressure swelled in Tallora’s chest, longing for release. “There was a spot of joy in Solvira, someone I had to leave behind and never see again. Her name . . .”
“Oh, Dauriel, my empress . . .”
“. . . her name was Leah. She was one of the courtesans, and I have never loved anyone like I loved her.”
The lie didn’t matter; the words ruptured the tight ball in her chest. Tallora’s hands covered her face when the first of her sobs wracked her body.
Her mother left for only a moment, to shut the door of the shop. When she returned to Tallora’s side, she held her in a tight embrace. “I didn’t want anyone to think,” Tallora managed between sobs, “that I had been manipulated into speaking well of Solvira, so we resolved to tell no one about it once I left. I have to forget her, but my heart still feels like it’s a thousand miles away.”
Mother’s hand stroked soothing lines into her white locks. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through this alone.” Tallora felt a kiss in her hair. “Won’t you tell me about her? I want to know everything.”
They settled in by the wall. “She was cruel at first,” Tallora said, the admittance welling fresh hurt in her lungs, staunching her easy breaths, “yet we came to be friends. We never should have fallen in love, but she’s the one who saved me from the Morathan Ambassador when he was supposed to sleep with me. She risked everything to protect me from Empress Vahla. Her love was sincere. She proved it in all she did.”
She spoke of light and love, of their cruel beginning and heartbreaking end—all that she could without revealing Dauriel’s true identity. By the end, she lay with her head in her mother’s lap, idly watching her tailfin float in the still water. Mother’s fingers wove tender lines through her hair. “I’ve done all I can to move on,” Tallora finished, “but I’m still hurting.”
“Is that why you’ve attached yourself to Kal?”
“More like he’s attached himself to me, but . . .” She shut her eyes, remembering Kal’s hand in hers. “Yes. I like Kal. I love spending time with him, and I think I could love him. I want to fall for him.”
“It would be a charmed life, to be his queen.”
But not his empress. Tallora idly stroked her finger along her mother’s scales, finding comfort in the pattern.
“But you can’t force yourself to fall in love, and you haven’t a hope when you still love that girl in Solvira.”
“Then what do I do?” Tallora looked up into her mother’s wise eyes and saw her sad smile reflected downward.
“You need more time. And that’s awful to say, because I know you want it to be over and done with, but if you truly love this girl, you have to hurt to heal. And you will. Time heals everything. But the time isn’t over yet.”
Tallora nodded, her heart aching, but her soul felt lighter by subtle degrees. “How long did it take you to heal?”
Behind her mother’s smile were threatened tears. Tallora’s papa was a weight wherever they went—not a burden, no. But a presence. “I’ll let you know, once the healing is done.”
When silence settled, they broke apart. They reopened the shop. Tallora returned to her duties, her lungs finally able to draw breath.
The Great Fire Trenches held the entrance to a cave myth said led to the core of the realm. Others said it was a monster’s tomb and the winding maze of caves were carved, meant to detour the foolhardy from finding it. A river of molten rock ran through the bottom, sending blasts of hot water through cracks in the walls and bubbles of searing heat into the boiling hot springs. The dangerous terrain held beauty, yes, but had also claimed countless lives over the centuries—from reckless drunkards daring to touch the molten floor to small children wandering into the caves and never returning.
Naturally, it became a popular attraction.
That evening, Tallora followed Kal, laughing all the while. The Trench was an hour’s swim from Stelune, and despite the uplifting mood, anxiety rang like a bell in her head. For six months, she’d been a shut-in; a small piece of her hoped this would be the beginning of something better.
“You said your cousin is hosting this party?” she asked when the trench came into view. Riotous revelers laughed at the bottom, some dancing, others enjoying the hot springs.
“Correct. Duke Raileigh of Black Reef. But don’t call him that. Just call him ‘Duke.’”
Tallora chuckled, unimpressed at this apparently eccentric gentleman. “Really?”
“He’s a bit of a loon, but my uncle lets him throw all the money he wants into parties, so he’s a good man to keep around.” Kal swam ahead; Tallora raced to follow.
The heat rose the deeper they swam, but for all the hazards of this place, no one had actually boiled to death. Yet. The brilliant hints of red peeking beneath the expanding cavern served as an ominous warning. The sight was unquestionably beautiful, the craggy terrain too hot for life. No plants could grow here, so there remained only cliffs of stark black rock.
To combat the ominous aura, Tallora focused instead on the partiers and the trays of gelatinous bait—colorful, sweetened, and fermented. She’d tried wine once during her days above land and found it bitter. Bait served the same purpose, to intoxicate your senses and loosen your tongue, but held sweetness to combat its bite.