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Suddenly, she felt as though she knew that little boy, but that was impossible. Yet the feeling remained.
Behind the colonel, Havily spoke to Seriffe’s wife. She could hear them chattering as Havily gestured in small wild movements with her hands, but the colonel’s broad shoulders and six-five frame hid most of his wife.
Two older children moved up next to their father, both with Seriffe’s dark hair and eyes. The toddler in his arms turned in Alison’s direction and held his arms out to her. He looked achingly familiar to Fiona. Surely she had seen this child before, somewhere. But she’d been in Metro Phoenix Two barely a week. Alison took him easily and started speaking softly to him. He put his little hands on her face, and Alison kissed his fingers.
Her mind swam with images from long ago. Her daughter had looked just like this child, from the large silvery blue eyes, to the light curly brown hair, to the sweetest smile in the world.
Her gaze slid from the little boy, to Seriffe, then his wife joined him. Fiona met her eyes. She knew this woman. She knew her. She couldn’t place her but another set of chills chased down her back, and this time her shoulders and arms as well, until her fingertips hummed with unsuspected power, even recognition. She knew her, but how? Had she been a blood slave who had escaped at one time, maybe decades ago? But that was impossible. Fiona would have remembered if any of the slaves had escaped.
Weirdest of all, tears started spilling from Fiona’s eyes and the woman’s eyes at almost exactly at the same moment. Fiona wept and the woman wept. But why? Fiona gave a little cry and the woman shook her head back and forth. She put her hands to her mouth and cried out behind her fingers.
“What’s wrong, Carolyn?” Seriffe asked. “Darling, what’s wrong? This is … Fiona. Oh … dear … God. You have the same eyes. I didn’t see it before.”
Havily drew up beside the young mother. “What is it, Carolyn? What’s happening? Fiona, are you all right? Why are you crying? Why are you both crying? What did I miss?”
Alison just looked from one woman to the next then echoed Seriffe. “Oh, dear God. It can’t be!”
The young mother, Carolyn, the one with the silvery blue eyes, finally said, “Mother? Is that you? After all these decades, you didn’t die? You ascended? Oh, God, Mother is that you?”
“Carolyn? Carolyn Gaines of Boston?”
She nodded.
“You didn’t drown in a yachting accident?”
“No. I ascended in 1913.” She gestured with a graceful hand to the toddler in Alison’s arms, to the older boys beside the colonel, then to Seriffe himself. “This is my family. The colonel and I … we married a few years ago.”
Fiona’s gaze hadn’t left Carolyn’s beautiful silvery eyes, her light honey-brown hair, the slight angel-kiss in her chin. “My daughter,” she whispered. “Dearest Creator in heaven … my daughter.”
She lost all sensation in her feet and before she understood what was happening, she fell into a black abyss of shock and disbelief and something more, something wonderful, something, yes, very much like … joy.
***
Parisa Lovejoy, newly appointed Guardian of Ascension, tried on the ceremonial royle robe. It had been designed for her based on portraits of Luchianne, done by historical artists about five hundred years earlier. The renditions had been created as a combination of Endelle’s descriptions and anecdotal evidence provided by scholar Philippe Reynard.
Despite all that she had been through with Antony, especially the role she had played beside him during the recent Grand Canyon battle, she felt ridiculous wearing the floor-length garments. Viewing herself in the mirror, she looked like something out of ancient Rome. Who are you, what are you doing wearing such elegant robes, how can you be this person, this woman?
She felt panicky. To go from librarian, to the bonded breh of a Warrior of the Blood, to a Guardian of Ascension, to an ambassador of Second Earth with royle wings was all way too much. To say the least, she felt inadequate.
The outer garment was deep purple with a soft but very large curled collar. Heavy wide sleeves were embroidered all around the bell-like cuffs with an intricate pattern of swirls meant to represent wind.
She turned to the side and lowered the outer robe to her waist. The shimmery gold silk of the under-robe felt right to her, though. It was cut in a T down her back, similar to her weapons harness, and was intended for wing release.
She let the outer garment fall in a purple puddle to the floor. Beneath all the gold silk was a fine mesh that secured the fabric of the skirt to her soft leggings. It had felt so strange when she’d first put the garment on, but she understood the purpose. When she was in flight, the mesh would keep the gown close to her body. Nothing had been left to chance.
Antony appeared behind her in the mirror. She turned to him. He wore a similar getup, leggings and all, but he looked magnificent. His hair was pulled back tight in the cadroen, which of course showed off his high strong cheekbones and his overall beauty. Her lips parted as she looked at him. And he was all hers? What miracle had brought so much man, so much warrior into her life, to savor, to love, to enjoy forever, God willing.
The gods had smiled on her. There could be no other answer.
Antony smiled. Her heart ached at the sight. She put her hand on his cheek. “I love you,” she murmured.
He put his hands on her arms and drew a deep breath. He released it slowly. “Why are you fretting?”
“I thought I would be a warrior. I was going to enter the training program.”
“I know.”
“I still want to. My heart yearns for that, to be a warrior like you. But I think what I’ve come to realize is that every ascender is a warrior, no matter the occupation.”
Antony kissed her. “So much wisdom for one so young. And remember, nothing is fixed. Right now we both have this job to do, but it’s conceivable you could enter the program later.”
Her spirits lifted. “That’s true, isn’t it? I keep forgetting that the ascended life has the potential for immortality.”
She looked down at the purple linen pooled around her feet. “How am I worthy of any of this?”
He shrugged. “We aren’t. Neither of us. No ascender can be, and the minute you think you’re worthy, you’re in trouble. Besides, I think you need some perspective about what’s going to happen. Madame Endelle is sending us on a one-hundred-day tour of one hundred Territories. By the time we return I have no doubt we will both want to burn these robes, and we’ll have a whole new set of really bad words to describe Her Supremeness.”
