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But the people, as it were, came second. Mother’s wishes always took first priority.
You’re just a good little Alpha, aren’t you?
The taunt made the muscles in my thighs twitch, ruining what little was left of the meditative space in my head.
I let the trapped breath fizzle between my lips, resigning myself to a false start to a beautiful Goddess-given day.
Large, beady eyes stared into my own as my eyelids parted. Touwi, a bullfrog the size of my palm, sat on the edge of the pond, watching me unblinkingly. As I called out a good morning, his eyes narrowed into slits as though challenging that sentiment.
With a swift leap, he lifted himself off the ground and smacked wetly onto the floating lily pad, crouched with his back to me as though he were a part of my royal guard.
I let a finger run down his soaked back, and he made a little noise that was a cross between a protest and a request for more. His aura was a healthy pink, and I knew my ministrations were welcome.
Unlike the dull noise of his ribbeting, his lifesong was melodic, melding beautifully with the garden’s symphony. The notes rose and dipped with each little froggy breath, and I found my own lungs filling and emptying at a slower rate to match his lifesong and cardiac rhythm.
All living, breathing beings had a lifesong that was unique to them. Like pheromones, this was not something that most could control, although I believed many wished they could. It was easy to gauge someone’s general mood by the rhythm of their lifesong alone. At the moment, Touwi was relaxed and receptive to my touch, awaiting a new day to unfold.
Sunlight bathed my skin, pouring through the glass roof and lighting up the pond water in a brilliant dance. I let my fingers dangle in the cool ripples, feeling the ebb and flow of nature’s energy as it traveled through each vein in my body. I was a conduit today, letting the Goddess’s intention guide me, filling my soul with gratitude.
The gardens had once been my great grandmother’s pride and joy. She’d been a naturopath and enchanter unlike Vetri had ever seen. With her powers and cunning wisdom, Queen Ada’s control over the kingdom had been absolute. She had won the vote of the feuding clans to the East and the farming people to the West, and it had been a time of peace and abundance.
Every detail and nuance of the gardens reminded me of her. Granted, she had only been alive for the first ten years of my life, but the sharp smell of citrus and the smoothness of the lily pad under my bottom were all remnants of her rule.
She had taught me that self-control and patience were virtues that made us Goddesses, and I endeavored to make her proud.
“Olympia.”
With a call of my name, scraps of serenity in the early dawn were shattered. Touwi fled the lily pad with a panicked leap, his aura shifting from pink to gray—a dismal, dreary color that reflected the shroud around my heart.
Mother had an alarming way of saying my name, the last syllable raised in a heart-skittering soprano. As a child, it had terrified me to no end. It implicated wrong-doing even if I hadn’t been up to mischief.
As an adult, I didn’t fare any better. A faint chill sluiced through my blood as mother rounded the corner, gliding past the dragonblooms with her loyal guards by her side. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could swear a few of the blooms shuddered and shook as she walked past. It was a distinct possibility—after all, mother’s earth enchantment powers were far stronger than mine. It made the air around her thrum with natural energy, invigorating all organic life.
Notes from her lifesong pelted my ears, the high pitch almost deafening. I forced myself to tune it out for some semblance of peace.
Oreani the Bold was dressed in a courtroom classic—a combination of long, wide-legged pants and a half-skirt drape that enabled easy movement. She was partial to shades of green that complemented her resplendent copper curls, and the sage silk she’d selected today brought out the peach tones in her cheeks.
To the outside world, it was clear that we shared blood and bone. The Summerstream traits were far more dominant than any other clan that dared mixed their blood with ours. All the queens before me bore red curls and peach-tinted complexions with a divot in their chins, and I was no exception.
But I only saw the differences. Mother was asoverbearing in her personal relationships as she was in court, while I preferred to push the agenda with persistence rather than force. She considered that my weakness—but what she didn’t,couldn’t,understand was that there was more than one way to rule a kingdom, and if it was my fate to guide Vetri to the next century, I would do itmyway, with grace and pride and just the right amount of bearing.
Jeweled accessories clinked as mother moved, notes of gold shimmering at her ears, neck, and waist. The looping belt bore our clan’s emblem, two curved leaves growing upward and outwards, connecting at the very tips to create an infinite circle. Although simple, our emblem told the story of wholeness, a joining of nature and divinity in our abundant lands. It was an embodiment of who we were as earth enchanters and naturopaths, channeling the powers of the Earth Goddess through our fingertips.
A similar gold emblem gleamed on my throat, just a fraction of the one mother wore. It had once been a large ring on my great grandmother’s middle finger, and she had bequeathed it to me upon her death. A talented goldsmith had carefully dismantled the ring to forge into a thin necklace instead. I touched the cool metal now, willing some strength from Queen Ada. The Goddess knew I’d need it for an early morning confrontation with my mother.
As Oreani walked, not a single blade of grass dared to tether itself to the hem of her skirts.
“Olympia!” she called again, and I resisted the urge to neaten my hair and hide the dark stain on my surcoat. I rose from the lily pad, thanking it for its service, and stepped onto the grassy bank.
A piece of ash floated in my direction, and I flicked at it absently.
I felt the censure in mother’s aura before she stopped in front of me.
“Didn’t you hear me calling?” she asked, the inflexion of her voice sharp enough to hurt my ears.
“A new day has yet to dawn, Mother,” I murmured through gritted teeth. “I was meditating.”
“There’s no time for that nonsense today,” she berated, atut-tutevident in her voice. “Our travel begins at noon.”
