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I deserve to live. The thought came like a thunderclap. She had known her worth since the day she was born. Exile had beaten her into
Still, she imagined the loss of a loved one would hurt like an arrowhead lodged in the body.
Life would grow and twine around it, but it would remain, always hurting.
‘I don’t need anyone to save me. All I ever ask is that you not abandon me.’
The orange tree had decided that battle. When Cleolind had eaten its fruit, she had become a living ember, a vessel of the sacred flame, giving her the strength to defeat the beast. The tree had saved her from his fire and graced her with its own.
The cruel beauty of the desert. How small her existence had seemed in the face of it. How the sand had sparkled like shattered ruby.
‘It was laying eyes upon the world, being part of it, that made me appreciate the importance of protecting it.
You have made her so proud over the years. This mistake is a small part of your life. It does not define it.’
We might be able to stop each other falling – or we could pull each other down. So be it. If we fall, we fall together.
My mind is full.’ ‘Clouds are often full. And then it rains.’
A queen should learn the ways of watching. Like a falcon, she waits for her moment to strike. She also knows when she need not strike at all – when her shadow, her presence, is more than enough.
