Hope Sundered

Ginica’s wail echoed off the stone, catching her grief and amplifying it, as if empathizing with her loss. Numbness had consumed her entire body. Her heart was heavy, her stomach ill, her chest tight. She hugged herself and shut her eyes, desperate to escape from the truth of Keila’s admission.

It wasn’t fair.

Keila sat in silence as a witness to the devastation her news had wrought. She knew all too well comfort would be impossible to find now. Her own grief was still so raw, so unwilling to receive consolation. She remembered how she’d offer her condolences to mourning villagers in the past; those sentiments seemed so hollow now, almost inappropriate. Even the kindest words were no salve for a shattered soul.

Mere heartbeats after Ginica’s cry began, Sekka burst into the room, followed by the woman who’d been standing next to her in the throne room. Both were brandishing weapons. Panic colored their faces as their eyes darted back and forth between their queen and her guest.

Keila threw her hands up, palms out. “Wait! I only told her about my father!” she said in fearful Avelirian, but her words meant nothing to their ears.

Ginica quelled their fears in Nokri, despite her quivering voice. Sekka and the woman sheathed their blades, but not their concern as Ginica relayed the news. Weeping, the woman covered her gaping mouth with one hand and placed the other on Ginica’s shoulder.

Sekka dropped to his knees before his queen and embraced her, a gesture she returned tenfold as she released a fresh round of tears upon his broad shoulder.

Keila was stunned to see that Ginica’s torment nearly eclipse her own, and the sight of her grieving like a widow for her father dredged up a host of her own choking sobs. Her lingering doubts about this woman being her mother were dissolving in the tears now escaping her eyes.

“I wish I could see his smile one last time,” Ginica sighed after several minutes of heavy silence. “For so long I wanted to return, but my distance kept you both safe. I just couldn’t risk it.”

“I really do look just like you,” Keila remarked between sniffles, marveling at their likeness.

“Except for your eyes,” Ginica said. “No doubt they saved you from being an outcast among the kokitu. I’m sure no one in Craeda’s Hill suspected you’re half-Nokri, despite your hair being as red as it is.”

Keila furrowed her brow. “You keep mentioning Craeda’s Hill, but I’m from Chastin.”

“Chastin? Losi must’ve decided you’d be safer there, being so remote and hidden in the Deep Wood. He was always so clever.”

“Father never said a word about any of this,” Keila replied, surprised to find herself feeling hurt.

Ginica shook her head. “Don’t blame him, Keila. His silence was an act of love guaranteeing your survival, like my absence. Our shared hope in being reunited allowed us to endure these long years of painful separation. That’s why I named my son Sekka. It means ‘hope’ in our tongue.”

Keila’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes shifted between her mother and the man beside her. “Sekka’s your son? That means…that means he’s my…”

“Oh Keila,” Ginica sighed. “There’s still so much to tell you.”

Keila met Sekka’s gaze and held it for a long awkward moment, grateful her uneasy stomach was empty at the moment. She’d gone from being the only child of a single father her entire life to gaining a mother and a brother in a single day.

Sekka dropped to one knee before her and bowed his head. “You’re the daughter of my Queen, and so you are also my Queen,” he said reverently in the Nokri tongue, which Ginica translated.

“I don’t understand,” Keila said, her head spinning with the notion of being royalty, let alone having the blood of another race flowing through her veins. “How can we both be the queen?”

“The Nokri derive their identity more from their relation to one another than from titles and deeds. As my daughter, you’re considered to be an echo of me, just as your children would be echoes of both of us, and so on. You’re a queen as much as I am.”

“Does that mean Sekka’s a king?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Then shouldn’t I be bowing to him? I mean, I’m the outsider here.”

Ginica smiled. “You’re my firstborn, and he knows this. He’s acknowledging your birthright and declaring his fealty.”

Keila shut her eyes and shook her head. “This is too much. Besides, I thought you said the Nokri wouldn’t recognize me as your daughter.”

“The Moesa won’t recognize you,” Ginica clarified, “but the Jitsa don’t share their prejudices.”

“What about her?” Keila motioned to the woman. “Am I related to her as well?”

“This is Colbi, my official bodyguard and most trusted friend.”

After a moment Keila asked, “What’s the Nokri word for honor?” Ginica told her, and she attempted to thank him for honoring her with his vow of service. It must’ve been close enough, because Sekka smiled and nodded. He rose to his feet, relief evident in his features.

Keila could see the resemblance between mother and son, and wondered if she and Sekka shared any noticeable similarities. A mother, a brother—everything was still so fresh as to almost be surreal, yet at the same time she found herself longing for a moment like this.

Was she really led here to raise an army, or was she being given a second chance to find a home? The Azrahterans might decide the Southern Wilds were barren and worthless, and turn their attention elsewhere. She might be safe here.

So much to ponder, so much to consider, so much to sort out, and so little time for any of it.