On Lonely Paths (Earth and Sky Book 2) Page 6

Wisteria scowled, but she did not say anything, and Tierra found herself wishing they could leave her sister behind. But Tierra knew why her parents had insisted on Wisteria’s attendance; it would not look good if one of the members of the Groundbreather ruling family was not present when their new trade partners crowned their king. Especially when their other daughter was to marry that king.

  “We may leave now,” Tillman told Skye.

  The prince nodded and motioned to the other Skychildren, and the group of Groundbreathers gathered together and boarded the glider, most of them appearing nervous at the prospect of flying up into the sky. In addition to the royal family, a few guards and a group of the highest-ranking Groundbreather barons would be in attendance. The delegation was designed to show a level of respect for the Skychildren without seeming threatening. The accord between the two peoples was still very new, after all.

  “Shall you and I fly up together, Princess?” Skye asked, fixing Tierra with a roguish sort of leer.

  “Of course!” she replied. “Your style of flight is much less cumbersome than that of a glider.”

  Skye grinned at her, but he did not say anything. He had a quick word with her father, and though Tillman looked at Tierra, amusement in his gaze, he only waved Skye off and boarded the glider without speaking further.

  A moment later, Skye wrapped his arms around Tierra, and the pair shot up into the sky, the glider lifting off the ground to follow, but soon falling far behind. Tierra cried out with exhilaration. As they left the other party behind, Tierra heard Wisteria cry out, but a quick look showed that the noise was made in shock and fear. For once, Tierra had the satisfaction of her sister being uncomfortable while she was completely at ease.

  The wind moved in Tierra’s hair and dress, and she watched as Skymount loomed in the distance, the palace on its surface gleaming in the light of the sun. A certain amount of pride filled her at the sight. The edifice was ancient, but the Groundbreathers had had a part in rebuilding it after the battle with the Fenik. It was the first and largest reminder of the new era she and Skye had launched.

  Tierra and Skye arrived far ahead of the glider. They occupied themselves with speaking in low tones together, and not a few endearments and gentle kisses were exchanged. But at last the glider arrived as well, and it set down in front of the palace, positioned away from the edge of the clouds in deference to the Groundbreathers’ comfort. Gusty, after securing the vessel, turned and smiled at the Groundbreathers, gesturing toward the entrance. “If you will follow me, I will lead you to the throne room where the coronation is to take place.”

  “I’m going to go on ahead,” Skye said, his expression sheepish. “I should have left all this to Gusty, but I wanted to be a part of it.”

  Tillman smiled as he turned to look at Tierra. “I cannot imagine why,” he said. He then chuckled and clapped Skye on the shoulder. “Go on, young man.”

  Skye nodded and flashed Tierra a grin before he hurried off.

  The rest of the group started into the palace at a leisurely pace, but rather than follow behind Gusty, Tillman walked beside him, and from where she walked, Tierra could hear their conversation.

  “The coronation is in the throne room?” Tillman asked.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. The throne room is a place that is held sacred above all others in the sky realm.”

  “That is indeed an interesting difference in our cultures. I was crowned in the Mountain of Terrain, an older Groundbreather temple that is some days’ journey from the castle. Do you Skychildren have similar places of worship?”

  “No, Your Majesty,” Gusty said. “Skychildren are taught to worship and commune with Celesta through quiet meditation. It’s more of an internal form of worship, I suppose.”

  The conversation continued, and Tierra could only be grateful that her father was taking such an interest in their new friends. Behind Tierra, however, she could hear Wisteria’s quiet snort and her whispered “Barbarians!” followed by Sequoia’s stern “Wisteria!”

  “I would not mind a tour of the palace sometime,” Tillman commented.

  “If you’d like one right now, you can have one,” Gusty said. “We have a little time before the coronation starts.”

  Tillman glanced first at Sequoia, who gave him no encouragement, and then at Tierra, who smiled at him.

  “Father, you should take this chance while you can,” Tierra said. “I imagine you will find it as fascinating as I have.”

  Both Sequoia and Wisteria looked as though they had swallowed something sour, but neither verbalized their displeasure as Gusty led the group through the palace and told them a little of its history. While Sequoia and Wisteria did not seem appreciative of the sights, Tillman acted as though he found much in which to be interested.

  At last, however, they entered the throne room, which had been restored to its former glory. The ugly forms of the thunderbirds still roosted in its heights as they had before, and a hoarse call could occasionally be heard from one of the creatures. And there, above the throne, the image of the dragon glittered in the sun. Incongruously, Tierra was happy that it had not been destroyed in the wreck of the battle. It was much too powerful and awe-inspiring to have been confined to the dust just because the creature it had portrayed had suddenly been released.

  As the other Groundbreathers moved to stand in the area Gusty designated to be theirs—no chairs or benches had been placed, Tierra noted, which appeared to be yet another example of how much the Skychildren disliked formal ceremonies—Tierra walked forward with them, glancing around the room in an attempt to find Skye. He was already speaking to a small group of Skychildren, a hint of amusement tugging at his mouth, as though he knew something they did not. It was a further testament to the difference in races. The Groundbreathers would have had a procession to bring in the soon-to-be-crowned ruler, but the Skychildren were much more relaxed.

  Skychildren were still entering the throne room and milling about when Skye caught Tierra’s eye and approached her. His hand started to move forward, as if to grasp hers, but then he seemed to think better of behaving in such a forward manner. “I’m sorry I had to scurry off, Tierra, but I had to speak to a few people before the ceremony.”

  “It is no problem. Gusty showed us around the palace, and I think we all enjoyed ourselves.”

  “I would have preferred having a toe chewed off by a garm to having a tour of this hovel,” Wisteria muttered.

  Sequoia gave the eldest princess a sharp look but said nothing. Perhaps she knew that Wisteria needed to vent her spleen.

  “I believe I can already pick out a few differences between our ceremonies,” Tillman said, his voice pleasant yet measured.

  “I am not surprised,” Skye said. “To be honest, I suspect that the coronation ceremony in the sky realm might vanish altogether in a few centuries.”

  “If only your civilization would vanish along with it,” Wisteria said under her breath.

  “Wisteria!” Sequoia snapped. “One more word out of you, and you shall learn the true meaning of the word ‘misery.’”

  Rather than look offended or angry, Skye seemed amused, and Tierra wondered whether he picked up on her mother’s embarrassment. The ever-proper Sequoia would not have wanted to show any sign of weakness or any blatant impoliteness to the Skychildren as a people, lest it mar the perfect image of the Groundbreathers that she wished to be upheld.

  Wisteria’s eyes blazed as she glared at Skye, but he only watched, his amusement becoming more apparent. That seemed to rile up Wisteria even more.

  “Is the coronation to begin soon?” Tillman asked, changing the subject. But though his words seemed pleasant enough, his hard eyes rested on Wisteria. For once, the girl held her tongue.

  “It begins whenever I wish it to,” Skye said. “It’s typical to wait for people to finish entering the room, though. But there are always some stragglers, no matter how long you wait.”

  “Are you nervous?” Tierra asked.

  Skye,
who seemed downright jovial that day, reached out and grabbed her hands. “How could I be nervous with you here beside me?”

  “I will not actually be beside you—”

  “Yes, you will. If you don’t mind, that is.”

  Tierra frowned, wondering at the bright grin on her fiancé’s face. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I would like you to come up with me. I could use the support.”

  Tierra raised an eyebrow. “Is that traditional?”

  “Nothing about our union has been traditional, Tierra. Why stop now?”

  “Perhaps it would be better if Tierra stayed here,” Sequoia said. Her voice sounded uneasy, as though she felt Skye had decided to recklessly deviate from a script that had been laid out eons ago.

  “You don’t need to worry, Your Majesty,” Skye said, looking at Sequoia. “I would not be the first king to have one of my loved ones standing beside me while taking the crown.”

  “I do not—” Sequoia began, but Tierra cut her off.

  “I would like to go up there with him, Mother. It will act as one more example of our solidarity. We want people to see us standing together.”

  “Let her go, Sequoia,” Tillman said gently, touching his wife’s arm.

  The queen’s gaze upon Tierra was firm, and for a moment, it appeared she meant to protest further. But then, she abruptly softened. “Very well. Go with him, Tierra. You know you mean to do it regardless of whether I approve.”

  Tierra smiled, pressed her mother’s hands, and then allowed Skye to lead her away.

  He took her to the center of the room, moving them in front of the throne and behind a small table that had been set up to show off the crown that would soon be placed on Skye’s head. Whereas the Groundbreather crowns were bulky and imposing, the crown before Skye and Tierra was a work of art. It seemed as though it were formed from the white gold that made up Skychildren wedding bracelets, with thin pieces of the metal interwoven to create a crown that was delicate in appearance, though it was no doubt as strong as any Groundbreather jewelry. There was an appreciation for aesthetics to be seen in every curve and line, and Tierra felt it wholly appropriate that such a magnificent thing was to be placed on Skye’s head.

  As Skye caught her admiration of the crown, he murmured, “You should see the queen’s crown.”

  Tierra could not help the blush that warmed her cheeks. It still felt strange to acknowledge the fact that she would soon be married.

  She murmured something, though she hardly knew what she was saying, and Skye chuckled at her discomfort.

  “Will there be someone to direct the ceremony?” Tierra whispered, suddenly nervous. So many eyes were on her that it made her feel self-conscious.

  “No,” the Skychild replied with a grin. “Just watch.”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed it to comfort her, and she fluttered her fingers against his with a smile. After one last squeeze, he let her hand go and raised his arms.

  “Hail, all!” he called out.

  The other Skychildren in the room ceased their quiet conversations and called back joyfully, “Hail!”

  Most of the Groundbreathers exchanged surprised glances at this sudden outburst of noise, and Tierra glanced beside her at Skye in curiosity. He grinned at her.

  “Just watch,” he said through their link. “I think you’ll find that our Skychildren ceremonies are different from what you stodgy Groundbreathers are used to.”

  “Be nice,” Tierra admonished.

  Skye only waggled his eyebrows at her before he turned back to his people.

  “My fellow dwellers of the sky, blessed children of our great and beloved goddess Celesta, hear me now. I come before you today humbled by the thought of the role I must assume. The death of my father at the hand of the traitor Hawkins has necessitated that I take up his mantle many years before I had ever thought I would be called upon to do so. But though I am hesitant at the thought of taking on such a role, I do so with a glad heart, knowing that the world is changing. I invoke the name of the goddess and submit myself as her chosen heir in the sky realm.”

  An older lord who was tall yet heavyset came forward and bowed to Skye. “Our liege has presented himself as ruler of the Skychildren. Are there any here who can deny his claim? Are there any who can deny his heritage back through time and history to our goddess?”

  “This is the tricky part,” Skye told Tierra through their link. “I must be accepted by the people as a whole. Every Skychild is descended from Celesta, after all, so that heritage alone is not enough to support my claim.”

  “What happens if anyone objects?” Tierra asked, examining the assembled Skychildren carefully. Fortunately, they remained silent and still.

  “If someone speaks up, they must prove they have a stronger claim to the throne than I possess.”

  “How do they prove it?”

  “A duel to the death.”

  Shocked, Tierra twisted her head toward Skye. Then she noted the sly turn at the corners of his mouth and the way his eyes appeared to be dancing, and she almost forgot herself and cuffed him on the side of the head.

  “You Skychildren have a strange sense of humor.”

  Skye laughed through their link. “Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. In truth, if anyone speaks up, their claim will be examined, including their lineage back to Celesta’s eldest son, Zephyr.” Skye winked at her. “Don’t worry—my closest relations are some cousins who are descended from my grandfather’s younger brother. Nobody has a closer claim to the throne than I have, and no one has ever successfully challenged the claim to the throne.”

  “Sire,” the lord who had first spoken said, bowing in Skye’s direction, “it appears there is no dissension. It is acknowledged that the throne is yours by right and by the line of succession back to our goddess, the great Celesta.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Skye said, bowing at the man, who once again took his place with the other assembled lords.

  “My fellow Skychildren, in the name of Celesta, I do accept this crown and all it entails,” Skye said. Reaching out, he gently removed the circlet from his head and held it in the air. “As the king ascending to the throne, I put aside this circlet, a symbol of the childhood of a prince. In its place, I shall accept the weight of a crown, a symbol of the heavy responsibilities of a king.”

  Skye set the circlet down and then took the crown in his hands, holding the delicate headpiece as if it were the greatest and most precious of treasures. “As I stretch forth my hands to receive this crown, I do so with the greatest of humility.”

  Skye paused and looked about the great throne room. The air was filled with anticipation, which was to be expected, but as Tierra glanced around, she saw a few Skychildren sharing puzzled glances. It seemed Skye was doing something not normally done. Considering how relaxed the Skychildren tended to be, not only in their manner of worship, but also in how they conducted such important ceremonies, Tierra marveled that they would have such a reaction.

  “Follow my lead, Tierra,” Skye’s voice sounded in her head. “I need you to do something for me, and some people may not like it.”

  Tierra hesitated. “Are you sure about this, Skye?”

  “As sure as I’ve ever been in my life.”

  Skye’s gaze reassured Tierra, and she nodded.

  “We stand at the precipice of the future,” Skye said, breaking the silence and allowing his gaze to pass over the assembled. His tone and manner were firm and unyielding, yet also conciliatory and inviting. “For the first time in the history of our two peoples, the Skychildren and Groundbreathers have come together for a common purpose. Without the help of our friends who live on the ground world below, we could not have defeated the usurper Hawkins. This coronation ceremony is, as you can see, being witnessed by not only their king and queen, but also by members of their court and, most importantly, by their youngest daughter and my betrothed, Princess Tierra.”

  Smiling, Skye shifted the crown into his o
utside hand, while the other grasped Tierra’s closest hand. He brought her hand up to his heart and pressed it to his breast, cradling it tenderly. She could almost feel the vibration of his heart as it beat beneath her hand, and she responded to his loving smile with one of her own.

  “The world is changing, my people,” Skye continued, speaking over the murmurs that had sprung up during his moment of silence. The crowd quieted once again. “The enmity between the Skychildren and the Groundbreathers is coming to an end, as is symbolized by our coming union. We must change with it.”

  He glanced over at Tierra, his expression serious yet soft. “Accordingly, I will not choose a Skychild to place this crown upon my head. Instead, I would like Princess Tierra of the Groundbreathers, my betrothed, to accept this task.”

  The noise that broke out among the Skychildren then was louder than a murmur, and the assembled Groundbreathers exchanged surprised glances of their own. Even Tierra, who knew Skye meant to do something unusual, felt shocked by the announcement. She looked at Skye and asked through their link, “Skye, while I appreciate the honor, are you certain about this?”

  “Absolutely,” he returned without hesitation. His blue eyes met her amber ones unwaveringly, and he squeezed her fingers.

  After a moment, Tiera settled her gaze on the crowd and noted that the consternation seemed especially thick among the nobility of the Skychildren. Then her eyes met those of Cirrus, and a chill ran through her. The expression on his face seemed almost malevolent as he watched her. She had not realized his dislike for her ran so deep, and she hoped his friendship with Skye would prevent him from doing anything rash on this important day.

  This day was not about Cirrus; it was about Skye. And as Tierra looked at her betrothed, she felt her breast fill with resolve, and she said, “Then please tell me what to do.”

  Skye released his grip on her fingers and moved his free hand back to the crown. He dropped to one knee and held the crown up to Tierra, who accepted it with tremulous hands.

  “Repeat after me,” Skye said. There was not the slightest hint of nervousness in his demeanor.