The Girl Who Belonged to the Sea by Katherine Quinn
Sneak Peek of The Night’s Chosen
By E. E. Hornburg
Eira never dreaded sunset. Or the Moon Festival. Or returning home. Or seeing the Oxarian royal family. She had always looked forward to those things. But not today. If only she could stop time.
No, not stop time, exactly. If she stopped time, Eira would never become queen.
She’d spent her life, all twenty-odd years of it, preparing to reign. She wanted to stop the wedding, something she should have been as prepared for as ruling Cresin.
Eira twirled the betrothal band around her wrist. The wedding was going to happen, regardless of what she wanted. With a deep exhale, she closed her eyes and sang, hoping to ease the storm brewing inside and instead focus on the peaceful magic bestowed on her by Luana’s priestesses.
The song ignited the crescent moon tattoo on her chest, and as it glowed, stars formed and sparkled around her head. Swirls of darkness poured out of her fingers and mingled with the betrothal band. The tune and words were meant to sooth and calm the soul, make the singer become one with Luana and be as peaceful as the night sky. Yet it did little to ease the darkness, ice, and stars warring underneath Eira’s skin.
Luana grant me peace…grant me grace…
The wedding was this week. Tonight, she and Alvis were going to perform the opening ceremony for the Moon Festival, ushering in Luana’s season, where the nights became longer than the day. This year, it would also signify the start of the wedding celebrations. As the Chosens of Luana and Ray, it was believed pieces of the souls of the god and goddess resided inside both she and Alvis, making them the closest to the deities their people would ever have. The two had been betrothed her entire life. Yet now the week arrived and she still wasn’t ready.
A knock came at the door, breaking Eira’s trance. With a wave of her arms, the stars and darkness vanished, and her tattoo faded. Taking a deep breath, she closed her robe and moved to the door, where the knocking was becoming incessant.
“Eira! Will you quit all your praying and let me in?” Rose’s voice drifted from the other side of the door.
Her younger sister almost clubbed Eira in the eye with the velvet box she held as Eira pulled the door open.
“I’d imagine after a year of visiting temples, you’d have had enough of praying by now.” Rose barreled into the room, leaning on her crutch, and dropped the box on the vanity with a thud.
“It was more necessary than usual today.” Eira shut the door behind them and exhaled, pressing her lips together before placing her hands on her hips. “And maybe if I hadn’t received dozens of letters from you and Father begging me to come home from those temples, I wouldn’t need to pray so long this morning.”
Rose waved Eira off. “It wasn’t as though you hadn’t planned on being home in time for the Moon Festival. We were simply reminding you.”
She dropped her crutch and it clattered to the ground as she flopped onto the plush, deep blue bed, pale freckled arms outstretched. Her copper hair splayed out on the quilt like fiery waves.
Eira had only been home for a few days since her yearlong pilgrimage, and had a curious new fascination with Rose. In so many ways she was the same, but in spite of sending letters all year and seeing one another for the holy days, there was still something different Eira couldn’t put her finger on. Rose had always been as fiery as her red hair and ready to speak her mind at any given chance. She never sat still for more than a moment. Yet now there was an air of unease and distance about her Eira didn’t recognize. This was one of the reasons she was glad to be home, in spite of everything. She wanted to get to know her sister again.
“And it wasn’t dozens of letters,” Rose replied. “It’s been a difficult year.”
Eira crossed the room and sat on the bed next to Rose.
“I’m aware. It’s not as though I was only sitting in temples praying the whole time. I went and visited as many of the villages that needed help as I could. They’re recovering from the fires, but it’s going to take a long time.”
“I’m not only talking about the fire recovery.” Rose propped herself on her elbows. “People have been…talking.”
Eira shifted in her seat. “People talk often Rose, whether I’m here or not.”
“Last night after supper, Father and I overheard the Oxarian king and queen talking. It appears they have been concerned about your dedication to the betrothal.”
“Oh?” Eira rubbed the band on her wrist again, as though it were squeezing her tighter with each moment.
“It’s been five years since your original wedding date. While Father and Alvis have been more than happy to let you go off to university and travel the kingdoms, and your pilgrimage came at the perfect time after the forest fires so you could help the people while you traveled, King Rahim and Queen Shideh and other nobles from Oxare don’t see it the same way.”
They were smart. Of course they were. They’d raised Alvis, after all, and he was one of the most intelligent people she knew. Eira had been running for so long, and now there was nowhere else to go.
She straightened her shoulders and smiled. “Well, I’ll have to prove them wrong, won’t I? The whole opening ceremony for the Moon Festival is the commencement of the wedding celebrations. Once they see me there, they’ll know I haven’t changed my mind about the wedding.”
Rose groaned and pushed into a sitting position. “It’s not only them. There’re other people, too. They’re wondering why you haven’t been around.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Eira said, through a clenched jaw. “Royals travel through their kingdoms all the time. Father did before he became king, and still does. Besides, after I get married, I’m going to be in Oxare with Alvis for half the year anyway.”
“I know.”
Rose’s touch on her arm sent a wave of warm comfort through her, and Eira felt her shoulders relax. A hint at the closeness they once had.
“But you know how people are. Normally I wouldn’t worry about it, and I’ve been defending you, especially with the guard, and you have so many who are loyal to you…”
Of course Rose defended her. It’s what she’d been doing for her their entire lives. What they both had done for each other. No matter how many months Eira was away, she knew she never had to doubt Rose. Even when Eira doubted herself, if Rose was there, she knew all would be fine.
“But?” Eira prodded.
The hesitation in Rose’s voice was enough to make Eira’s concerns heighten.
“But it’s not only gossip. Some members of the council eventually listened, and talked too. So did Queen Amelia.” Rose grimaced at the idea of their stepmother. “You know how she is, though. I don’t suspect any of the priestesses have gossiped, but you know how close High Priestess Nyx is to some of the council members. I don’t want to concern you, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved you were coming home. This ceremony could be the start of your gaining back their trust.”
The new complication brought more to consider, and Eira rubbed her temples to ease the faint throbbing that had started, and slid off the bed. While she respected High Priestess Nyx as the leader of Luana’s temple, the two of them often disagreed in matters of theology and politics.
With Nyx having the ears of many councilmen, planting seeds of doubt, Eira was sure all eyes would be on her even more so during the ceremony and wedding celebrations. Regardless, whatever doubts Eira had about herself or this marriage, she couldn’t—and shouldn’t—let it interfere with ascending the throne someday. Her people needed to have complete confidence in her.
She may not have been ready to be married to Alvis, but her desire to be queen never faltered.
The remnants of an afternoon snack sat on the vanity next to the velvet box, and Eira took a piece of apple, popped it into her mouth, and gobbled it. When she opened the box to reveal a silver and blue diadem, the stardust sprinkled on the metal twisting around diamonds made it sparkle on its own without needing any light from the room. Eira lifted it out and perched it onto her long dark hair.
It was one of Cresin’s oldest antiques and had been worn by Luana’s Chosen for hundreds of years. Eira didn’t wear it often, but when she did, she found herself sitting straighter, with her shoulders back and head held high. When she wore it, she could imagine herself being a woman worthy to have it on her head and to live up to the legacy she’d been born into.
She could do this.
She had to do this.
People always said she looked like Queen Isadore—the first Chosen of Luana—and Luana herself. Not as though she ever had anything to compare herself to, other than paintings that followers of Goddess Efare created of what they supposed Luana and Isadore looked like. Legend said all of Luana’s Chosen through the generations looked like Luana, and all Eira’s life people claimed she had the closest likeness since Isadore, with pale—almost translucent—skin, blood-red lips, dark hair, and sky-blue eyes.
Each of the firstborn heiresses of the Cresin throne were the daughters and Chosen of Luana, as the firstborn heirs of Oxare are the sons and Chosen of Ray.
Rose grabbed her crutch and limped over to Eira. They stood side by side in front of the mirror, opposites at first glance, with Eira’s gentleness and Rose’s wild nature. On further inspection, the two sisters were perfect compliments to one another.
Rose groaned. “You’re not even dressed yet and you already look perfect. It’s not fair.”
“Perhaps it would help if you changed out of your training leathers.”
Rose had a unique and free beauty about her, but usually she was too busy beating the other members of the guard on the training grounds for many to notice.
Or at least, not for Rose to notice others noticing her.
Another knock came at the door. The familiar melodic voice of Priestess Cynth came from behind it.
“Your Highness? The opening ceremony is supposed to start soon. We need to prepare you.”
Eira’s heart sank. Once Priestess Cynth and the ladies-in-waiting came into her chamber, it would be nonstop preparations, celebrations, and being surrounded by people until she was at the altar and at Alvis’s side for their wedding at the end of the week. She’d have no peace. No personal space. No chance of stopping the wedding.
Outside her window, past the white rose tree which bloomed and grew up the wall no matter what the season, the songs of Luana’s priestesses floated in the air. Part of Eira wished to join them. They didn’t know how lucky they were. Free to worship, to make friends, and even to take whoever they wanted to bed whenever they liked.
She could do it. Be one of the priestesses. She’d been bestowed with the same powers, and studied Luana’s ways the way they had been—even more so as the Chosen. She’d trained and studied longer than most priestesses, and was given more power at her dedication ceremony as a young woman than the others. Traveling to all of Luana’s temples over the past year had shown her this, especially when she’d been in the oldest temple in the Paravian Mountains and her magic awoke there.
Cynth’s own mother, who was a priestess there, welcomed Eira with open arms, and when she’d left, promised there would always be a place for Eira.
The town was small, and the mountains dangerous, with strange winged creatures terrorizing them. But she’d still go back in a heartbeat.
And priestesses weren’t required to marry.
Eira turned and glanced at herself in the vanity mirror, with the stardust circled around her hair, looking like the midnight sky. She was a queen. Or at least, was going to be.
Queen. This was what she should be focused on. Becoming queen was what was important here.
“Are you all right?”
Her sister’s touch on her shoulder brought Eira back to reality.
She blinked and forced a bright smile. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Rose cocked her head, with a raised brow. “It’s a big week, and we’ve barely talked for months. It’s not an odd question.”
Priestess Cynth knocked again. “I’m sorry to disturb, Your Highness, but we do need to prepare. Sunset will not wait for us.”
No. It would not.
Luana bless it.
Eira took a couple deep breaths, touching her thumb to each of her fingertips to calm herself.
Her pulse slowed to normal, and her muscles relaxed.
“Yes, please come in.”
A flurry of women entered the chamber with dresses and cosmetics overflowing in their arms and excited chatter pouring out of their mouths like a waterfall, drowning out the priestess’s songs from outside. Lady Evony at the back of the group held glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. As the women went to work at removing Eira’s robe, Evony, court’s unofficial patron of festivities, passed out the glasses and poured the wine with extravagant flourishes and twirls, without spilling a single drop.
Whatever calmness had resided in Eira vanished. Her nerves fired off, her senses overloaded at the ruckus surrounding her. She barely registered the weight of the drink in her hand.
The ladies cheered when Evony raised a glass over her curly head of hair, and they all followed suit.
“To our royal highness, Princess Eira,” Evony said, “her betrothed Prince Alvis, and the coming of Luana’s season. Gods know all the fun happens in the night, after all.”
The stardust in the ceremony gown Priestess Cynth held glimmered in her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at Evony.
“I wasn’t aware you had the patience to wait for night for your type of fun,” Cynth said.
Rose chuckled when Evony placed a hand over her heart and dropped her jaw.
“It’s not my fault people beg for my company, no matter the time of day,” Evony said.
Rose cleared her throat. “Less drinking, more helping.” She stretched her permanently twisted ankle in front of Evony, and wiggled it in a circle. “I can never get my straps tight enough.”
Evony sighed before she finished off her wine, then set the glass on the table with a thud, and cocked her voluptuous hip.
“Out of all my talents,” she said, “this is the one I’m asked to do. Whoever said coming to Farren Castle was going to be glamorous, never mentioned this.”
“Yes, I’m sure the fish in Slania are much more glamorous,” Rose said.
“It took months to get the smell out of my clothes.” Evony took the straps from the pile of Rose’s ceremony clothes, and winked.
Within minutes, the white leather-like straps were wrapped around Rose’s ankle, straightening and smoothing the limb. It had been a gift from their grandmother, who served Kutlaous, the god of nature, in Eral Forest. The straps were enchanted with fae magic to give Rose the strength she needed to walk without a crutch for short periods. Such as evening ceremonies and balls.
Or as Rose preferred, on the training grounds and while patrolling the castle.
The white of the straps faded until they were invisible, showing off Rose’s tattoo, dedicated to Aros, the god of war and hunting. When unbound by the straps, the tattoo appeared to be thorny rose vines etched into Rose’s warped and twisted skin. When straightened by the straps, it was the sword of Aros, with white and red roses wrapped around the blade, like the roses outside each of their bedchamber windows, planted after their mother died. A symbol of Rose’s dedication not only to her god, but to their bond as sisters and princesses.
Something stirred inside Eira each time she saw it.
The time spent preparing went by in a blur of cloth and perfumes and stardust. The sparkling gown clung to Eira like a second skin once it was pulled over her head and down her body. The skirt swirled around her legs and ankles in a silver river. The neckline, like all of her ceremonial gowns, dipped low and wide to expose her tattoo. A symbol to be showed off and admired, proving she belonged to Luana. It was a fashion Eira had grown used to after she’d received her tattoo.
When she was younger and first growing into her body, she’d felt exposed and shy. Now she was proud to show her dedication to Luana and kingdom. She enjoyed the power mixed with sensuality in her costumes.
Where there wasn’t fabric, there were crystals and stardust stuck and painted to her arms, legs, and bosom. This day, it was a gown she could hide in. In this gown, she not only belonged to Luana, but was Luana. Goddess of the night, darkness, and winter. In this gown, she was supposed to welcome the changing of the seasons, where the daytime was shortened to make way for longer nights.
She was also supposed to greet her lover, Ray, god of the sun.
Eira could only imagine what Alvis’s ceremony attire would look like.
Perhaps Eira could at least pretend to be Luana if she was dressed for the part, and be separate from herself.
Time moved too quickly, and before she knew it she was being escorted by Priestess Cynth out of her bedchamber and toward the great hall. All the attendees were waiting for them there. Her father, stepmother, Alvis and his family, and all of the lords and ladies of the kingdom. Her kingdom. The one she’d spent months helping to regain their bearings after flash forest fires burned through the villages, leaving only ashes in their wake. The one she’d been born in, and who believed in her through every step of her life.
Until she’d started running away five years ago.
Now she returned, and people were talking. Eira’s cheeks burned as shame washed over her. She’d been foolish and immature all this time. So many others had it far worse than she did, and Alvis was a good man. One of the best she’d ever known. He was the perfect person to bring the kingdoms of Cresin and Oxare together the way Isadore and Sanson did all those centuries ago, when they were at war with one another.
Rose was at her side when they approached the great hall’s door, and squeezed Eira’s hand. She was out of her training leathers and wore a simple silver gown which resembled a long jacket with short sleeves. It was shorter in the front, revealing tight leggings, and billowed out in the back like a cloak. If it weren’t for Rose’s usual playful smile, she’d look regal.
“You’ll be wonderful,” Rose said.
She gave her sister a warm hug, then walked away and into the great hall, leaving Eira and Priestess Cynth alone. Eira pushed her shoulders back and straightened her diadem, despite that her heart sank as it begged her to turn and run.
No, it was time she behaved like the future queen and Chosen they all pictured her to be.
Don’t stop now. Keep reading with your copy of THE NIGHT’S CHOSEN, by City Owl Author, E. E. Hornburg.
And find more from Katherine Quinn at
katherinequinnauthor.weebly.com