Epilogue: Niala

“I didn’t mean to cause problems,” I said, drawing into myself as I sat in an office that smelled of polished wood. Kiel sprawled over a rather large chaise lounge, eyes never leaving me.

“Don’t worry yourself, cousin,” Kiel said, turning his hand over and staring at it. His eyes seemed darker from this angle, the teal of them obscured. Kael flicked his eyes towards Kiel and leaned over his desk, elbows planting over an expansive highly-polished solid desk.

Kael buried his face in his hands.

“N- I…” Kael had started to say things so many times to me but stared more at papers over his desk. The wood paneling of the walls, interrupted by inset bookshelves, muffled his sharp breaths, dampening the sound as it carried up towards a vaulted ceiling.

My feet dangled off the edge of the chair I sat in, a backless seat with soft arms that felt like it might swallow me in its dark wood and slick burgundy velvet.

“Altatta,” Kiel announced, drawing Kael’s eyes as he sighed, almost bored. “Find something else to call her before you give yourself a mood. Syrentonshuel, maybe?”

“Syrenshuva,” Kael corrected, sighing in relief.

“Syrentonshuel?” Syrenshuva?” I asked, repeating myself, always asking what words meant.

I shifted in my seat at an angle to look between Kael and Kiel against the right wall next to me.

“Woodpecker and mockingbird,” Kael explained to me in heavily-accented English.

“Creator’s feathers. I’m not a chata woodpecker!” I seethed.

“No, you are my mockingbird. Syrsmujie over there needs to keep his mouth shut,” Kael glared over at him, and Kiel huffed in response.

“Little hawk,” Kael said over to me before I could even ask.

“If you’re going to have an attitude, go send for the starling and your father. They shouldn’t have too much to do with their crowns today,” Kael waved his hand off as Kiel drug himself to his feet and waltzed out, swishing his tail along the expensive rug-covered wood floor. His tail snapped right before he shut the door.

“He does it too?” I faced Kael once more as he moved over to take Kiel’s spot on the lounge.

“You’re Seraph. It’s a reflex when you’re irritated,” Kael shrugged, delight dancing in his eyes.

“Seraph… because I have the tail?”

“Yep, a descendant of a seraphim—royal blood. The Anael, Us, and the Phoenix have Seraph royalty, with tails. Your father, Sael, had one. My father had one. I have one. Kiel’s mother and father have one,” he rattled off, rolling his hand about in the air.

I’m part seraphim.

“Kiel is a seraph, too?” I asked, but Kael shook his head. I didn’t know how to politely ask, ‘What the fuck is he?’

“Seraphim. He’s got Seraph royal blood from the Phoenix, Acerrai, and Anael. I tell you, it’s created a major problem with three thrones and only one heir, and half of them think he’s going to be as evil as Vrahiel,” Kael sighed heavily.

“Vrahiel?”

“The black seraphim? Our ancestor?”

My stomach twisted as I turned my head away. I felt really sorry for Kiel.

“Your namesake was my bondmate, and she, too, was a Seraph. So Kiel is spoiled for blood, an only child.” Kael waved his hand dismissively, muttering, “Though that could change at any given moment.”

I stayed quiet, just letting my grandfather talk. I learned so much by just letting him speak.

“Anyway. Seraph girl, princess, granddaughter, little mockingbird,” he said, a bemused smile crossing his thin lips as he purposefully danced around my name.

“Your chosen, tell me of him! We’ll have to tread carefully. They’re already bondmate hunting for Kiel, and they’re not picky on blood.” He gave me a pointed look, and my upper lip curled.

“Who? Pushing me to him!? HE’S MY COUSIN!” I shuddered.

“The council tried bonding me to my sister so many years ago.” His eyes went dark, and a flick of flame went up his arms with threatening curls full of all the rending promise that my own could be.

“I love Gaff way too much to even think of that,” I said, and his face soured.

“I hesitate to ask, but please explain yourself in a manner that your altatta may not find so offensive,” He bristled.

“Gaffriel…my chosen…oh.” I froze and bit my lip, giving him a sheepish look, “It…it’s his name. Means something differe—” I started, but he exhaled a sharp and wavering breath.

“A name like that is… WHO GIVES SUCH A NAME TO A CHILD!?” Kael spat, tugging at his hair. “I forbid this! I have only known you a short while, and I will lay my life down to protect you from this… this…STORM CHILD,” acid words staining his tongue. He spat after saying it.

“Yarriel…” I repeated, ‘storm child.’

Gaffriel will certainly not like that nickname.

“He must earn a name as filthy as that!” Kael grumbled, and I choked.

“NOT ANYTIME SOON!” I shouted, and he gave me a strange look.

“You are worse than Enai, really, yes?” Kael shook his head in exasperation. “Always with the krissina and jokes.”

“Krissina?”

“Sex.” He clarified for me, and my cheeks went bright pink.

“Oh, for feather’s sake. Revik’s been giving you ammesta?” He rubbed over his face.

“Ammesta?”

“The thrin…ass-flavored drink that makes this…whatever this is…stop.” Kael gestured towards his face, then pointed at me, and it only made my blush more fierce. But, of course, I wasn’t going to question how he knew what ass tasted like.

Kiel returned, eyes cast down and drawn into himself. “Altatta.” His voice came in a whisper.

“Hmm?” Kael looked up and over at him, and Kiel fidgeted before looking up, shivering a little.

“Oh…” Kael stood and walked over to him, grabbing his shoulders. “Just take a few calm breaths. What triggered you?”

I caught a glimpse of his eyes, and they were black as night like mine went.

“Her,” He nudged his head in my direction. I got the feeling his eyes were trained on me, but with no pupils visible, I couldn’t tell.

“Ahh. Are you mad about it?” Kael spoke so sweetly, petting over Kiel’s shoulders as he gestured for me to stay.

Kiel shook his head. “Excited.”

He held his hand out before him and let a whisper of black flame crawl over his palm and swim over his hand, far more controlled than even I could manage. Kael pulled a tassel on hanging curtains towards the back wall of his office, revealing accordion-style glass doors that folded open to a luxurious balcony, all dark stone, and short railings that stretched across the rear face of the building to catch the eastern sky.

I craned my head to guiltily look out at the two. Kael hugged Kiel tight, and the boy seemed to be crying.

He patted over Kiel’s back for a minute and sent him out to sit over on a stone pedestal near the banister and calm down.

With a loping step, Kael returned to me and gave me a crooked smile.

“He just got his fires, and it’s scaring him. You know how it was for the first few months,” He told me, and I stared down at my hands.

“I’ve had mine for less than two weeks,” I said, and Kael sighed, shaking his head.

“Good, you two can learn together.” He collapsed back onto the lounge and sighed, “Today’s been an emotionally exhausting day, but you’re here now, and we’re getting you a room ready.”

“A room? I’m going back home….” An alarm rose in my throat.

“That remains to be seen, little mockingbird.” Kael looked sad but understanding.

“I have to get back to my family… I’m not crown material and… I want my ada and my family and….” I scrambled to stand, my ikris twitching sharply as my tail made a sharp snap as Kiel’s had done earlier.

“We’ll see how you do with our healers. You’re mana starved—weak. Talk to Kiel’s mother, our starling; it’s not something you fix in a day,” Kael folded his hands. “And it’s not being chosen that’s the worst of it for you.”

I curled my arms around my chest as my tail snapped again. I wanted to go home. This place was the home I’d searched for, but it wasn’t the Wildlings. This wasn’t my real home.

“And yet you still managed to put him to the ground!” Kael laughed, his blue eyes the same as mine and his scent like home… a home that I wanted to know.

“Pidgeon,” I said, muttering in soft shock. I couldn’t focus. Thoughts of abandonment, never seeing Kiromir again, Gaff again…

“What did you mean by calling him a… taaga…pigeon, yes?” Kael asked.

“It’s a game the wildlings play when we’re sparring. It’s how we forfeit.”

We. I spoke as if I was Wildling.

Kael sighed heavily. “Little mockingbird, you have a long way to go before I even think of letting you out of my sight.”

During my panic, the door to the office swung open as a massive man with blue eyes like my own, raven hair, and softer eyes stepped in, followed by a woman that stood closer to Prim in size than anyone I’d seen so far. Even slouching, I was taller than her, and people kept calling me miniature.

“Oh,” she said, focusing Wildling green eyes like those of healers on me. “You and I need to talk.”

She pointed at me, and Kael looked over at her pleadingly.

“Starling?” I asked, and the corner of her soft pink lips turned into a wry smile.

“Queen Seneya Lightwing,” She told me, bowing her head, and I instinctively looked down and saw a sweeping tail twitching at the ground with a graceful sway, as grey as any wildling’s wing.

“And the giant is King Briel Lightwing. They’re currently sitting the Anael throne,” Kael gestured, and I still hadn’t gotten the concepts of all the kingdoms that existed beyond the Wildlings yet.

I walked closer to the woman, and she caught me by my elbow to escort me away from Briel and Kael. I felt so helpless as she dragged me away, but she exuded comfort and smelled like rich roses.

“You’ve met my son, I take it.”

“Yeah, but… St-Que—uh—Lightwi—”

“You may call me Seneya.” She spoke quietly to me in perfect English. “I’m not one for ostentation or titles.”

“Oh, thank the creator. I can hardly keep up.” I sighed as a certain kind of comfort came over me.

“Wait, you know Kiel just got his fires, right?” I turned and looked back towards the room, but she just pulled on my elbow again. Then, something bumped against my leg, and as I glanced down, I saw the longest braid I’d ever seen before hanging loosely down her back over very Wildling-looking ikris. I hadn’t seen many to compare them to, though. Her hair reminded me of Gaffriel’s, that same ruddy coppery red, and it sent a lonely pang through me as I thought about not seeing him for a while.

“And he’ll still have them when I’m done talking to you. Kiel needs to learn a little independence. He can be a little attached to me,” She said, chuckling.

Her laughter sounded musical as we stepped down a dark hallway, passing guttering mana lights that dimmed as I walked by and flared as she did. It felt like we were extreme opposites on some instinctual level, and I followed her eyes from one torch to the next.

“Oh. I feel bad now. I don’t want to take this moment from him,” Seneya waved her hand dismissively, and I froze before she tugged my arm again, taking me down another hallway, towards a stretch of paintings. An empty frame sat at the end, a portrait to the right of a stoic and fierce Kael. She smiled at his painting and then frowned at the empty frame.

“Kiel’s painting is going to go here, isn’t it?”

She nodded, but I knew another painting should have been there. So we walked down the hall, looking at one stern-faced man after another, raven of hair, blue of eye, and all of them possessing a note of madness in them. All until we reached the end of the long stone-floored hall, where a single tapestry hung limply, centered by two guttering torches. It looked similar to the woodcut in the wildling books, the black seraphim, the void, pressing his hand to the white seraphim, the melody.

I stood in the image of the black seraphim, hand aloft and full of flame. She stood before the white, its flame pressing back. I didn’t like the image because the white Seraphim was claimed by the warlord. It always made me sad to see this.

The mana torch on my side guttered, darkening like it fed off my fires, while Seneya’s flickered brightly, humming almost.

Seneya pressed her hand to the white silhouette of the seraphim and sighed.

“She’s beautiful,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“You made this?” I asked, startled. It seemed like too old of a thing to have been made by her.

She shook her head and laughed, “Hah! No, this is me—my soul, at least.”

Her green eyes cast over towards the black seraphim’s silhouette. The sadness in her eyes returned as her hand slid over the ancient woven threads.

“Y-you’re the melody? The shine? The white seraphim!?” I coughed a laugh.

“Yes. And I knew your father well….” She averted her eyes and closed them.

“Why was my father’s painting removed?” I asked, stepping back from her as she opened her eyes and canted her head towards me, confused.

“Sael’s painting.” I clarified.

Seneya looked down over her hands for a minute, then back up to me.

She scrutinized me for a lingering moment, then pointed a finger at the other figure in the painting, the black of his form stark and shocking. “Sael was not your father. You were born of the void, a child of the cadence. The black seraphim sired you, Niala. Best you never forget that.”