Four Months Later

The colors stole my breath.

Green leaves fluttered, violet and orange wildflowers swayed, and birds swooped across the sapphire sky. Morning dew glistened on a row of statues, silver Acrador, copper Valavira, gold Rashika, and more. Onlookers packed the benches and spilled out to form a semi-circle around the field, dressed in jewel-toned gowns and vests. Skin as light as Pim's and as dark as mine, faces smooth and furry, hair and eyes of every color.

Despite the packed field, one bench near the front sat empty — reserved for the spirits of loved ones lost.

A foot imprinted the damp soil near me, and I glanced up at Zander. He quirked an eyebrow and propped his fist on his hip.

"What's this? You've forgotten how to light a fire, is it?" He swung out his stump arm to indicate the tinder and stones before me. "Daresay we shouldn't keep Izra waiting forever."

The mention of her imminent arrival kicked up an almost obscene flurry of excitement and nerves. Brightness swelled in my chest, and sweat dampened my palms. I breathed a chuckle at my own reaction. Back in the palace, surrounded by the toxic mix of fake care and blatant disregard, I never believed in such a feeling.

But I also never believed I would marry Izra.

I crouched beside the dugout and fumbled with the flint and steel. Silky fabric pooled on the ground, and the belled sleeves of my dress fluttered around my wrists, soft coral against rich ebony.

With a tuck and a hiss, a spark jumped from the rocks to the tinder. The strands curled in on themselves and brightened to an orange glow. Zander asked me to repeat some words. As my lips moved to comply, my gaze trailed over the crowd.

"May the gods bless this union."

"May the gods bless this union."

Plu's glazed blue eyes crinkled with her smile. Her right hand squeezed Ru's shoulder while her left linked a single pinky with Navi's.

"May our love flow as deep as the Paksha Sea."

"May our love flow as deep as the Paksha Sea."

Jek's broad arm slumped almost casually across Janafir's back, belying the support I knew he was providing for Janafir to remain upright.

"May we honor the Goddess in deeds more than words."

"May we honor the Goddess in deeds more than words."

Rona's head rested on her aunt's shoulder, and her feet swung back and forth, skimming the grass below the bench.

"And may we remember to visit Zander."

"And may we — wait, what?"

He cracked a broad smile and tipped his head with his shrug. "Just making sure you were paying attention."

But at the moment, any small amount of attention I still possessed dissipated.

Izra had entered.

A sleek black gown hugged her slim waist and flowed down to trail behind her as she sauntered toward me. The fabric slit up to her thigh, revealing a tantalizing stretch of smooth, tan skin with each step. A fresh short haircut framed her chin in the front and climbed to a neat bob above the nape of her head.

A perfect image of grace — if not for the helpless, crooked-tooth smile.

The colors surrounding us blurred to a hazy glow, swept aside by the powerful presence of the woman before me. Black hair, black eyes, black dress. My favorite color.

Zander coughed, and Izra and I ripped our eyes from each other to face him. He presented us each with a small woven basket brimming with plump dates.

"Honor the gods," he said.

I had never seen this wedding tradition before, but I followed Izra to the row of statues. We knelt side-by-side in front of the first statue, a glittering bronze god with a snake tail. She clasped her hands together and bowed her head.

Laying a date at his feet, she murmured, "For Lord Baraku."

I followed suit, bowing to the god and offering a date. But as we shifted to the copper Valavira statue, a sound froze us in place. From somewhere near the middle of the benches, an old woman hummed a familiar tune — the hymn of the Lesser Gods. Her voice wobbled and creaked, yet the sound filled the field.

Another voice joined, and another. The voices became too many to count and broke into harmony, a descant weaving over the melody and a bassline grounding the impromptu choir. The union of voices transformed the tune from melancholy to triumphant.

Goosebumps rose on my flesh. I glanced at Izra, who appeared equally stricken.

"I didn't realize this song had harmony," I whispered.

She smiled, but her voice came out thick — swollen. "Neither did I. But I've also never heard people sing it together."

With a shaky exhale, she lowered herself before Valavira. To the gentle tune of a hundred humming voices, we slipped between the remaining gods and presented each one with a date.

When we stood and brushed the dirt from our dresses, Zander nodded at the empty bench in the front row.

"Honor the spirits."

Izra and I knelt before the bench, and I pressed my palms together and touched my fingers to my forehead.

"For my mother and Romalda. For Darling and Honey. For Pim."

Beside me, Izra's mouth did not move, but the sheen in her eyes and tick of her jaw told me which name stirred her heart.

We left a handful of dates beside the bench, leaving just one in each of our baskets for the final portion of the ritual. Zander hobbled toward us and leaned down to bat the dirt off Izra's dress and then mine. As he straightened, the hummed chorus trailed off to a few voices and then faded to silence. Zander's lips pressed together and eyes filled with tears.

"And most importantly..." He jabbed a finger in the air. "Always honor each other."

Izra and I swiveled to face each other. Seeing the radiance in her smile, my heart skipped a beat and my throat dried. I opened my mouth to ask which of us should go first. Before I could speak, she popped the date in my mouth.

I emitted a garbled protest at the unexpected invasion. Izra lifted a hand to hide her giggle. I drew her hand away from her mouth and slipped the date through her lips.

We struggled to chew past our smiles. Sweet decadence coated my tongue.

Zander's voice croaked: "Alright, join hands."

I flipped a palm toward Izra, and her fingers fluttered over my skin before slotting through my own.

Zander clasped his hand over ours and raised them above our heads. "You are now bonded in love."

Applause spilled over the crowd, crescendoing from a pattering rain to a rolling thunder. I smiled out at the rows and rows of beaming faces, but an ache tugged at my heart and weighted my smile. Lesser God worshippers no longer feared for their safety, but the appeased masses had abandoned the plight of those unhelped. The troops had withdrawn, but the war was not over.

King Taroom still had not improved conditions for the slaves in Kulas and Kalasiki.

Makandi and Paranila had each taken a Claimed.

And the Resistance withered.

Zander released our hands, and the crowd formed a line before us, weaving back through the benches. As we shook hands, thanked, and hugged a never-ending line of smiling well-wishers, I forced aside the well of sadness.

One day, a champion would arise to finish what Rashika's Resistance had started. Until then, I would focus on my wife and our new potato farm.

And anyway, what was more important than feeding the hungry?

Narik's parents each hugged Izra and shook my hand. A boy with a great shock of white-blonde hair clasped his father's coat sleeve, round eyes fixed on Izra. When Izra fluttered her fingers at him, his cheeks pinkened, and he hid his grin in his father's trousers.

The moment Narik's family stepped aside, a tiny body crashed into me, head knocking my abdomen hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs. Joy burst bright in my chest. I tucked a bronze curl behind her ear and hugged her close.

"I'm so glad you could come, Rona." I lifted my gaze to Rolina, who watched with a smile. "Thank you for bringing her."

Rolina chuckled. "How could I refuse? She's been talking about this non-stop for weeks. Telling everyone she was going to see the wedding of the fiercest warriors in Najila."

Rona stepped back and fingered the silky pink fabric of my sleeve. "I thought you were a warrior, but you look more like a princess."

Izra replied before I could, voice certain: "She's both."

Rona scrunched her eyebrows, fluffing the fur between. "Pim told me stories about warriors rescuing princesses. Does that mean you rescued yourself?"

I blinked at her. Slowly nodded. "I suppose you could be right."

Music began. A lilting flute pranced over the twangy strum of strings. Benches pushed back to circle the field, leaving open grass at the center.

Zander bucked through the crowd with twitching hips, hollering, "Time to dance!"

With a roar of approval, the rest of the line dissolved to flood the makeshift dance floor. At one edge of the group, Plu and Navi held hands and shuffled back and forth. On the other side, Janafir watched from a bench as Jek danced in front of him, gyrating his hips and shimmying his shoulders without taking his eyes from Janafir's.

Rona snatched Narik's hand and pulled him into the fray. They ran in a circle, spinning each other around until one fell. Peals of delighted laughter interjected the jaunty music.

A hand closed over my own and squeezed. I glanced left to see Izra's eyes on me. A breeze rippled through her hair, and a few glossy strands fluttered over her face.

"We should have practiced dancing," she said.

I laid my free hand on her waist. "We can practice right now."

She slid her hand up to my shoulder, and we swayed. I was not certain we were moving to the music, but I couldn't find it in me to care. I was moving to Izra, and she was moving to me.

Our bodies drew closer until her breasts brushed against me and her breath warmed my face. Then her lips met mine, soft and slow, patient. Savoring.

A cheer rose up from the crowd, punctuated by a few whistles, but my focus remained on Izra. She withdrew with a satisfied sigh and gazed at me, eyes full of wonder. Like she held the most precious thing in the world.

I knew the saga had not ended. Slaves still served cruel masters, and Rakim still suppressed the rights of its people. But right then, I imagined the beauty and warmth overflowing my chest could cover all of Najila with no end.

Happy forever more.