The guards blocked their path at the foot of the stairway's broad lower tier. "State your business!" their sergeant challenged in a gravelly voice.
Amara drew herself up proudly. "I am Amara, daughter of Lord Xanthus, returned from long travels. I seek audience this day."
The grizzled sergeant's bushy brows shot up as he peered closer at her. A stir passed through his men. Then the sergeant clapped fist to breastplate with a rasp of mail. "Your words ring true though your face is changed, lady. I will send word." He gestured two soldiers aside and allowed Amara and Rhys to pass into the vast pillared portico fronting the palace.
They strolled beneath soaring vaulted ceilings vivid with scenes of Cerulean's storied legends, waiting in uneasy silence. Finally, ceremonial horns rang out. Liveried heralds appeared and beckoned them solemnly on through bright corridors to the audience chamber itself.
The cavernous throne room yawned before them, sunlight slanting down from clerestory windows high overhead to limn motes of dust like sparks in the air. Amara's slippered steps whispered on patterned tiles worn by generations before her as they slowly traversed the long crimson carpet path to the distant throne's dais.
There waited a tall, broad-shouldered man whose well-kept beard and ornate raiment could not wholly mask the stoop of advancing years. But Lord Xanthus's pale eyes beneath his circlet remained as keen and forceful as in Amara's memory. She approached until they stood but paces apart, her mouth dry as dust. A heavy silence thick as incense smoke lay over the chamber.
Finally Xanthus stirred, half rising from his gilt throne. "Daughter...you are returned to us, though much changed." His searching glance took in her sun-browned features and travel-worn garb. "I scarce credited the whispers this morn, yet here you stand bold as ever." Mixed emotions shaded his resonant voice.
Amara let out a shuddering breath she had not realized she was holding. When she found her voice at last it rang clear in the stillness. "Yes, father. I stand before you a different woman than the wilful child who left in shadow. But I am returned as was foretold."
Xanthus gripped the throne's arms as if to steady himself. "Foretold? Explain this riddle."
Haltingly at first but growing firmer, Amara recounted her fateful journey and bitter lessons learned. She omitted only the darker mystical details that might raise undue alarm, leaving the sack cradling the Skull discreetly aside for now. Her father listened brow furrowed, his reactions was unreadable.
When at last she concluded the long tale in a small wavering voice, Xanthus sank slowly back onto his throne. He passed one hand over his brow before looking up intently. "Dire is the path fate chose for you, Amara. But you have walked it with more courage than was granted your sire."
The admission seemed to pain him, but he waved off Amara's instinctive protest. "No, I was blinded by fear for your safety. It cost us much." He beckoned her forward and Amara approached shyly until they stood eye to eye. How stern and remote her mighty father had seemed from her tiny childhood height at his knee. But now she read the warmth beneath the cold marble.
Xanthus grasped her shoulders almost fiercely. "Can you forgive an old man's folly?" His eyes shone with suppressed emotion.
Amara blinked sudden tears. "There is nought to forgive, father." She hugged him impulsively. After a moment his strong arms enfolded her in return. The embrace said what words between them never could. Amara let long seasons of bitterness thaw in the warmth of rediscovered love. Some wounds hearts could mend after all.
At length they drew apart, clearing throats and dabbing eyes. But Amara glimpsed joy through sorrow in her father's face. "You have indeed grown wise, my girl. Cerulean will need that strength and courage soon."
Amara blinked, intrigued by his solemn tone. But further explanation was forestalled by lilting laughter as two figures emerged from behind the throne's carved hangings.
Amara froze. Striding forward was Lady Elissa, her own mother, still graceful despite streaks of silver in her flowing auburn tresses. Beside her moved a tall young man with Xanthus's strong brow and Amara's piercing gaze. Her lost brother Velkan, fully grown now into his warrior's bearing. Overwhelming joy pierced Amara.
"Mother!" she cried, rushing forward into Elissa's eager embrace. "Brother, you're restored to me!" She hugged the bashful Velkan, laughing at the changes years had wrought. The Fates were just. Her family was made whole past hope's horizons. Whatever darkness still loomed, in this moment she felt only radiance.
The impromptu reunion became a feast arrayed on the terrace overlooking Cerulean's sweeping azure bay. Amara basked in affection too long missed, forgetting larger worries for a span. But joy could not erase all cares. As twilight crept over the distant whitecaps, talk turned to ominous tidings. A shadow remained over the city still.
Xanthus waited until the servants withdrew before unrolling a map across the inlaid stone table. He beckoned his reunited family close, face grave in the lamplight. "Our kingdom has slowly unravelled since you were lost to us, Amara. I thought all was ashes until this dawn."
Elissa touched his wrist comfortingly. "Yet now the phoenix rises renewed, beloved. Brighter days will come." Her tone held utter conviction. Xanthus' visage became less bleak.
"Just so." He traced fingers over the unrolled parchment. "See here—Cerulean controls but half the isles we once held sway upon, and our outposts dwindle by season. My authority fails."
Amara peered closely, trying to make sense of the delicate lines and shaded symbols. Most of the Ten Isles' reaches remained only legends to her still. "Surely our walls yet stand strong," she offered hopefully.
But Velkan shook his dark head. "Not just foes without, sister. The great families scheme while peasants fear uprising. Faith in the law wanes." His mouth was grim for one so young.
Xanthus grunted assent. "Chaos reigns while these old bones grow feebler. But now that my capable heirs have returned together, our fortunes may turn." He gave Amara an assessing look. "If you truly bear newfound wisdom from your trials..."
Amara straightened, understanding the unspoken request. Her family needed someone to unite the fraught kingdom and light their way out of darkness. The role of saviour sat uneasily upon her shoulders, yet she felt destiny's weight settling into place. All roads had led back to this crux and duty.
She turned slightly to study Rhys where he stood quiet in the tableau's shadow. The rogue gave her a slight nod. Their private quest could wait a while longer. These people had first claim upon her knowledge and powers if used justly. And perhaps healing still wider rifts would show the way for them both. She nodded silently back to him before facing her father.
"On my life, I swear to aid Cerulean however I may." Her clear voice rang with conviction in the cool evening air. Velkan clapped her shoulder and proud tears shone in Elissa's eyes.
Xanthus grasped Amara's hands in his work-roughened grip. "Bless you, daughter. With our house united, we shall see our kingdom strong and just once more." He regarded each of them solemnly in turn. "A struggle remains ahead of us all. But we do not walk its roads alone."
One by one each echoed that vow until the stones themselves seemed to resonate with promise. Tomorrow the real work would begin. But tonight belonged to rekindled hopes.
The family parted reluctantly to seek their beds. Amara bid them all fond rest, lingering lastly with Rhys in a pool of lamplight amidst the tower's soaring colonnade. He studied her closely. "You mean to stay and heal their wounds."
Amara clasped the hands that had anchored her through so many storms. "I must try, Rhys. Or more will suffer needlessly." Her eyes pleaded for understanding.
Rhys glanced away with the discomfort he always showed when emotions ran plain. But his hands tightened on hers. "You've chosen a good path, though not an easy one. I only hope it leads you to peace."
Amara sensed the unspoken words—that their twined destiny might demand sacrifices or hard choices she could not yet grasp. But she was no longer a maiden requiring shelter from harsh truths. Life taught daily that fates interwoven could fray in hard use. Still, she prayed their shared ordeals had forged something to endure.
On impulse, she rose slightly to press her lips to the weathered brow of this man who had been enemy, then mentor, now something undefinable but essential as breath. Their boundaries stood blurred, their future uncharted. But in this endless moment he was anchor, mirror, and compass both. A fixed point to return to when her duties tossed her on demanding seas. No map could chart insights pulsing wordlessly in her blood.
"I must rest." Amara turned slowly from his embrace. "Keep faith, my friend." He said nothing, but his lone eye spoke for him. They would take comfort where they could find it in the trials to come. She left him standing amidst the flickering lamps, her silent sentinel through the lonely watches of the night.