My village sprawled out across the land below me, reaching much further than in the days when I first arrived after fleeing the Sacred School. This place had grown with me and our kingdom, not only from the new homes and buildings, but the people who flocked here to help rule our valley. We'd built all of this, my people and me. Built it from the grounded up together and watched it grow with each year. I never thought I could feel comfortable standing atop of a tower assembled for me to rule from, but despite that I once ran from this responsibility, this tower now felt like home. Like family.

Frigid wind bit my cheeks and the tips of my fingers, the only parts of my body left exposed as the light of summer gave way to a quickly approaching winter. In Skia Hellig, the frigid temperatures needed little time to overcome our lands. Darkness consumed more of our sunlight with each passing day. Soon we'd only have a few hours of full sunlight every day.

I slid my left foot along the rock wall and opened my stance, focusing my power on the very tip of my sword. Another gust of wind might have hurled me from the tower if not for how I anchored my body with my power. The pain prickling my cheeks kept me focused as I stared at the blue bead of energy steadily growing smaller. While it looked like such a tiny amount of power, the dense energy could reduce the tower I stood upon to a pile of dust if I released it.

Nash drifted from the wall and floated directly in front of the bead of energy, so close that if I flinched, it might hit him. The fear of unleashing it upon him flashed down my spine and the energy dissipated as I recoiled.

"I told you before not to do that," I said.

He lifted my sword so it was level with his heart. "Do it again." He wore his dark beard a little longer this time of year and his hood hid his curls from view. It made the golden hue of his eyes pop. "You're too afraid of your power still. Trust yourself. What good is pushing your limits if you're not confident?"

"What if the wind gusts again?"

Rather than speak, he merely held my gaze, silently challenging me.

I clenched my teeth and focused on forming the dense ball of energy again, only this time it wasn't even a fraction as powerful as before.

Nash shrugged. "We'll work on it."

"I don't want to work on it."

"Well, that's the problem with peace, isn't it? You don't have enough enemies to test this out on. These are the stakes you need."

I shook my head. "The stakes of accidentally mauling my husband if I so much as sneeze?"

"Yeah. Those stakes."

I rolled my eyes and dropped my sword to my side. He eased back onto the tower with me, his side brushing mine. "Have faith, Sharpshooter."

Nash slid his arm around my waist and drew me back against him. He lifted us from the tower so we floated in the air, and my stomach fluttered at the pull of gravity insisted on dragging me back to the ground. But he held me steady in the gusting wind as we hovered over the village. It wasn't quite right to call it that anymore, truth be told. This was a city now, the jewel of a young and thriving kingdom. In my mind, though, I could never let go of the quaint image of the place I'd called home for so long.

"Are you going to try out your new move at the competition?" Nash's breath warmed my temple.

"Great idea. I can accidentally kill our most promising warriors."

The buildings and homes grew in size as he lowered us toward the ground. Crowds already gathered at the center of town where we rearranged our community area into the main arena for our annual competition. Markus endlessly mocked the idea of hosting any kind of combat in the center of town rather than in the fields surrounding us, but no one wanted to miss a moment of the action. It made no sense to force the children and elderly into traveling outside of town or to erect new areas for cooking and serving food. If our people loved anything as much as fighting, it was eating and drinking. The community area provided us with everything we needed. We could handle fixing any damages we caused.

Markus had also questioned Nash when he originally pushed for a yearly competition back in the first days of the kingdom. My advisor had balked and said we literally had thousands of more important decisions to make. But Nash understood people. That made him a great spy back when the Eskel the Ruthless forced him into service and it made him a great war chief now. People needed community, even warriors. No, especially, warriors. And so this competition came into being the very same year our kingdom had eight long years ago.

I looked forward to it every year.

More than providing our people with community, tradition, and entertainment, the sparring matches challenged our warriors and allowed us to watch for promising young fighters.

Heads lifted in our direction as we neared the ground. Nash's longer legs dangled below mine until his feet touched down on the stone tiles of the makeshift arena. Mine settled right after him, and his palm smoothed over my stomach briefly before he released me. With all our responsibilities, some days we only managed these stolen touches and glances, so we savored each. The eyes of the kingdom never strayed from us, not for a moment, but we learned how to be alone in the midst of a crowd, even if only for fleeting moments during busy weeks like this.

"Prophet–"

"War Chief–"

No less than a dozen people barked our names at once as everyone crowded us, two advisors tugging us in opposite directions. I glanced back at Nash over my shoulder, catching his eyes as well. The familiar quirk of his smile filled me with warmth. We both loved the festival and I knew what he was thinking. Nash couldn't wait until it was our turn in the arena.

"We're running out of lodging," one of Markus's assistants spoke above another who tried to direct my attention elsewhere. "Can we use rooms in the tower for–"

"You know I don't care about that," I said with a sigh.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The advisor who ushered me away nodded subtly toward an elderly woman seated in the front row of the wooden seating erected for the festival. "The grandmother of the chief from the village–"

I waved my hand. "I know." Then, smiling wide, I took both her hands as I sat. "Elara. I didn't believe you last year when you told me you'd travel all this way."

Weathered fingers gripped me. "You must be busy. You don't have to sit with me."

"They can wait a few minutes." I glanced at the small crowd waiting on me and they all shuffled back several steps, averting their eyes.

"Do you ever get time alone?" she asked.

"Only when I hide out on the roof."

She laughed loudly and patted my hand, surely thinking I was joking. Her expression quickly straightened, though, and emotion filled her voice. "I'm just happy I lived to see days like this. I never could have dreamed of this kind of peace."

Her words tightened my chest, because the threat of war never receded far from our kingdom, and any peace felt only like a rest between battles. "I just want to hold onto it."

"Oh, dear." Sympathy filled her eyes. "Let go of your worries. Some peace runs so deep it remains even in the midst of war. You've done well, child. We're ready for our next dark season, whenever it may come. No one can stop the cycle of war and peace, not even the Prophet Eclipse."

I nodded, but it didn't loosen my muscles. "I'll trust you on that."

After I became the new Prophet of the Valley, we quickly dealt with all our threats. The year of turmoil without a leader fueled the people's desperation for unity. The valley-dwellers had been hungry for power of their own and fought tirelessly to protect our piece of the world. The coalition we amassed to take on Lote and the threat from Elias's world provided us with all the might we needed to force out all those trying to cause chaos in our land.

Not that the years since only offered us peace. That couldn't be further from the truth. The Flatlanders never surrendered in their battle to reclaim the villages Eskel the Ruthless once stole, but those people wanted to remain in our kingdom. We defended them against the Flatlanders in two separate short wars. Plenty of danger still threatened the Valley, but it felt like peace to me after all I'd faced in my life.

I knew, though, that while we'd secured our piece of Skia Hellig, our region was not yet stable. What came next? That question stirred fear within me. Any conflict, no matter how minor, could plunge us into war.

I started to say something else to the elderly woman when her attention shifted toward the arena and her eyes lit. I heard the yell only a moment later.

"Finally!" Elsie ran toward me in a full sprint. Sunlight glinted off the silver band holding back dozens of tight braids from her face. I missed when she wore her curls loose and full, but our little warrior would never allow anything to hinder her in a fight. Rightly so. I'd never allowed my hair to get in the way either.

She bounded over a bench and skidded to a stop right in front of me. Her brand new armor matched the style of young warriors training for battle and it made her look too grown up.

"What took so long?" She asked with her fists on her hips. Then, seeming to remember her manners, she turned toward the woman beside me and dipped her head. "Oh, hello, dear elder."

I let out a heavy sigh. Elsie had offered just enough of a welcome to skirt around being chastised, or so she likely thought. "Introduce yourself properly."

Though the girl smiled politely, I recognized the annoyance in her golden brown eyes. "I'm Elsie, a junior warrior-in-training."

Warriors-in-training most certainly existed, but not any junior ones. Elsie made that title up for herself because at thirteen, she did not yet qualify for any official training position. I struggled to hold back my smirk.

Elara raised her brows. "Daughter of the great Prophet Eclipse and the fearless War Chief Nash," the woman corrected with an amused smile.

"That and…" Elsie sucked in a deep breath. "Future undefeated War Chief Elsie."

"What a formiddle young lady you are. I'm Elara, the mother of Chief Frode, and the grandmother of a young man you may remember. A young warrior in-training named Axel."

Elsie's stare burned at the name. Her shoulders straightened. "Yes, I remember Axel."

"He's competing today," Elara said.

No one needed to tell Elsie that. After the young man two years older than her defeated her in the twin sword competition, she'd talked about little else for weeks afterward. Elsie prided herself as the greatest adolescent twin-sword wielder, though such a thing didn't exist before tales of Nash spread over the valley. "I'm sorry you'll have to witness your grandson's defeat," Elsie said.

Elara chuckled lightly. "You should never apologize for your victories. You'll only encourage him to train more."

The girl smiled at this and lowered her head with much more deference this time. "Thank you for your wisdom."

"Now, run off and play," I said.

"You mean train." Elsie's eyes narrowed.

"Sure."

She groaned at my jesting, but she still looped her arms around my neck before leaving and whispered in my ear. "You better beat Daddy in the first match this year. His ego is getting too big."

I squeezed her arm and kissed her cheek. "You know I will, baby girl. Now go find him and tell him you want me to win."

She grinned and ran off with her twin blades bouncing lightly at her sides.

"I believe I was promised that I could meet someone else too," Elara said.

I looked up at those waiting for me, gauging how antsy they looked to guess at how much more time I could spare before one of the advisors complained. "Will you get him?" I asked one of the men, butterflies filling my belly as they always did when we reunited, no matter how long or short our time of separation might have been.

One of the young men ran off quickly. I didn't have to wait long before I spotted Nash cutting through the crowd. My legs moved on instinct, drawing me closer.

Elsie strode beside him with both hands resting on her swords, but the gleeful smile undercut the tough demeanor she wanted to put on.

I should have known. Despite only arriving at the festival a short while before, Nash already beat me to it. His large hands lovingly cupped the small bundle against his chest, the white straps of the carrier tight against his leather armor.

I ran the last few steps until I saw his face. "There you are," I said softly.

A small pudgy hand reached into the air at the sound of my voice. Honey eyes opened sleepily, searching for me. The baby stirred until his gaze found mine and then the bright, toothless smile spread over his chunky cheeks.

He saw me. For right now, for this short time in his life, we were his world. Nash, Elsie, and me.

The pure rush of joy that captured his little body at seeing me made me feel like my heart might stop beating. I needed to hold him and never let go. I needed it like my lungs needed air.

"Hi," I whispered and slid my finger into my son's hand. Nash smoothed his hand over my hip, holding me close while we both looked at our baby. He had his father's eyes, just like Elsie.

All this happiness inevitably ushered in that twinge of fear that I'd lose it all, but the warmth filling me, the overwhelming joy and awe pounding in my chest flooded me so much that the anxiety couldn't dim the happiness. Not right now.

I didn't know how Elara could be right about a peace so steadfast that not even war could break it, but this moment made me see how it could possibly be true.

But wasn't this peace also as fragile as the four month old infant nestled against my husband's chest?

We were so powerful and so fragile. So fully both at the same time.