Chapter 52

Alora laughs. “What did Mother tell you about my life? Did she recount any stories of my youth?”

I shrug. “Not really.” I wrack my memory and come up with just a few facts. I know Alora was born in 1706 and that she was Heir for more than a hundred years, until Inara’s birth in 1820. Mom hadn’t said much else, not that I could recall. Just a few small things here and there: Alora loves Chinese food. Alora moves with grace. Alora detests rudeness.

But no anecdotes or stories about her early years.

“I wasn’t an exemplary Heir, so I shouldn’t be surprised she didn’t share. Actually, maybe I should be grateful.”

“But it still hurts your feelings?” I guess.

“Not anymore. I passed beyond getting my feelings hurt by anything our family does long ago,” Alora says.

“What’s the story?”

“I fell in love with a human, a man without even a drop of evian blood.”

I must look surprised, because she smiles fondly. “It wasn’t as unlikely then. Mother hadn’t created her island palace and humans surrounded us much of the time. We didn’t always have evians cleaning, and cooking, and serving us. We used humans for those tasks. After this, she opted for seclusion, at least until the formative, early years had passed for Inara, and later for Melina, and now for you and Judica. In any case, his imperfect blood notwithstanding, you might have heard of the man who caught my eye. I’m not sure if they still teach about his life on Ni’ihau, but he’s still part of the curriculum in public schools around here. His name was Benjamin Franklin.”

I snort. “Uh, yeah, he’s come up,” I say. “He made the first lightning rod, and was born in 1706 – wow, I never made that connection before, because why would I? But you’re the same age.”

Alora looks away from me, her eyes glassy, as if thinking about this pains her. “We first met in London. He was brilliant, Chancy. Brilliant and imperfect and full of life and fire in a way that no evians I knew were.”

“So what happened?” I ask. “I want to hear every detail.”

Alora glances at her watch. “One day I’ll share the whole story with you. But since it’s getting close to time for school, I’ll skip to the critical part. I became pregnant.”

I can’t breathe. “Oh.” For years, I thought Mom would change her mind if she were confronted with a half-evian child or grandchild. I guess I was wrong.

“Mother presented me with my options. I could give the child up and remain her Heir, or I could leave. She made it clear that if I left her side, I would never be welcomed back.”

I splutter. “Whoa, you left way back then?”

Alora’s shoulders droop and her eyes won’t meet mine. “The worst mistake of my life is that I didn’t. I gave him up. Benjamin raised William himself, never revealing the identity of William’s mother to anyone, including William himself.” Her voice trembles. “I forsook the man I loved, and I abandoned my child. I can never undo that misstep. Never.”

“Then why are you—”

“You’re wondering why I live like an outcast now, I suppose.” Alora smiles ruefully. “It’s not really that bad, you know. Evians think that the rest of the earth is covered with trash, teeming with unfit people. They think humans aren’t worthy of time or attention. It’s true that things are harder for humans. They work harder to comprehend, to overcome, and to create. But hard work isn’t a dirty word. Evians are wrong that humans’ shortcomings make them unworthy. Every life has value. People are still people, no matter how short a time they have on this Earth, or how imperfect their visage. In many ways, the humans’ limited time on Earth helps them remember not to waste it.”

“I don’t think humans are trash,” I say.

“I know you don’t, Chancy, which is part of why I’ve always loved you. You’ve been fed the same stories as all the other evians, but you open your genetically perfect eyes and look around at the world as it is. You draw your own conclusions, even when they’re not popular ones.” Alora drops her voice. “It’s the reason you’ll make a better ruler than Judica.”

“So you think I should fight her?”

“I think Alamecha and the world would be better off if you defeated her and ascended the throne. I didn’t say it’s what’s best for you. And we can’t live by what should be. We have to live by what’s possible.”

“You had to let go of the regret.”

Alora nods. “I did.”

“If you weren’t exiled, why did you come live with the humans?” Why didn’t she stay in Ni’ihau for me? I could have used her help and guidance.

“After I gave them up, I mourned. Mother thought it would pass, but it didn’t. Part of that may be Benjamin’s fault.” Alora looks wistful. “He really was incomparable. The man never gave up on anything. Every time he popped up somewhere, I relived my mistake, regretting it anew. Mother was furious every time, but I wasn’t a complete moron. When I gave up the child, I made Mother promise she would protect William and his trouble-making father as well. Mom swore, not realizing how difficult her promise would be when she saw how distracting they were to me.”

“But Mom would never—”

Alora chokes. “Don’t Chancy. Don’t defend her to me. I know you spent every waking minute with her. You think you know her, and maybe you do, but you don’t know how much keeping you changed her. Fundamentally. The Mom you knew and loved was not the same mother who raised me. She was softer after you, not as cruel, and also stronger at the same time. She did many things in her nine hundred years that would make you squirm, if not hate her outright.”

I lift my chin. I won’t listen to Alora besmirch Mom. She was complicated and hard to understand, and sometimes people didn’t know the truth. To the rest of the world, Mom ordered Lark’s execution. Who knows what else Alora saw that might not have happened. I know Mom, and that’s enough.

“The point is, seeing Benjamin’s rising glory reminded me over and over of what I’d done. I couldn’t move past it, and after Inara was born, Mother didn’t need me anymore. That’s when I realized that I’d given Benjamin and little William up... for nothing. I’d spent a full century training, learning, and studying for something that never came to pass. With Inara alive and well, I became extraneous. The sacrifice I made of everything that mattered to me felt so necessary at the time, but ultimately it was meaningless.”

“You were angry and you stormed out?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “My anger had long since gone cold.”

“You fell for someone else?”

She laughs. “Never again, not like that first time.”

My heart sinks when I think of Alora’s despair spanning centuries. It must show on my face.

“Don’t look so crestfallen. I’ve fallen in love many times since then, but it was never the same, never like it was with Benjamin. Even when you live a thousand years, love like that is rare, almost non-existent. If it hadn’t been my first love, I’d have recognized it for what it was: epic. I found the kind of love that changes who you are, and coupled with my loss...” She swallows. “I never should have let it go, and humans die so quickly.”

“Then why did you leave the family?”

“I couldn’t bear to stay, knowing I was unnecessary and seeing how hollow everything was. Everything that I valued became meaningless. I needed a clean break. And the saddest part is, I think Mother was relieved when I finally left.”

I bite my lip. “She missed you. She never spoke of you, but she kept your photo on her dresser. She would stare at it sometimes.”

Alora pats my head, like she’d comfort a dog. “I believe that. I have children myself, you know. And grandchildren, great- and great-great-grandchildren, some of whom you’ve now met. For propriety’s sake, most of them don’t know I’m their grandmother several times removed. They call me Great-Aunt Alora, and even that gets confusing. Once they realize they aren’t aging normally, I fill them in, at least a little bit, on what it means to be part evian.”

“So William? Your son, is he still...?”

“Alive?” She stares out the window. “Benjamin never divulged our secrets, but eventually I broke down and told William who I was, and I explained his legacy. And he was loyal to me, you know, very loyal, always to me and to Alamecha, even though the family spurned him. When the colonies decided to start their little revolution, before Mother decided to embrace it and rule this upstart group of people in a new way, he fought for me, for the family that despised him. In the end, he fought the father who raised him and who loved him dearly, and he did it for me, the mother who abandoned him.”

“And?” I ask.

“He died for it, Chancy. He wasn’t full evian you know, and he was more... susceptible. In the end, we think it was poison. People had begun to notice that he wasn’t aging, even though he had false portraits painted depicting white hair and wrinkles. There were a lot of accusations of witchcraft then, and we think someone suspected he was different and took measures.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

“I recovered from that loss long ago.”

Alora can say what she wants, but her eyes swim with unshed tears.

She takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure what the future holds for you Chancy, but there are lots of teenagers like you at Trinity doing normal teenage things. Mother told me you love TV, and I know they fascinate you, the humans. You could be happy with them, especially with my help. Living your life without the burden of leadership, without the sacrifice and the all-consuming demands it makes, it will free you. I’ll support any decision you make if you promise me one thing. If your epic love appears, if your Benjamin comes along, whether he’s evian or not, promise me you won’t let him go, no matter the price.”

“Thank you for supporting me.”

“The last thing I’ll say is that a thousand years is a long time to regret a mistake.”

I think about Alora’s story while I shower. By the time I dry off, I’ve made up my mind. Alora’s story was about a guy. And while I think Edam and Noah are both intriguing, my decision isn’t about choosing what kind of guy I want to build a life with. On the surface, Alora’s story reminds me of Romeo and Juliet, but that interpretation misses the point. The real tragedy is that Alora didn’t find her own path. She let Mom dissuade her from it, and she couldn’t rewind a clock on the human she loved, or the half-human she lost. That became her defining moment, preventing her from finding her true calling.

I think back to my life before Mom’s ring wrecked everything. I fought with Judica daily, and I was desperate to break free. Other than Mom being ripped away, the essentials haven’t changed. My life still sucks and only one option offers me the chance to break out of the never-ending cycle.

I’m sorry Mom, if you’re up there shaking your fist at me. I’m terribly sorry if you’re hungry for justice. Judica might have killed you, but killing her, if I even can, won’t bring you back. I can’t live my life for you, not anymore. Alora shouldn’t have lived for you either. I have to live for myself. I don’t know how I feel about Edam or Noah yet, but I know how I feel about myself, and I know I don’t want to kill my twin.

I’m going to abdicate.