The Reveal

The night was finally here, and the ballroom was illuminated with shimmering chandeliers and glinting mirrors. The smooth sounds of a classical orchestra wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and anticipation. All eyes were on Prince Azim as he moved through the hall, greeting his guests with a bow or a simple handshake. The room seemed to shimmer with the dazzling array of silks and satins, jewels and tiaras, as everyone wore their finest attire to celebrate the event. Conversations were buzzing with excitement as royals from neighboring kingdoms were eager to see what the Prince had planned.

Khari stood near the back of the room, her petite frame dwarfed by the golden ballgown that clung to her curves. The corset-style top and full, billowy skirt of many layers gave off an air of elegance. She had pulled her long, dark hair up in a delicate bun, and her small ears were adorned with sparkling earrings that glinted in the light. She was lost in thought as the moon slowly rose in the night sky. She knew that any moment now, she would be able to see.

Opia, Khari’s faithful servant, glided up to her side and bowed her head as she handed Khari an icy glass of champagne before disappearing into the crowd. Khari took a small sip of her drink as Wren approached. His eyes traveled up and down her figure before he smiled and whispered, “You look beautiful.”

Khari slowly brought the glass to her lips, steeling herself with a deep breath before she took a long sip of her drink, letting the sweet liquid warm her throat. She lowered the glass after finishing the drink, and a nearby waiter swooped in to grab it. She offered Wren a polite but firm response, “I don’t want your compliments.”

Wren searched the throng of people, his eyes darting back and forth until he found Azim standing in the corner, deep in discussion with a regal-looking figure. He returned his focus to Khari, his brow furrowing as he asked, “Did you know that Azim had planned for your father to come?”

“Yes,” Khari lied, trying to keep her cool.

Wren gave her a hard look and said, “You’re lying,” his voice was heavy with accusation as he continued. “You said you didn’t ever want to see your father again. I think that’s why you put up with my detestable behavior.” He spoke softly as if the words pained him to utter them.

Khari’s mouth fell open as she realized he was referring to their conversation from a year ago. She was surprised that he had been so attentive and engaged in her story, as now he recalled it without any prompting. “I did say that. I can’t believe you remembered that,” she said.

Wren’s shoulders slumped, and he glanced away, his eyes clouded with recollection. He cleared his throat, “I remember everything you said,” he replied, surprising himself with the conviction in his voice.

Khari shifted beneath Wren’s keen gaze, feeling out of her depth. He hung on her every word, and for the first time since she’d met him, she felt as though she mattered to him. “I can endure him one more day,” she said.

Wren’s eyes softened, and his voice was gentle but firm. “I know you can,” Wren said, “Khari, I just want you to know I’m not giving up. I want you to see the real me.”

Khari’s stomach knotted at his words. Every muscle in her body tensed, and a wave of sadness washed over her. She straightened her back, “Don’t worry, Prince Wren. I’ve already met the real you,” she said curtly before walking away. With every step, she felt his eyes boring into her as she disappeared into the crowd. All around her, conversations and laughter flitted between the guests, but it felt like a distant buzz to Khari.

A Viscount with a long, narrow face and thinning hair peered through thick, rounded spectacles and spoke in a hushed tone. “I wonder what he’s going to show us,” his voice quavered excitedly.

The Duchess leaned in, so close that her delicate perfume tickled the man’s nose. Her voice was barely a whisper, “I heard it has something to do with the war.”

The Earl scratched his chin and shifted his weight nervously. His eyes lit up with anticipation as he said, “I don’t know what’s coming, but I’m excited to find out.”

Azim stepped up to the dais, and the room went dead silent. His eyes scanned the faces in the crowd, and he paused, taking in the atmosphere before speaking. He had a way of commanding attention without shouting or grand gestures, and all present had their gaze fixed upon him, eagerly awaiting what he had to say. “Thank you all for joining us tonight.” Azim looked around the room, taking in the wide eyes and parted lips of the audience, who were hanging on his every word. “I have an important announcement to make,” he paused for a moment, allowing the tension to build. “There is an Atea in our midst.” His words reverberated off the walls, and the collective gasp of the crowd filled the room. People leaned forward, their eyes wide as they whispered amongst themselves, trying to grasp the gravity of Azim’s statement.

One Royal stepped forward and spoke with a voice as clear as glass. “Only two Ateas have ever walked the land. One touched by the breath of Kaze, the wind god, and the other, blessed by the tears of Ame, the rain god,” he paused and looked from face to face, allowing his words to sink in.

Azim’s mouth turned up in a knowing smile, and his eyes twinkled. He spread his hands wide and declared, “The Atea before you has been alighted by Tsuki, the moon goddess.” A hushed gasp of surprise rippled through the room.

King Nashir’s eyes widened in disbelief, then immediately sparkled with excitement. His long, curly beard swayed as he spoke. “An Atea in my kingdom? Who is it?” He paced around his throne, giddily rubbing his hands together.

“Khari Reign,” Azim said, and in an instant, the room stilled as all attention focused on her. Heads turned towards the back of the room, and whispers traded between the guests until a path opened up from the double doors to where she stood, her small frame illuminated by the golds and oranges of the overhead lighting.

“My daughter isn’t an Atea!” Duke Reign bellowed. “That’s ridiculous,” his voice echoed throughout the room, and all eyes were on him.

Wren approached the base of the throne, eyes wide with incredulity. His voice trembled as he spoke, “If she’s really an Atea, what is her gift? I mean, I never noticed anything…different,” he paused, his brow furrowing in contemplation. How had Azim known? Had she confessed to him?

Khari felt the coolness of the ballroom air on her skin, heard the faint chatter, and hushed expectation of the gathering crowd as they watched her in awe. The brilliance of the moon reached its apex in the night sky, casting an ethereal light upon her. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and cherished the silent moment. She knew that there would be no going back once she showed them what she was capable of.

She readied herself as her eyes fluttered open, and her vision came to life. The silver of her eyes gleamed like the moon’s radiant glow in the sky. She announced, “Tsuki has graced me, allowing me to see when the moon is at its fullest in the sky.” With everyone’s eyes glued to her as she walked down the aisle, she realized she felt more comfortable being blind. At least, she was unaware of people gawking at her. But now that she could see, it made her feel naked, as if she was on display for everyone to see.

Khari walked in a trance, every step bringing her closer to the dais. Azim watched her intently from the bottom, his charming smile warm and inviting. The crowd hushed when King Nashir stepped forward, his features illuminated by the chandeliers above them. His luxuriant beard waved and tickled her skin as he bent down to take her hands in his own. “My child,” he murmured with a mix of wonder and reverence, “can you really see?”

Khari blinked back tears, the sparkle of her silver eyes still aglow, and nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said in a soft voice. Her eyes were full of emotion as she looked at the King, who had always treated her kindly. She reached out, gently running her hands over his face. His chin and cheeks were rougher than she expected as she felt his facial hair beneath her fingertips. “You have a beard,” she breathed out in surprise, her eyes widening. “I’ve always pictured you clean-shaven.”

The King was taken aback, and a low, jovial chuckle escaped his lips. He extended his arms towards the crowd. “We have a new Atea!” he declared with pride. The room erupted with cheers and whistles of respect before bowing down to the chosen one who was graced by a god.