Connor and the Wolves - 29. Queens

The Nicansien flowed through her earbuds, nearly drowning out Khurtschono’s viola. She swayed as her bow glided across the strings. Through it all, the bitter taste of wolfsbane covered her tongue. It was the new moon — by all rights, she should be out chasing rabbits in wolf form. But no. She had responsibilities that required her to be in neko form today. And probably tomorrow as well.
Freezing up, Khurtschono fought her rocking — that was a good way to poke out Arban’s eye while she played. Maybe not for this piece, where she’d be sitting up front as the soloist, but still, moving with the music was a bad habit to get into.
It was hard to actually find a viola solo for the Nicansien. Even worse was a viola solo along an actual orchestra. Miles must have done a lot of work to transpose the piece. Hot and smart… was there anything the elf couldn’t do?
Khurtschono shook the thought away, wincing as the motion cut through her practice. Pausing the recording, she blew out a long breath.
She only had half an hour before her mom complained she wasn’t ready to leave. Time to stop fooling around.
She flipped through the sheet music, bringing up a passage two minutes in. Miles had her playing the melody the piano normally played while he tackled the accompaniment on a harp. It was a rare opportunity for a violist to play something that wasn’t designed for a viola, and she didn’t want to fuck everything up. But the melody was complex in this passage, and it was a pain to hear the cello over the plucking of the harp in the material she was studying from. A viola-harp duo would have been better — at least she’d have the right sound — but she’d had no luck at all finding a recording for that pairing.
One problem at a time.
Bringing the viola up to her chin, Khurtschono rested it on her collarbone. She set her bow aside, and pressed play on the recording.
The music led her in, and Khurtschono pressed her fingers along the strings, watching the notes stream by on screen. A missed note brought a muffled curse, and she paused the recording.
Khurtschono glared at the notes as they sped past. It never felt good to play below performance speed, but she just couldn’t keep up with the music, not while she was still learning it.
An angry huff was all the release she’d get. Khurtschono brought the speed down to half before returning to the start of the passage. It was painful to drag the music out like this — it never sounded as good when she messed with the speed — but it was the best way to focus on the fingerings without rushing.
Releasing another breath, Khurtschono hit play and brought the viola back up to her shoulder. Her fingers stumbled along the strings, barely restrained from dancing ahead. A disgusted growl flew from her throat, and Khurtschono lowered the viola again.
“Hey Khurtsaa! Catch!”
Khurtschono glanced up at the door just in time for a water balloon to explode across her face.
Water dripped from her fur. In the doorway, Altanchono grinned triumphantly.
“I said catch,” he said innocently.
Khurtschono let out a deep breath. She set the viola carefully on its stand, and used her shirt to wipe off the worst of the water threatening her phone.
“You’re dead.”
Altanchono’s grin faltered. He bolted an instant before Khurtschono lunged. Digging her claws into the carpet, Khurtschono threw herself around the corner, hurtling after her brother.
“Khurtschono! Do not run in the house!” Catherine barked as the two thundered downstairs.
“He dumped water on me!” Khurtschono protested, shooting daggers at Altanchono.
“It’s just water. That’s no excuse for tearing through the house like Zasar’s bats.”
“He dumped it on my viola!” Khurtschono snapped. “And my phone,” she added belatedly.
“Then he will use his allowance to buy you a new phone,” Catherine said. “And both of you will stop running through the house. Now go get ready. We’re leaving in an hour.”
“Yes Ma,” Khurtschono grumbled. Catherine headed into the living room and Khurtschono glowered at Altanchono. “You better watch yourself.”
Altanchono blew a raspberry before darting past Khurtschono. Growling under her breath, Khurtschono wheeled back upstairs. Before she could recover her phone to check the damage, Catherine was calling them both to the living room.

“How bad is it?”
Khurtschono couldn’t remember the last time the entire family had been gathered around the TV. Most of the time, it remained off — there were better things to do around the house. But today, every ear was turned toward the screen.
“I don’t know,” Catherine said finally. “She’s a human. It can’t be that bad.”
“For a neko king to be forced to step down?” Khenbish scoffed. “Yes, a violent succession is very useful to ensure peace.”
“What is this going to change?” Catherine challenged. “Our ruler is now a human girl. The council will be unchanged. There won’t be the upheaval there was after Miranda. Mages and werewolves will still be persecuted, and elves and nekos will still yell at each other.”
A commotion on the screen drew Khurtschono’s attention from her parents. The room quieted as Princess — now Queen — Amber stepped onto a balcony.
She looked nothing like Khurtschono expected. Where was the crown? The sceptre and cape? All of the royal accessories were missing. Queen Amber looked just like any other person walking the streets in a fancy blue dress.
“I come to power in a time of racial turmoil.” Her voice carried quiet but strong, magnified through the crowd of microphones in front of her. “And it breaks my heart. I would wish my father to observe tradition, to be wiser, older, before I take the throne. But you, the people, have spoken. My father made mistakes. And you said no more.”
What mistakes? Freeing a neko who had been wrongfully accused? Had Miranda ever even confessed?
“I am here to atone for his mistakes. For hundreds of years, humans have been seen as the balance between elf and neko. We are the voice of reason between warring peoples. And so I shall be for the people of Astara. I will listen. I will mediate. And with your help, I will reunite our people, for we are all Astaran; we all deserve peace and happiness. Not only the elves, but the nekos, the werewolves, the mages, and the humans. We can coexist in peace.”
“Well, she certainly thinks much of herself-” Khenbish held up a hand, silencing Catherine.
On the screen, the queen took a deep breath, glancing down at the stand in front of her. When she looked up again, a steely determination filled her eyes.
“At this time, I would like to thank my father for his service to the people of Astara. It may not seem like it in the heat of the moment, but looking back, Dowager Finley led us well after his mother’s murder. He was thrust into a situation beyond his control, and yet we pulled through thanks to his leadership. And that is something to celebrate him for. So I ask, when you remember my father, remember him as the king who kept three peoples together through hardship. The king who lost his mate, yet kept going, continued to serve despite his heartbreak. We move in a different direction now, for nothing good comes from stagnating in old ways, but we could not stand where we are now without his hard work and dedication.”
Khurtschono could see the dowager behind Amber, a tired flame in his eyes. He was… what, forty years old? He should have years of life left in him, but he looked like he needed a year-long nap.
Queen Amber met her gaze through the screen, a challenge in her eyes. Khurtschono fought back a growl — it had been years since anyone had stared her in the eye. It rankled her fur to leave the challenge unanswered, but what was she going to do? Attack the tv?
“We will move ahead. We will learn from the past, and we will have peace. I stand here, Queen Amber Etaro, ready to do my duty to my people. I will see order restored. I will see the senseless fighting of the past week put to rest for good. And I will see cooperation between all.”
The queen turned before the camera, walking back toward the double doors that led to the palace. Dowager Finley bowed low before her, and Queen Amber bid him to rise, the two passing back into the palace together.
“All promises we’ve heard before,” Catherine muttered.
“You said yourself that the council will remain unchanged,” Khenbish said. “I like her. It takes a lot of courage to willingly walk into a fire you cannot control.”
“We’ll see if she’s up for the challenge,” Catherine said. “Khurtschono, meet me in the sanctuary.”
Khurtschono’s heart thundered. So much for having time to practise. But she couldn’t ignore her mother — this was too important.

Khurtschono turned the silver tiara around in her hands, tracing the gems on the front. Topaz for Zasar, lord of the soil and all who dwelled within it. Ruby for Lynestra, the fire that burned above. Jade for Lumara, the pale reflection that offered light in the dark. And sapphire for Tareth, liege of the rivers, and bringer of love.
The Forgotten God. The Forbidden God. Khurtschono didn’t like to think of them like that. Tareth was a living god, as alive as the river she played in as a kitten. And they were remembered by all calicos, their chosen people.
“You remember the ritual.”
Catherine’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. Khurtschono nodded as she looked out the car window. Her mind was a forgetful place, but there were some things she could never lose. Tareth’s blessing was one of those things.
“The circle-”
“Uses three blue votives,” Khurtschono completed. “The other gods are not welcome at a calico’s naming day. I remember.” She frowned at her mother. “Is this a good idea? I mean, performing the ritual the same day a new queen comes to power?”
“What is your fear?” Catherine asked quietly, pulling onto a small street filled with shoddy apartments.
“That the guard will be out in force. That catching a pair of eingar offering a blessing would make the career of any guard,” Khurtschono said.
“Any guard who arrests a neko today would only fan the fire,” Catherine pointed out. “We are safer today than perhaps any other day. Besides, Ordyal belongs to Tareth. Today has to be the day.”
She pulled into a car park, and shut off the car. Taking the tiara from Khurtschono’s hands, Catherine caught her hands gently.
“Take a deep breath.”
Khurtschono did as she was instructed, closing her eyes.
“The rivers are with you this day.”
A wet finger traced over her forehead. Khurtschono released her breath, feeling Tareth’s love wash over her.
“Take your fears.” Khurtschono inhaled again, twisting her fingers into a boat. “And let the river take them from you.” She pushed off as she exhaled, letting the fears of being caught, of forgetting her role, all vanish.
“Now, collect your cloak.”
Wriggling her arms into the red fabric, Khurtschono shifted in her seat, making sure the cloak did not wrinkle.
When she had finished, Catherine set the tiara on her forehead. It was once Catherine’s, handed down to her from her mother, and from her mother. Now it would be Khurtschono’s, to pass down to her eingar child.
“You are ready,” Catherine said, a soft smile playing across her lips. “Remember what I’ve taught you, and keep Tareth in your heart. I have faith in you.”
Khurtschono’s heart thundered in her chest as she opened the car door. Stepping outside, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her ears.
“Apartment 23,” Catherine added, just before the door closed behind Khurtschono.
Scanning the apartments, Khurtschono followed a series of doors to a narrow alley. She lifted the hem of her cloak, squeezing through the alley to another set of doors. A woman caught her attention, a bottle in her hand and dirt smeared across her face. Khurtschono ignored the human, turning back to the doors.
20… 22…. She crossed another gap between buildings, stopping in front of door 23.
Another deep breath. Catherine had already purified her. Everything was ready. And fear could not touch her. Khurtschono raised her hand and knocked.
It took a moment for her ears to pick up the scraping of a lock. The door opened, and a golden Niwo peeked her head through the door.
“Can I help you?” she asked brusquely.
“Please inform Arlo that the eingar is here.”

“Remember, if you’re ill at ease, so is the parent.”
Her mother’s words filled her mind as Khurtschono lit incense. Nerves could threaten the entire ceremony. She needed to get rid of the gnawing pit in her stomach.
“Your son is beautiful,” she said, reaching for her votives.
“Thank you,” Arlo breathed, rocking his infant lightly against his chest. “He has a lot of his mommy in him.” A moment of silence passed between them. “Um… I wasn’t expecting an Ythin. Not that there’s anything wrong with an Ythin eingar,” Arlo added nervously.
“Of course not,” Khurtschono said brightly, setting the votives in a triangle on the circle she’d already traced. “My mother is Niwo. Taught me everything she knows.”
She placed a wooden bowl in the middle of the circle before lighting the candles. Waving the incense over Arlo and his son, she poured a drop of river water on her finger from a small pendant. A careful swipe over both their foreheads purified both Arlo and the baby, and she motioned into the circle.
“Can you set him above the bowl please?”
“Of course,” Arlo breathed, stepping into the circle.
He knelt, carefully setting the swaddled child on the floor. Khurtschono waited for him to step out of the circle before taking his place.
The pendant turned upside down, pouring blessed water into the bowl. Ripples ran across the water’s surface as Khurtschono stood up. She glanced at a folded paper before tucking it into her cloak.
“Tareth, Liege of Rivers, Mother of Nekos, Father of Lovers, I bring before you this young one. Born of Arlo and Sadie, he is pure in your eyes, and deserving of your love as one of your people.”
She turned toward Arlo with an encouraging smile.
“Great Liege, I beseech you…” Arlo gulped, glancing at Khurtschono. “I beseech you, watch over my child.”
“Grant him courage in his life. May he grow old and wise, and may he prosper throughout his life.”
Khurtschono swept her hand over the infant, sprinkling water across his blanket.
“May he know nothing of strife, may his days be peaceful. May he grow to know your love. And may he one day find love to cherish as you cherish him. In your eyes, I name Felix Finch, first of his name.”

“I’m so proud of you.”
Catherine sat on the side of Khurtschono’s bed. Altanchono was busy in the shower, giving the two a moment alone together. It was a rare bit of peace within the house, one Khurtschono was grateful for.
She smiled bashfully, chewing on her lower lip. How exactly was she supposed to handle her mother’s approval? It wasn’t a rare occurrence, but still….
“Thanks,” she murmured. “Are we okay? I mean, with the new queen.”
“I doubt anything will change,” Catherine said. “Elves will still be elves, nekos will still be nekos, and werewolves will still take the blame for everything.”
She leaned over and kissed Khurtschono’s forehead.
“But you don’t need to worry about that. Get some sleep. You have school tomorrow.” Catherine crossed the room, pausing by the door. “And for the love of Tareth, do not antagonise your brother tonight. Both of you better keep the peace.”
“Yes Ma,” Khurtschono grumbled.
“Don’t think he won’t be getting this warning either,” Catherine added, soothing the sting just slightly. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Ma.”
Rolling over, Khurtschono buried herself under the covers. Her leg twitched, mussing the covers, and she grumbled. A new moon without the bliss of being a wolf. Such a thing was unheard of. Despite her mother’s praise, despite her success with the ritual, Khurtschono sighed.
Life went on. And she had to face Soren the next day, and deal with him claiming NekoWolf.
Worse yet, she had to face Miles.