It didn't surprise Esmera that Belaren was a lord. He dressed with the confident flamboyance of someone who didn't care what others thought because he knew their opinions didn't matter. What she wasn't expecting was for Tauram to be the Prince of the kingdom he had told her he was banished from.

She gave him a sideways glance. She supposed she could see it in his straight shoulders, in his foreign yet refined accent, in the privilege he seemed to take for granted, but she hadn't known what it was.

A Prince had given Esmera his coat in an art museum she had wandered into completely by chance. It sounded like the beginning of a fairy tale, but it was a true part of Esmera's story, some awkward middle section that fell into a greater plot that could turn out to be a horror story or a fantasy.

A thrill ran through Esmera as she replayed the goddess's greeting in her mind. So, this was Milatanur.

She looked around at the gleaming, camel-brown sofas adorned with dark brown cushions, at the glass coffee table with curved wooden legs, at the people she didn't recognise in the photographs decorating the walls. Then she looked out the window at the green-coated mountains interrupted by splotches of unmistakable white snow.

This was Milatanur, and she was Lady Esmera returned home.

In the thick of the long silence, the woman embraced by green light raised an eyebrow at Tauram. "Your clouded leopard got your tongue? You're more than familiar with my name when you're using it to embellish your creative curses."

At that, Lundas growled from where he lurked in the shadows at the edge of the room. Esmera started, but Jilhari didn't blink.

The goddess's eyes were as serene as ever. Her finger stroked over the stripe on Myresh's back as he reclined in front of her. Even so, the air tensed like an elastic band pulled tautly.

Tauram gulped and fell to his knees, gesturing for Esmera and Belaren to follow suit.

"Forgive my disrespect, Āmā Jilhari."

The name rang through Esmera with familiarity. Mother of bastard tigers.

Maybe it wasn't a curse so much as the truth. From the way Belaren's squirrel sat so comfortably in her lap, maybe Jilhari was the mother of other beings too. The family trees in mythology never branched out how one would expect.

"You may rise." Jilhari waved her hand with a flicker of amusement so subtle Esmera might've imagined it. "I am commanding and demanding, as my husband says, but I am not one of the tyrants of this land." She caught Esmera's eye. The power and knowledge in that gaze rendered her speechless as the goddess continued. "I am but the voice of the earth, and I have summoned you here in the name of the beings I protect."

Esmera and the men stood. She had heard Jilhari's words, but her mind spun as she attempted to comprehend its meaning.

Before she could succeed, the woman beside Jilhari, Ghallia, spoke.

"I am here for my children because I cannot let them grow up in the ruined kingdom their father will leave behind for them."

Esmera heard Tauram's sharp inhalation, saw Belaren toss a worried frown in his direction, but she still had no idea what any of it meant.

"Sit down." Jilhari nodded at the three-seater couch behind Esmera and the men. "It is time to explain exactly why I have brought you here."

They obeyed. At Jilhari's side, Ghallia was as prim and upright as the perfect queen would be. Esmera studied the stones sparkling at the tips of her golden crown, bright against her dark hair. Maybe she was a queen.

Maybe that was why Tauram stared at her like that, like she was the finest gem the earth had to offer, the brightest bloom of the season.

The three newcomers looked at the two women expectantly.

"Queen Ghallia?" Jilhari confirmed Esmera's suspicions with her words and invited the other woman to speak with a gesture of her hand.

Queen Ghallia took a long, deep breath and released it in a sigh. "Milatanur is a mess."

"Why?" was Tauram's instant reply.

Ghallia held his gaze even as her voice softened, almost as if she was afraid someone would overhear her. But who would in this quiet cottage surrounded only by mountains?

"The wrongful ruler has been on the throne for too many years. Nature is rebelling against itself, against those it nourishes and supports."

At that, the biggest moth Esmera had ever seen rose from behind Queen Ghallia. It was as beautiful as she was, with curved orange wings rimmed in grey.

Esmera stifled a scream. She would have to stop being startled by everyone's familiar if she didn't want to make a spectacle of herself in Milatanur.

Tauram sat back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest in feigned nonchalance, but Esmera saw right through it.

So did Lundas, growling as he left the shadows to settle beside Tauram's ankles.

"Surely you need the gods, not me," said Tauram.

Jilhari's eyes flashed, the rainbows within them no longer friendly as she matched Tauram's jab with her own. "They refuse to tolerate the injustice of a usurper ruling the land they created and serve."

Tauram's voice hardened. "They were fine with it when I was cast out ten years ago."

"Do not hold us accountable for the decisions of your heart." The goddess pressed her mouth into a line.

For the first time, Esmera sensed the people she had smote before. She sensed every forest the fire of Jilhari's fury had burned down. Even Myresh felt it. He squeaked, but Jilhari soothed him by resting her hand on his furry head.

Tauram made the wise choice and kept silent. He looked at his lap at the same time Queen Ghallia stared at her feet. Her moth fluttered down to perch on her shoulder.

There was a shared history there, some secrets and many questions, but more than that, Esmera couldn't tell. The Prince and the Queen were both far too good at hiding their thoughts.

Jilhari leaned forward, a long lock of her unruly, leaf-woven hair falling across her face. "Milatanur has fallen out of balance. The gods couldn't do much about this even if they wanted to. The spirits and every other force beyond our control are losing their sense." Her solemnity deepened her voice. "The very land we stand on is unstable. To undo this damage, the gods must destroy Milatanur and create an obedient kingdom ruled by a fair and rightful ruler."

"Surely that isn't the only option." The seriousness in Belaren's voice unsettled Esmera, as did the colour draining from his face.

The situation must be dire if he was this alarmed about a place he had never wanted to return to.

Esmera started as Jilhari smiled at her. Somehow a goddess's smile was as unsettling as a frown.

The light surrounding the goddess spread outwards, soft, radiant, full of a mysterious hope that Esmera felt like it was her own.

"Destroying Milatanur was our sole option until His Highness stumbled upon his betrothed, something I wasn't expecting."

Esmera's eyes widened. She glanced behind her, but there was no one there. It was her Jilhari, Queen Ghallia and Belaren stared at with expressions as different as the shades of their irises, her whose eyes Tauram couldn't meet.

"What?" Esmera gazed around the room.

The word felt weird on her tongue even as it sounded right to her ears. That's when she realised everyone around her had been conversing in Milatanuran, and she was now speaking the language as if it was her mother tongue too.

It was, every though she had been too young at the time to remember it.

Tauram was right. Her auditory memory had stored this language without her realising it.

Jilhari's eyes swivelled to the Prince, narrowing in disapproval. "You didn't tell her."

Even though Tauram avoided her fierce stare, he must've known it was for him because he answered. "No, I didn't."

"Tell me what?" Esmera turned to him, demanding answers as she had so many times that evening. This time, she was sure he wouldn't evade her questions.

He wouldn't dare to under a goddess's burning gaze.

After a heavy silence, Tauram spoke. "Esmera, when you were born, you were betrothed to me. We should've been married after your eighteenth birthday, but that didn't happen because we believed you and your family to be dead, and I was banished by that time."

Esmera's mouth fell open. Her birthday kept getting stranger and stranger. It was as if the magic and wonder that had been missing throughout her life had accumulated and decided to bombard her on this day.

A vision of the life she might've lived filled her mind. She could see the bright dresses and sparkling jewels. She could smell the feasts. She could hear the laughter resonating through the balls.

It was when she looked at the man she was married to that the vision crumbled. It wasn't Tauram but Stephan, blowing everything Esmera earned on alcohol, taking all his frustrations about his life out on her.

Even after that, after everything, Esmera couldn't see herself married to anyone else as much as she wished she could.

She pushed away the memories and shook herself, wishing that was all it took to discard her past for good.

Tauram had mentioned the Finnazes' daughter should've been a queen. If Esmera was betrothed to Tauram, a prince, that could only mean one thing.

"You were supposed to be the King."

Tauram inclined his head in affirmation.

Esmera's mouth fell open. Not only was this man she had met at an art museum her long-lost fiancé, but he was supposed to be a King.

Jilhari clasped her hands together as she looked between Tauram and Esmera. "Our second option is for the rightful king to reclaim his throne. Now that he has returned with his betrothed, there is hope for Milatanur."

Tauram still stared at his lap. Esmera looked to Jilhari for answers instead.

"What could I possibly do for Milatanur?"

The goddess tilted her head. The butterflies fluttering around it adjusted their orbit. "You must know about the Finnazes' secret weapon."

Esmera nodded. That was something Tauram had told her about. The goddess nodded her approval.

"But I don't know what the weapon is." Esmera fidgeted with her t-shirt's hem. It sounded like a lame admission to make to a goddess, but being dishonest would surely earn her a worse condemnation from those dark, rainbow-reflecting eyes.

"Nobody alive knows what it is. You have a week to get answers and learn to wield it." Jilhari rose into the air, still perfectly cross-legged.

Alarmed, Myresh squeaked and leapt down from her lap. He scurried across the floor and up Belaren's leg, diving into the pocket he had first emerged from.

"Whatever the weapon is, it is believed it can defeat King Ruagu and give Prince Tauram the chance to take his rightful place as King," said the goddess, her voice echoing as if through a cave.

Esmera's gut knotted. She had wished to come to Milatanur to find her lark, not to save it from a threat she barely understood, but there was no disobeying a goddess.

"You are Milatanur's last hope." Jilhari looked between Esmera and Tauram. The urgency in her words shone through in her grave gaze. "Queen Ghallia will report back to you on King Ruagu's movements. Together, you will coordinate a coup. If he is still on the throne in one week, the gods will erase Milatanur and recreate it afresh."

Before Esmera could fully comprehend the direness of the goddess's mission, she had vanished, taking her flower seat and the quiet, stately Queen and her moth with her.