Through high arched windows, sunlight came greeting Amara as she stirred. For a moment she thought herself still adrift and braced for the creak of timbers. But the goose-down pillows and silken sheets resolved into her familiar childhood bedroom in the palace. She smiled up at the ceiling's familiar decorative mouldings. This dawn brought comforts long missed.

She washed and dressed at leisure, relishing the luxury of fine robes and scented oils. But the carved skull in her worn leather bag was never fully from her thoughts. Its secrets yet awaited unpacking here. Would its ancient uncanny power aid her mission to heal this divided kingdom? Or did darker purpose taint the Hallow Skull still, despite her best hopes? Amara firmly put aside that worry for now. Today's path held troubles enough without borrowing from tomorrow's shadows.

Soft-footed servants answered her summons, bringing trays of pastries and chilled fruit that made her mouth water. But she only picked at the rich meal, her appetite fleeing as the realities of her new role pressed close. Could teachings gained through hardship actually restore a kingdom's trust and prosperity? Her confidence of the night before seemed bravado in the harsh light of day.

A gentle knock at the door stirred Amara from her thoughts. At her word, Lady Elissa entered in a rustle of silk with her graceful features creasing into a smile at the sight of her daughter.

Amara rushed eagerly into her mother's embrace. However daunting her duties, this at least was an uncomplicated joy.

Elissa held her daughter close, stroking her unbound hair. "Does the day find you well, my heart?" At Amara's mute nod, she guided them to sit close on embroidered cushions. "I can scarce believe you are returned to me, changed yet still the same." Her eyes misted with unshed tears of mingled pride and sorrow. "But see, I forget myself. You must want breakfast."

Amara glanced at the laden trays and shook her head with a wan laugh. "My appetite is as nervous as when I was but a girl at my first ball." She pressed her mother's hand. "Tell me true, is the kingdom's plight very dark?"

Elissa sighed. "Darker than when you fled these walls. But any dawn holds hope." Her look turned introspective. "The law binds our land. But the heart must lead, especially in shadowed times."

She touched Amara's cheek. "You have wisdom now beyond your years. Trust it, as I trust you will bring light again." Certainty resonated in her tone. Amara drew courage from her mother's faith. She would need that reservoir in the days ahead.

Elissa turned the conversation to lighter matters then—gossip of the court, tales of Velkan's exploits. Amara gladly embraced the mundane normalcy, helping her mother braid up her long auburn locks for the day. She realized suddenly her own hair was unadorned, bereft of the silver moonstone pendant generations of their house had worn. Sadness tinged as she recalled its loss to the sirens.

Elissa notices Amara's wistful glance at her bare throat. "What troubles you, child?" At Amara's hesitant explanation, she said in comprehension, "Ah, the pendant. Part of you is still adrift." She rose gracefully. "Wait here."

Mystified, Amara obeyed as her mother glided from the chamber. She returned shortly bearing a velvet case. Nestled inside was an intricate pendant of platinum filigree and pearl.

Elissa lifted it reverently. "This will serve as a replacement. I would have it grace your neck."

“Ok.” Amara bowed her head and Elissa settled the heirloom in place with familiar care. Its cool weight felt both alien and comforting against her skin.

"There. A queen you look." Elissa kissed her forehead softly.

Amara impulsively embraced her again, trying to convey her swirling mix of joy, anticipation and trepidation. In her mother's reassuring warmth, her course seemed less of a lonely burden.

Finally, they parted, sharing a smile. "I will leave you to prepare." Elissa smoothed her dress, moving toward the door. But she paused, looking back with a wrinkle between her fine brows.

"One thing weighs, daughter. This rogue pirate who accompanied you..." Hesitation shaded her speech. "He seems little courtly company for one of your station."

Amara blinked, taken aback. In the whirlwind of homecoming she had not considered how Rhys's rough manners might raise eyebrows. But she could not deny him without denying part of herself.

"Mother, his loyalty pulled me through fire. His heart is ironbound however rough the ore." She met Elissa's concerned gaze earnestly. "In faith I say his hands are clean, whatever their past. Please, reserve your judgment."

Elissa studied her a long moment before saying, "You speak from wisdom and I hear it. But be cautious, still. The world remains ungentle to your innocence." With that cryptic warning she took her leave.

Amara remained thoughtful even as maids helped weave her hair into an elegant corona and drape her in deep blue samite raiment befitting her new station. She hoped her trust in Rhys had not been misplaced. He moved in different spheres, but perhaps together they could still build needed bridges. She refused to doubt that hard-won gift of faith. The rogue had her loyalty if none else.

Mind thus occupied, Amara barely noted the winding route down into the city's terraced heart. But as their small procession approached the immense open forum before the central palace, scattered figures resolved into a milling crowd of hundreds thronging the tiered square. Amara peered anxiously at the sea of faces half-hidden beneath hoods and caps in the fitful morning light.

Were they gathered here with goodwill to see the lost princess restored? Or resentment at new uncertainty after so many seasons of unease? Amara straightened her shoulders beneath the midnight blue mantle. She had faced darker crowds and trials. These were her own people. She must greet them with compassion, not apprehension.

Her escort stopped respectfully at the forum's edge, allowing Amara to proceed alone into the uneasy murmurs. She took a deep breath and moved slowly forward, searching the anxiously shifting faces. "Good folk, I am Amara, daughter of Lord Xanthus," she began, her words were ringing clear. "I am returned to serve Cerulean."

Muttering spread but she pressed on. "Many of you may know me only as a figure of uncertainty. But I have walked through darkness and learned wisdom unlooked for." Self-consciousness warred with resolve as she felt hundreds of eyes probing. But she made herself continue.

"If you will share your hearts with me, I feel we can mend much together. For I am your daughter, sister, mother as much as any. We all seek life's blessings however humble."

Uncertainty held the crowd a few breaths more. Then a voice called "Here here! Bless our lady!"

Applause rippled and spread until the forum thundered with approving cheers. Caps waved, joined by increasing smiles. Amara blinked sudden tears. Their hope and kindness opened a gate to purpose within her heart. Perhaps she could serve worthily after all. She moved into the crowd smiling, clasping work-roughened hands, reading the myriad needs and dreams on each distinct face.