She couldn’t believe her eyes. At the bottom of the page was, like all of the other entries in the book, a symbol and a name to the left of it. Above it was a short passage of lines and at the top, the title. As he moved toward the firelight, she showed him the page.
“It’s pronounced Rye-kale-ya. You don’t know Angaulic, Jeremiah?” she asked.
“A little but not much. I never really had time to learn it.”
She motioned to the bottom of the page, to the symbol. He squinted to make sure he was seeing it correctly. “Isn’t that your birthmark, Chalice?” he asked. And it was. It was the mark of her birth and her pendant. Then he read the name, pronouncing it awkwardly. “Chalicia Maefeline Raie’Chaelia D’Ielieria.”
With a inquiring look, he asked: “What does that mean?”
Staring down at the page in front of her with an expression of astonished incredulity, she spoke slowly. “It means …” she said as she glanced up and continued, the firelight dancing in her eyes, “Beautiful Chalice, True Princess of Ielieria.”