Heavenly Bodies

Chapter Forty-Five

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

King Idris paced the throne room as Elara watched him, her hands clasped behind her back. Enzo stood beside her, his own back perfectly straight. Elara had just finished recounting the last weeks to him, the king grilling her on every minute detail.

‘You directly disobeyed my orders,’ Idris seethed at her. ‘And you,’ he turned to his son, ‘nearly cost me my weapon.’

‘I have a name,’ Elara said coolly.

Idris dismissed her with a glance. ‘Time wasted. Time that should have been spent preparing to kill Ariete, not being his prisoner .’

Enzo shifted beside her.

‘As opposed to being yours?’ she asked.

‘You’re a foolish girl. A spoilt one at that. Have I not given you everything? A safe haven. A palace bedroom. All the food and freedom you want?’

‘A gilded cage is still a cage,’ she replied.

Idris gave her a withering look, turning to Enzo. ‘I have already seen to your punishment, as you well know. The only reason that she avoids it, is because I need her as strong as possible for our plan.’

A quiet anger began to settle in Elara’s bones as she realized what Idris meant. He had already hurt Enzo. Enzo rolled his shoulders, and she thought of the perfectly smooth skin beneath his shirt.

‘Punish him again,’ she said, making sure threat laced every syllable, ‘and I will never conjure so much as a wisp of shadow for you.’

Idris turned slowly, regarding her closely. ‘What’s this? The shadow princess has a heart?’

‘Of course not,’ Enzo snapped. ‘She’s just weak, and emotional. Forgive us, Father. This week will be dedicated to getting her training back in shape. We’re close with her shadows. In a few weeks, she’ll be ready.’

This assuaged Idris, who nodded tightly, lounging back in his throne.

‘You had better be, Elara,’ he said. ‘You’re lucky that your little trick at the theatre has helped our cause temporarily. So long as Ariete believes you are dead, we can catch him by surprise.’

Elara nodded stiffly. ‘You’ll be glad to know that our values finally align. I will kill Ariete if it’s the last thing I do,’ she replied.

The streets of Sol were quieter than Elara remembered. She followed Enzo through an unfamiliar quarter, where the alleys were wider, the squares clean and studded with carved fountains.

As they passed through the Light-washed buildings, she saw the hazy spires of Leyon’s temple.

‘Do you ever go in there?’ she murmured, nodding her head to the extravagant columns that disappeared into the distance.

Enzo snorted. ‘You know by now that I’m not the religious type, certainly not for that slick-haired, pompous fool.’

She considered that for a moment. ‘No, but you’re the prince. Surely you must do your duties and make a show of worshipping your great god? We had to hold a private ceremony in Piscea’s temple every Hallow’s Eve. It was one of the only times I was allowed out of the palace.’

‘On the largest holidays, I drag myself there for the ceremony, yes. The upcoming summer solstice will be the next time I set foot in that “place of worship”.’

They stopped in a small, empty square. Washing lines were strung up between the alleys that veered off the square, the smell of clean linen floating on the gentle breeze. The heat was dry and pleasant, and as she walked further on, a delicious scent of cooking drifted by.

‘I wanted to show you something special to me.’ Enzo leaned into her. ‘I come here when things become too much for me. I’m hoping it will maybe help you too.’

He led her to the wooden door of the nearest marble building, and they stepped inside. Cool shadows greeted her and seemed to run up her arms in welcome. A small roofless atrium held a turquoise pool in its centre, with soft lightshine dappling the shade.

‘Now be gentle,’ he said as a warning. ‘I’ve never brought anyone in here before.’

Something glowed within her, and she tucked it away. A feeling to treasure after so long wading through nothingness. He took her hand and pulled her through the shade of the entrance, their footsteps clacking on stone underneath, echoing. He veered to a door on the right, and with a flash of his light, he unlocked it. Grinning, he turned to her as he opened it.

Light bathed the room. Drowned it. The space was so open that she felt weightless. White stuccoed walls graced the chamber, while a small enclosed garden was displayed beyond the great floor-to-ceiling windows. But it was what filled the room that had her enraptured.

Sculptures and statues of all sizes lined the walls, some works-in-progress, others finished and polished. Miniatures of mythical beasts lay on a workbench in the centre of the room, while life-size statues were dotted around the workbench in various poses. She took a timid step towards the one closest to her—a woman cradled by her lover, their lips almost touching. She traced a finger over the form.

‘Do you like it?’ Enzo asked behind her, still in the doorway. She whirled to him.

‘Enzo, you created all of this?’ She spun around in a full circle, admiring the art.

He gave a sideways smile as he walked into the room, shutting the door. He came beside her, close enough for her to smell the amber on him.

‘I did. This is what I do to heal.’ He reached for the workbench and pulled a lump of stone closer across it.

‘Show me,’ she breathed. He gave her a small smile. Readying his hands, he concentrated as brilliant white beams began to shine from them. He expanded the beams until a pure, almost crystalline ray was projecting from his hands. He then manoeuvred it so it started to cut away at the lump of stone. Elara watched smooth curves form before her very eyes, the rough lines carved and polished away. And watching him pour his love into his art, she felt her own jagged edges begin to soften.

The weeks that followed were some of the most peaceful of Elara’s life. Enzo lied consistently to Idris, promising that he had her under a gruelling training regimen, when in fact, each day, he brought her to his studio as he worked. Elara would bring piles of books with her and lounge on a chaise longue as he worked, the steady and rhythmic tapping of his light against the stone a soft music to her as she read.

During breaks, they would sit, basking in their little world as they sipped fresh mint tea. They talked about art and music and their lives as he worked. It became increasingly easier for Elara to talk of Sofia, to keep her spirit alive. She would recount stories of their adventures as children, their dramas as teenagers and the trouble they had both landed in countless times, Enzo peppering her with questions.

Some days Enzo worked on a project that he would not let her see, a towering block of pure white stone that glimmered whenever the day’s rays hit it. He kept it hidden behind a screen and she was only met with a small smile whenever she asked about it. Some days he asked her to be his muse, to sit draped on a couch as he looked to her and carved a delicate hand, or the wisps of hair covering a face.

Elara’s skin was beginning to glow again, the days walking through Sol tanning her face and the quiet peace she found in company with the prince helping her shine from the inside. Her frame began to fill out too thanks to the pastries Enzo force-fed her from Bruno’s, the little bakery next to his studio. The larger-than-life proprietor had taken one look at her when she’d walked in on the first day and given her a dozen pastries to take away. She became familiar with the other artists in the building too, the other establishments in the square, learning their names and trades with a smile as she found the confidence to walk amongst them, borrowing tools and running errands for Enzo.

From time to time, she would see Leo around the palace, always offering a smile as he hurried to the army barracks or training grounds, working overtime so Enzo could spend his time with her.

And Merissa…Elara had not dared seek her out. There was still a nonsensical guilt attached to the glamourer in her mind, as though it was an insult to Sofia’s memory.

But Elara had finally summoned the courage to visit Isra.

She’d still been afraid up until the moment Isra had opened her door, but the seer’s eyes had lit up the second she saw her, followed by an unrestrained hug. Isra had then bustled her inside, offering her tea and slamming the door promptly in Enzo’s face.

Since then, a few afternoons a week, Elara had kept an appointment with Isra to practise her dreamwalking. The seer was well-versed in realms outside of the living, and Elara found the escape another place for her to heal.

It was on one of her afternoons with Enzo, as they lay sprawled on the lawn of the small terraced garden, eating lunch, that Elara snapped her book shut with a sigh of frustration.

‘What’s wrong?’ Enzo asked, breaking off a piece of bread.

‘I’m annoyed,’ she replied, hurling the book across the lawn.

‘And what did that book ever do to you?’

‘The heroine of the story just lost all of her magick. Why do they always do that? She was so strong and powerful, and then at the end, she just gave it all up!’

Enzo chuckled, taking a grape from the platter between them. ‘So you’d never give up your powers?’

‘ Never ,’ she swore vehemently, curling a small shadow around her little finger. ‘In fact, all I want to do is learn more and more about them.’ She bit her lip, a question she’d longed to ask for a while on the tip of her tongue. ‘Do you think you could teach me?’

Enzo looked up at her from his food, his mouth full. ‘Teach you what?’

‘To sculpt. I know I don’t possess the Light, but I’ve been thinking about my powers, my shadows…I wonder if it would work?’

He got to his feet, excitement radiating from him as he pulled her up with him. ‘Let’s try.’

They hurried back into the room, and he pulled forth a small chunk of pure white stone, clearing the workbench in front of them. He eyed it, checking something, then came around behind her. His scent wrapped around her, and her senses focused on his closeness, how his breath was warm on the nape of her neck, smelling of mint and honey.

He cleared his throat as he lifted his arms around her, raising her own so they were held out in front of her. The callouses of his palms lay against the soft backs of her hands.

‘Relax,’ he whispered by her ear, chuckling, and she did as he commanded. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’m going to guide the Light and show you how to carve. Then you can try the same with the Dark.’

She nodded, smiling up at him. She felt his arms tighten and turned back as he began to create the power between his hands again. He barely breathed as he concentrated on infusing it through Elara’s own palms without harming her until bright white enveloped both. He took her hands with his as he widened them and elongated the solid shape forming. Then, ever so gently, he moved their hands in a dance as a curve started to take shape on the stone.

Elara gasped in awe. ‘I can feel your light through me.’ Euphoria seemed to take over, thrums of pleasure beginning to stir as his warmth infused her. ‘Is this how you feel all the time?’ she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

He huffed out a laugh as he focused on their hands again. ‘No. I used to only feel this when I created art.’

‘You’re happy,’ she whispered.

He squeezed her fingertips.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you try and infuse some of your shadows into this—feed them in?’

Elara nodded, setting her face in determination. She stilled her mind, calling to her shadows, her breath quickening as she felt her power rise.

‘Relax,’ Enzo murmured again as her body became strained. She melted into him, and exhaled as shadows began to stream from her palms. They danced along Enzo’s light, caressing it in spiralling tendrils. She thought she heard him moan gently behind her, but it was such a soft sound that she wondered if she had imagined it.

Dizzy ecstasy drummed through her as his powers danced with hers, the meeting of his radiance with her shadow like a delicious finger running down her spine. Her eyes fluttered shut and her head dropped back against his chest as he moaned quietly again—she was sure, this time. She could feel her entire being throbbing with power, his light a warmth that she never wanted to leave. The sounds drowned out around them, and all she could hear was the steady thrum of his heartbeat and his ragged breath. Sighs were escaping her too as she chased the high, feeling Enzo’s grip tighten as his power flared. A gasp left her. She pressed into him, and with a last burst of exertion, she directed her shadows in the same way Enzo had, allowing him to help guide the smooth curves again through their shaking, entwined hands.

Her shadows bled into his light, drowning the stone in it. She shuddered again; the pleasure so intense, it was painful. It felt like she was standing in the midst of him, her soul bare to him and his to her. She could feel a release brewing between her thighs, and the revelation was so striking that she staggered forwards, gasping. Enzo reached to stop her, breaking whatever hold he had on her. She looked up at him wildly, flustered and out of breath. His own wide eyes returned the look, his cheeks flushed.

She went to speak, to ask what in the Deadlands had just happened between them. But something caught her eye, left behind on the worktop as their combined energies waned. Elara let out a gasp at what lay before them. Seconds ticked by in silence. Finally, Enzo picked the object up with shaking hands, the carved slice sharp to the touch.

‘When shadow and light combine, a Star will fall,’ he whispered, mirroring Isra’s words from a few months ago. ‘A weapon to kill a god.’