28. Kiera
Chapter 28
Kiera
A scream peels me from sleep, yanking me into the world of the awakened with violent claws. Sitting up, surrounded by shadows and the sense of dread, I don’t move for several long moments as I try to ascertain whether or not the scream had come from my own throat or someone else’s. Twisting to look around the room, I realize that silence is the dark’s only companion. There is no feminine scream full of agony and fear echoing into the corners of the bedchamber. I reach up, touching my throat with my fingertips.
A second passes and then another and another. My door never opens. No one comes rushing in to rescue me from a nightmare I can’t seem to remember. A small bump jumps beneath the surface of the sheets that cover my legs and then moves swiftly upward. Peering down as Ara dives out from the blankets and skitters to where my hand rests, face down, on the mattress, she uses me as a ladder—climbing up my arm to my shoulder.
I didn’t scream, I slowly start to realize. Ara’s nervous energy is obvious from the tapping on my shoulder. She circles and circles, diving for my neck and tapping me there before she reaches out and clutches on to the strands of my hair. The sticky ends of her legs catch on the strands, tugging, and though it’s such a light pull, she’s never done it before. Reaching up, I cup my fingers around her, gently separating her legs from my hair to move her to my palm when I feel the harsh sting of a bite.
Gritting my teeth against the urge to snap out a curse, I curl my fingers around Ara even tighter and pull her—much less gently—away from me to set her on the bed in front of me. Before I manage to drop her in my lap, she bites me again. The sharp pain isn’t followed by any sort of hot sear that spreads outward, so I know she hasn’t used her venom, but it still fucking hurts.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I mutter, annoyed as I shake my hand out, trying to rid myself of the sensation.
In my lap, she circles again, legs tapping crazily as she hops up and down. Closing my eyes, I breathe through my mouth and reach out a mental hand to her smaller mind. Images flash through me. Blood. Water. Wind. A fractured window and the pale fabric of a dirtied dress dragged over stone. Red ribbons fanned out in an array of gray shadows. The scream that repeats back to me from Ara’s memories mimics the scream that had woken me. I focus on the ribbons. I know they’re red due to how often I’ve had to differentiate what my spiders see through their different eyes, but something about them is throwing me off. That’s when I realize, they’re not ribbons at all. It’s hair. Red hair.
My eyes slam open. “Maeryn.” Ara dives off me as I fling the covers back and jump from the bed. I don’t stop to grab my boots, thankful that none of the Darkhavens had crawled into bed with me knowing that it would’ve meant I’d have been woken up by my Spider Queen naked.
I’m at the door and across the corridor in seconds. I don’t bother to knock on Maeryn’s door, choosing instead to twist the handle. When I find it locked, I rear back and grip either side of the door. The first hit of the flat of my foot against hard wood elicits a loud bang and a groan, but no actual splintering. I debate going back for my boots as I line up for the next hit. Two doors open behind me. I ignore the sounds as I slam my foot into the door again. Another groan, still no movement.
“Fucking shit.” Now that the others are awake, there’s no point in keeping quiet. “Maeryn!” I yell her name and pause, listening. There’s no sound on the other side of the door.
I lock my hands back onto either side of the doorway and lift my foot. “Let me.” I’m plucked off the floor by one pair of hands as Kalix steps forward. I blink, frowning as he moves in front of me before realizing that Theos is the one who’s moving me back to give his brother space.
Even though Kalix is just as barefoot as I am, it takes considerably less effort for him. Kalix jumps up and positions his own hands a bit higher on the frame—all the way at the top, in fact. He dangles there, his feet barely grazing the floor as he swings his body back and forth, the muscles of his arms bunching with the effort. His front smacks the door, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he strains his arms. His entire lower body swings wildly away from the door and as he comes back to it, he lifts his legs and kicks.
The door cracks, a fissure racing up towards the top of the door and then down to the bottom from the place he’d hit. On the second attempt, it breaks completely, the two halves tearing apart so that a large chunk of the upper part falls inward. The space is only about a foot wide at the top, trickling down to the formation of the crack in the middle. It’s enough, though, for Kalix to drop back down and reach inside.
His arm disappears in the hole and then the lock of the door clicks. I throw Theos’ arms off me and rush forward, gripping the handle and flinging the rest of the door open to find … nothing. I turn and turn again. My breaths heave up and down in my chest as I take in the empty floor. The lack of furniture. Kalix and Theos’ footsteps follow me inside, but they remain silent as I examine every nook and cranny of the place, sure that what I’m seeing must be an illusion of sorts.
There’s no bed. No washbasin. No sign of anyone having stayed here at all. Turning back and rushing into the hall, I look up and down the corridor. While I know there are more rooms around the corner, our rooms—two for females and three for males—are the only rooms in this section. There’s not another room for Maeryn to have stayed. I drag a hand through my hair, confusion and questions spiraling through my mind. That scream had been so real. Terrified.
“Where is she?” The question comes out on a croak.
Neither Theos nor Kalix can answer. They don’t know.
A sound from the end of the corridor draws my attention and theirs as well. As one, the three of us turn towards the sight of Ruen there, a cloak covering the majority of his body and his face paler than usual as he holds the flattened shape of a satchel over one shoulder. He peers back at us, his brow pinched as he approaches.
“What are you—” He stops as he notices the splintered and open doorway. His eyes see what I’ve already seen. The emptiness inside. He releases a long, slow breath, his shoulders lowering before he turns back to the rest of us.
“I have information from Caedmon,” he says and I hate the clench my entire body makes at those words. I want to tell him ‘no,’ that I don’t care what Caedmon has to say unless it's in regards to Maeryn. She wanted to remain safe, to stay out of the path of pain and danger. I … wanted that for her too.
No one gets what they want here. The Gods have taken her for themselves and it’s probably too late. I’m always too fucking late.
No one returns to sleep and a few hours later, the dawn washes over Ortus Island with a new message. The invisible bell tower chimes, luring all Mortal Gods from the pseudo-safety of their rooms to the grand hall and then further. As we follow the masses, I watch and stare at the sea of faces around me, wondering which one will be next. If it will be one of them or one of us. They are like sheep to slaughter, not a single one realizing how much danger they’re actually in, and I’m beginning to resent the idea of keeping them in the dark.
When I’d said as much to Ruen, he’d reminded me that they may not even believe the truth. When you are raised in a cage, you begin to fear the flight you were born for. Our wings are not so much clipped now as they have been completely removed.
I turn my eyes forward as we enter the assembly space. I don’t need wings to be dangerous. I have claws and teeth for that.
Taking my arm, Theos gestures for me to move to a row of bench seats in the same place we’d been before. Had it only been a matter of days since Azai had announced the Cleansing ceremony? What had Ruen called it? A Traiectus Ceremony?—the name doesn’t matter, though, I suppose. Only the result, and the result is the weakening of our powers and Maeryn’s disappearance.
This time, it’s not Azai standing in front of the Mortal Gods of Riviere and Perditia. It’s a different God, another of the Council, this time a female. Gygaea, Goddess of Strategy, positions herself at the edge of the raised dais. My eyes narrow on her as she waits, face a mask of serenity as more and more Mortal Gods file into the hall and take their seats.
Normally, there’d be a low murmuring of sound—the quiet conversations of the students whispering to each other. I tear my gaze away from Gygaea to look at the crowd of people that have gathered. Now, there is nothing but silent shuffling and the sagging groans of wood under the weight of their bodies as they sit. Perhaps the sheep are becoming wiser. Perhaps they’re feeling the threat to their quiet, peaceful lives as serfs to the Divine Beings that they’ve served.
I look back to the dais as a second form appears there, some feet back from Gygaea. Makeda, Goddess of Knowledge, steps forward but remains a good distance from her Council member. She too has her hands clasped in front of her, but unlike Gygaea, her face isn’t nearly as serene. In fact, her hands are tight together rather than relaxed.
Makeda’s hair is a bit larger than normal, fanned out further from her head so that the crown holding it back and out of her face looks almost puny in comparison. Her lips are turned down with small lines etched around the corners and she practically glares at Gygaea’s back as the other woman lifts her hands to call attention from the room.
“Welcome, children,” Gygaea says, her voice soft and tinkling, but no less firm and sounding as Azai’s had been when he’d spoken here. I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding together as I ball my hands into fists in my lap. Theos reaches over and puts one of his over both of mine. I could laugh. As if his touch would stop me if I truly thought flying out of my seat and attacking a Goddess would help.
“We hope you are all recovered from the Cleansing ceremony,” Gygaea continues, the corner of her lips curving upward in a smile.
She knows . I work my jaw back and forth as my nails dig into my palms.
“The special wine we prepared often has ill effects on those with mortal blood, so if you still feel somewhat tired after its consumption, please do not fret. This is normal. The ceremony is still working on your bodies, removing the taint of this world so that you may become closer to the Gods.”
What. A. Fucking. Liar.
My nails pierce my skin and wetness trickles between my fingers. Ruen leans closer to me. “Stay calm.” His whisper is a warning.
Calm? I am calm. This is me calm. I don’t say anything as Gygaea goes on. She spreads her arms wide and smiles brilliantly, revealing the dual rows of sparkling white teeth set against the bronze skin of her face.
“Now, it’s time to announce our Second Rite of the Spring Equinox.”
Ruen’s nearness reminds me of what he’d told us after returning from the prison. A cold wash of air brushes over my skin, raising goosebumps on my forearms. I relax the hold of my fists, easing away from the torn skin and carefully keeping my fingers closed so as not to reveal the blood there.
Deep breath, I order myself. In and out. In … and … out.
At least now we know the truth instead of wondering what the Gods are planning. I should’ve considered asking Caedmon well before now about his damn book and if he would have any idea what the Gods are doing. Better late than too late.
Venatus, Ruen had called it. I breathe evenly, fighting against the racing of my heart and the need to take action as my eyes scan the assembly hall. Did they truly just send only Gygaea and Makeda?
“The Gods invite you all to participate in a special hunt that will take place tomorrow morning,” Gygaea announces. Movement behind her catches my attention and I dart my eyes back to Makeda.
As before, the rigid way the Goddess of Knowledge holds herself is obvious. Is she stiff-backed with regalness or with disapproval? As if she senses my attention, her eyes rise to meet mine. I’m struck by the crackle of lightning in her gaze, by the untamed power there that is just waiting to get out.
The tightness of her jaw eases as she gazes back at me. My head throbs with renewed pain, but it’s different from the ache after the night of the Cleansing. My hands contract against one another almost on instinct as if my body needs movement, but I know that to draw attention to myself right now would be detrimental.
Breath saws in and out of my throat, dragging the invisible life-giving air through phantom wounds inside. My lashes flicker as the pounding of my skull grows louder. I close my eyes, shutting off the conduit between me and the Goddess. The pain ceases almost immediately.
Bowing my head, I contemplate what the pain could mean. Was Makeda attempting to do the same thing Tryphone had? Was she trying to get into my head? If so, why had it hurt so much? Why hadn’t I been able to hear her voice as I had at the arena back in Riviere? Or had that been Danai?
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth as I raise my head once more and open my eyes, acting for all of the world as if I didn’t just have some sort of connection with one of the members of the God Council trying to eradicate us all. Makeda has stepped back now, her head downcast and a new expression on what features I can make out.
Loss. Sorrow. Frustration.
Why? It would be so much easier if I could demand truths from the Gods. Everything would be so much easier if everyone simply said and did what they actually meant. Kill us slow or kill us fast, at the crux of it all, the Gods want us dead either way.
Gygaea’s been continuing to talk openly to the assembly hall while my attention was otherwise distracted, so when I come back to her, it’s midsentence.
“—ready bright and early, my children,” she’s saying, that ridiculously fake smile that’s more autocratic than anything else plastered to her mouth. “For you will find that we Gods have a few more things in store for the celebrations.”
Her arms lower and the previously quiet and nervous crowd seems to gain power from her words. Chatter rises from the rows upon rows of students. Knowing what I know, I look at them all with new eyes. A few of the seats that had been filled to the brim the other day are now comfortably full, rather than stuffed.
People are missing. Mortal Gods are missing. Maeryn is missing.
I don’t know if I should be comforted by the fact that she’s not the only one, but the constriction in my chest doesn’t relax. When Gygaea releases the Mortal Gods, I watch her turn to Makeda. The smile falters slightly when she takes in the other Goddess, especially when Makeda’s expression hardens and the emotions that had been so evident to me before disappear completely.
The woman who’d looked back at me, who had seemed so disappointed by her inability to speak to me, she’d been almost … real. The woman that faces Gygaea is a Divine Being through and through. Her shoulders thrust back and her chin lifts. She arches a brow silently at her companion and Gygaea nods back with … is it deference?
Leaning to the side, I whisper to Ruen. “Who is more powerful between the Goddess of Strategy and the Goddess of Knowledge?” If anyone would know, certainly he would, right?
Ruen’s forehead pinches, his brows drawing together to form a v between them as he considers my question. “I suppose it would depend,” he finally says.
“On what?” I frown at him.
Midnight eyes meet mine. “On the battlefield.”
Strategy versus Knowledge. One might think that they were one and the same, but they’re not. No strategy can overcome a fight if they have the wrong information. Therefore, surely … knowledge is the highest power of them all.
The Darkhavens and I go back to our rooms to try and create our own strategy that will allow us to not only find Maeryn but to survive the rest of these rites without losing more of our powers. If only we had Makeda’s power of knowledge. If only we could find out all that we needed to ensure that we’d succeed.
If only we knew who we could trust.