16. Mare
Mare
Iwas beginning to realize Paragon Tiernan had a sincere soul. We'd returned to our room and disturbed the fog of silence hanging over the inn by dragging a cot over creaky floorboards.
Lying here, in the darkness, I could feel warmth from both the crackling hearth and the man sleeping beside me. Reese had pushed our beds together, turning two into one. My heart thundered against my ribcage; my fingers trembled.
I'd never been religious. My birth year had seen the burning of the Saints' shrines and the building of Solathair's cathedrals. Those who'd resisted the change had been hunted by Inquisitors and bound to stakes.
Under the cathedral's vaulted ceiling, I'd knelt in the shadowed corridors with Liam. Light spilled from candles above, framing only the altar in light. A statue of Solathair at the head of the room, a porcelain marvel sprouting brilliant wings, bathed in their golden glow.
The metaphor in the imagery was impossible to miss. Liam never missed his chance to make a snide comment when Father forced us to attend.
How little mind I'd paid the sermons, back then. Tuning the priests out, staring at the floor, counting motes of dust to pass the time. Once, I'd felt a shiver run down my spine, though I hadn't known why.
I shifted on the cot, tracing the Paragon's outline, the little hills and valleys of his hair, the rise of his shoulder. Fear choked in my throat, and I shifted away from him, choosing cold isolation over the sudden rush of panic.
Though fast asleep, Reese rolled over, crossing the gap I'd created. Heat pooled over my back once more.
Father said the saints had once gleaned the future in every stir of the wind, in every falling leaf. Was this, then, a warning? Now that the holy Paragon had me, he'd always find me.
No matter how far I ran away.
Faint, silver light spilled from the black firmaments as first starlight arrived. I’d hoped Reese would take pity on me and let me sleep in, but no such luck had blessed me. Closing my eyes, I listened to the breeze rustling the willow trees and clutched Cierthine tightly.
I waited for the magic to feel right, for it to surge up within me.
A few moments passed, blanketed in silence.
Opening one eye, I looked around, hoping to glimpse some kind of awe-inspiring magic.
Nothing.
Perhaps I'd been hoping for too much. Most people did not lie down to sleep one night and awaken with the truths of their souls in hand.
I sighed heavily. Swiveling, I opened my mouth to address Reese, and saw his sword diving for my throat.
Lifting Cierthine, I blocked his blade and staggered back.
"Good!" Reese grinned.
"Saints!" I hissed. "I thought we were finding my catalyst?"
"You were just standing there. I figured I'd test your reflexes." He twirled his rapier. "No luck?"
Lowering my heavy blade, I rubbed my temples. "No."
"That's alright. These things take time."
"It's not alright, is it?" I snapped. "I'm not a mere student—and we aren't in times of peace."
I bit my tongue. I wasn't mad at him.
If my words offended Reese, he showed no signs of it. "Strike whatever you just tried from the list. In the meantime, we can get more training in."
My muscles screamed at the thought of more training. I wasn't meant for this. I was a lady of the courts. Gossip and rhetoric were my weapons.
Tightening my braid, I prepared for another round of bruises and defeat.
Reese frowned at me and sheathed his sword. "You're still holding it wrong."
"Does it matter how I hold it?"
"Yes," he insisted, circling behind me. Taking my right hand, he slid it up the hilt. "Dominant hand against the guard. Opposite hand as far down as possible."
The lesson melted to mush, flowing in one ear and out the other. I focused instead on his arms looping around me to mimic how I should hold the blade—guiding my hands for me.
I could feel the hard muscles in his shoulders and biceps, the strength in his grip. It was distracting.
"You'll have a better grip for a long guard." He thrust the blade for me. "See?"
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized he was right. This stance and grip felt much better. Mostly, I turned bright red.
One of his hands—the arm he'd kept covered by a glove—burned hot against my skin. It was not a pleasant sensation, not like the gentle warmth the rest of him gave off.
Every hair on my body stood on end, screaming at me to run, that this man would kill me. That he was wrong.
Was the flush rising to my cheek from fear, panic? Or was it the awareness that one of the most powerful Solhearts stood so close?
A snapping twig caught my ear.
I turned to look, but Reese was faster.
The Paragon stepped between me and the noise: a cluster of bushes growing against the inn's wall. He flicked his blade. A shimmering sword of pure light manifested before him and whizzed across the yard.
It flew faster than an arrow—a mere blur. With a heavy thud, it struck the old wooden wall, tearing chunks and splinters loose.
The entire movement happened in the blink of an eye. Saints above. I'd been mercilessly beaten into the mud every morning, and the whole time the Paragon had been holding back.
A cloaked figure stumbled from the bushes, yelping in surprise. "Shit, Reese!" They yelled. "You couldn't ask 'who's there' first?"
I recognized that voice. "Ferris?" I uttered in disbelief.
The prince—who should have been on a return journey home to Aenir—threw back his hood, spilling loose his steel curls. "Sorry, couldn't resist. I was curious what you two were, ah, doing."
His emerald green eyes flicked from me to the Paragon, one corner of his mouth turning up.
Well, there was another rumor for the Aenir gossipmongers.
"Training," Reese said flatly. "Ferris, why are you here?"
"Because we're not letting you run off to your deaths without aid," Ferris said.
Reese narrowed his eyes. "We?"
I exhaled and lowered my head.
Saints. Why did I think my delinquent brother was above tailing a Paragon who'd ordered him to stay away?
Liam leaned against the hearth, arms folded over his rich crimson vest and elegant overcloak. He shot me a roguish grin.
"You look nice," I commended, looking him up and down. "Going to a ball?"
"If we're going to die, I want my corpse to look dashing." He waved a hand idly, gaze flicking to the prince.
Ferris never dressed like a noble. He appeared more like a traveling bard: loose silks with a colorful sash at his belt. Reese was glowering at him, jaw tense.
Small wonder Ferris had addressed the Paragon by his first name; these two had a history.
"You two are riding to your deaths," Ferris said.
"How observant," I said, voice clipped. "Pray tell, how are you going to help, exactly?"
Liam nudged me. "Hear the kid out."
"Kid?" Ferris echoed, incredulous.
Our people could live to see two hundred years. Most of us considered a seventeen-year-old a mere child.
"Yes, kid," Reese said forcefully. He yanked out a chair and leaned on its back. "If I'm heading toward my death, it's because I now have three charges to protect."
The anger in Reese's voice was one I recognized: like when Father had yelled at me for getting lost in the city, late one night. Wrath born from concern, not hate.
"Mare." Ferris looked at me, discarding manners and speaking my first name. "You and Liam were at Galasvar. Monsters have never attacked like that. Think. What was different?"
I ran a hand through my hair, thinking. Ferris had a point; something must have driven the monsters of the shadowlands to act differently than usual.
"Need something be different?" Reese asked. "Scripture says a black tide will wash over the land one day. What if this is it?"
"Something would still be driving it," Liam said. When Reese looked at him, he quickly added, "I presume."
Closing my eyes, I dug through my memories. A great dragon—the kind that only appeared in legend—had arrived first. It had landed upon the gates and remained perched there until the siege's end.
In the chaos, I had not been able to keep track of movements, but . . .
But there had been a song. A dirge humming across the entire city, up until the moment the monsters had vanished back into the shadows.
My eyes snapped open. "There was a song."
"A song?" Reese echoed.
"One, maybe two dragons were singing. I'd never heard anything like it."
The Paragon's brow furrowed. "Eyeless, double-winged dragons? They're called scádes. Sightings of them are rare, but there are records of them singing to each other—warning their kin, we think."
"What if," Ferris stressed. "Their songs can also command their kin?"
I swallowed, remembering the way the dragons had nuzzled me, affectionate and accepting. Fighting the images away, I eyed the prince across the table. "That's a bit of a leap in logic."
"Admittedly.” Liam glanced at me. "But if it's true? Sever the dragon's head, and the rest of it falls.”
Toying with my braid, I paced the hearth. After nuzzling me, the double-winged dragons had changed their song and taken off. Steady humming had heightened into quick beats, like a war drum preceding a column of soldiers. The monsters had vanished into the shadows, leaving Galasvar empty and dead.
If Ferris' theory was right, the leaders of the black tide had seen me as kin. I bent my face away, lest the others glimpse my panic. Watching the dancing flames in the hearth, I steadied my breath and expression.
"You might be onto something," I said. "The other monsters arrived with the dragons, and left with them, too."
"Scádes are intelligent, from what I understand. It's worth a try," Reese said. "But we've dawdled enough. If you insist on following us, do it quickly." He touched Ferris' arm and strode away.
The prince blinked, as though remembering something. Skidding around the table, he chased after the Paragon.
Rolling my aching shoulder, I joined Liam by the hearth, breathing in the warmth of the fire one last time.
"Shall we, sister?" He asked.
"Liam," I said, looking up. "Can you help me with something?"
"No promises.”
"What's your catalyst?"