Chapter XX
XX
So Mira of the Lake bared her breast to Arandar the Barbarian, prepared for the touch of his sword.
She knelt before him and prayed in a dozen tongues; in Corrinian, in Skandish, in Song, in Caervallin.
In Honorian, in Vesperin, in Barren, in Harsh.
In Hallish and Unforth and Callendran and Wroth.
In every tongue, she petitioned Gentle Lyria for peace, even those which had no name for the goddess of the stars.
At last, it was Wroth that Arandar understood, and the power of Mira’s prayer and her faith was so great that he set his sword aside, and took Mira to wife, and tilled good earth by the shores of Laclamar, never seeking the ways of violence again.
—FROM “MIRA AND THE BARBARIAN,” A CORRINIAN FOLKTALE
Delivered by a widowed mother who’d taken refuge at Lyria’s cloister, Ariana Inver had been consecrated to the goddess of stars the moment she slipped into the world with her mark already apparent.
As she slipped in, her mother slipped out, fading away into death just as Ariana began to live.
Matria Serafine had been all she needed for a mother; the sorias, her family and her world.
At twelve, she’d been allowed to become a postulant, rather than waiting till the customary seventeen.
By thirteen, she’d made her fidelity oath.
It was always her faith others spoke of with awe—the purity of it, the strength.
No one had questioned Serafine’s choice to groom her for eventual succession to the role of Matria.
It was only natural that a child who shone with Lyria’s light should someday become her hands and voice.
Now, as Ariana stood silent beside her Inver husband and listened to him bid farewell to Dolenza, speaking amiably of the riches of the plains after a week spent touring Raea’s holdings, she thought that every consecrated woman she’d ever met had been a fool.
It had not been faith that burned so bright in her.
It had been the certainty of childhood. She hadn’t been a paragon—she’d been young and sheltered and brought up in an environment so rarified it often felt like ecstasy.
All that fragile, ephemeral faith had long since shattered, leaving only a single, adamantine belief behind.
Ariana knew with her whole being that if the goddesses were merciful, if they were true to their own precepts, it ought to be possible to purchase peace without violence.
True peace must be bought in kind, and ushered in peacefully.
A cessation of hostility won through lesser evils could not honor the Three as they were meant to be honored.
If she was only strong enough and bright enough and devout enough, a child of light ought to be able to forge such peace through force of will alone.
Applause broke out among the gathered sorias and plains merchants as Orden spoke of unity at Ariana’s side.
They were pleased with him, while the queen herself felt only dull fear.
All too slowly, the formalities of departure were dispensed with.
The royal currus was brought out, and Ariana ushered into it.
When Gaius brought Orden’s charger, the king waved him away.
“Not yet,” he said. “For now, I ride with the queen.”
Gaius raised a brow in surprise, but as ever, did not question his sovereign.
Orden waited until the caravan had begun to snake away from the cloister and the currus was already moving.
Then he bid Dolenza a final hurried farewell and jogged over to Ariana’s conveyance, swinging the door open and himself in through it.
Ariana sat pressed to the wall beside one of the windows with Justus in her arms, and tears glistened on her cheeks.
She could not help them—her failure was before her, personified in the form of her Inver husband, glad and hale, bent immovably on actions she could not condone.
But for Orden’s sake, she wiped surreptitiously at her face and attempted to smile.
Behind them, Dolenza, Aurelia, and several more of the most highly respected sorias stood at the cloister’s great gates.
They began a restless, ululating chant, and Ariana wished desperately for Fia.
Of course she would stay behind with Miriel, but Lyria’s light, it had been such a comfort to have her near.
“What is it?” Orden asked.
“A travel hymn,” Ariana said dispiritedly, smoothing Justus’s blanket. “For dry roads and fair winds, for a tempering of Raea’s greatest heat by day and a summoning of her leftover warmth by night.”
“All fall in,” Gaius roared, and the various detachments and divisions of the Inver household settled into their decreed places for the journey home.
“I didn’t mean the singing,” Orden said. “What is it that makes you weep? Tell me, so that I can bring back your smile.”
For a moment, Ariana only looked at him. It was no use answering truly—he’d fixed his course and would not be swayed from it.
“I’m pleased the cloister and the sorias met with your favor, my lord,” Ariana said, as if she’d never heard what he asked. “It was good to see you happy with Raea’s house.”
Let it be only that, she prayed. Let him not have designs on the cloister of the sun. War upon war I can tolerate, but not this. If I have ever found favor or stood in the light, turn him away from Raea and her abundance.
Orden shifted in his seat across from Ari, vitality radiating from him. He wore one of the cloth-of-gold doublets he favored, and was freshly shaven, smelling of phelamon spice and horses. Were she ever to envision a king with her mind’s eye, it would be him. It would always be him.
“I’m happiest when you are happy,” Orden said with a smile so honest it pained her. “And I know it did you good, being back in a cloister again. I wish I could give you the chance to revisit your old life more often, my star.”
“You are my life. You and our son.” Ariana took one of his hands in her own and pressed a kiss to it as she spoke.
She wanted to believe those words. She said them as if she could force herself to become a queen who felt such things were true.
But Ariana was not that woman. She never had been, and never would, no matter how hard either of them tried to pretend it was so.
“Where is the nurse?” Orden asked, as Justus began to stir and make querulous sounds and Ariana sighed.
Unable to force the words out, Ari shook her head. Fresh tears pricked at her eyes. Alone again, and nowhere near enough for what lay ahead.
“Perhaps it’s for the best she chose to stay behind,” Orden said. He held out his hands for Justus and took the prince, patting the baby until he soothed. “Perhaps we can make better use of her within the walls of Raea’s house. Certainly you can visit her there as often as you like.”
“A postulant?” Ariana asked listlessly. “Your court would not approve of such a friendship.”
“They will if Fia is raised to the position of Matria, and a bond is forged between our castle and her cloister.”
Ariana hadn’t even realized he knew Fia’s name.
“Fia as Matria?” she managed to say at last. “Whatever put such an idea into your head? She’s completely unsuitable—I enjoy her company, but she can’t even read.
She isn’t truly attached to the cloister yet.
There seems to be some reluctance on Dolenza’s part, to hear her fidelity oath.
She may never be a soria, let alone Matria.
It’s a generous idea, Orden, but impossible. ”
“I am king,” he said vehemently, leaning forward.
“What I purpose is always possible. I will make Fia Matria before harvest time and give you Raea’s cloister in place of what you sacrificed for my sake.
In doing so, I will unite Honoria. I will give Justus a country made whole.
I will have the means to defeat Caervallion.
And then by and by, I will win our Vesperin war, as well. ”
“When did all of this come to you?” Ariana asked. Though her bleeding had slackened and her strength returned, she felt pale and drained again, as if some other essential force was being drawn from her. She reached for Justus, and Orden handed him back to her with reluctance.
“It’s all fallen into place piece by piece, since your nurse first arrived on the mountain,” Orden said.
“Then on the way here, I saw the postulant do something, something I’d never even heard of before.
She called it the blooded touch. Seemed to think it’s considered base and unacceptable by the followers of the Beloved Three.
So we have a secret to keep her in check with.
She’s not just a fitting choice for Matria by virtue of being your friend.
She’s someone we can bend to our will. That’s good, Ari.
That’s the best sort of friend and ally you can have—one you’ve got power over. ”
Ariana opened her mouth slightly and shut it again. Then she glanced down and fixed her eyes on Justus’s small, sleeping face, as if looking at him was somehow very, very important.
“She showed you the blooded touch?” Ariana whispered after a moment.
Oh, she’d known Fia was wild and ruthless and unschooled, but it had never occurred to her that her friend from the battlefield would go so far as to use that most terrible of gifts.
Orden was growing impatient with her and her lack of enthusiasm for his newest plan.
“Yes. She was there when I learned that Crispus had been causing your bleeding. She drew blood out of him in payment. Said she could kill him that way, and that since she’d touched him so, he was going to die sooner or later anyhow.
I’d never seen or heard of such a thing. Is it common among your people?”
Ariana nodded, as if she hardly heard him. When she answered, her voice was far away. “Everyone goddess-marked has the blooded touch. That’s why the blood prohibition exists. To keep us from turning this world into a nightmare.”