Chapter 8 #2
My mother sits beside my father, but the rest of us stand across the table from him.
The Celestial Chain lies atop the table.
The tension in the air is thicker than the dense clouds of incense rising from the thurible.
Astrophel has been glowering at me since we got here, hand braced on the pommel of his Crescent Sword, as if he’d like to draw it and lop my head off.
I shift my weight and turn from his vicious stare.
My father is bent so low over the pages of Noelani’s letter I can’t gauge his reaction to them.
I’m tempted to try and use my magic, to summon it again like I did in the Reliquary, but there’s no guarantee my second-sight will cooperate and reveal his thoughts to me, and there’s every chance someone will notice my eyes misting over and realise what I’m doing.
I can’t risk that.
I’m walking on thin ice and need to tread carefully. My father is already furious the binding has been interrupted. One false move and the whole idea of searching for the Starlight Staff will shatter, and I’ll lose my chance of redemption.
My father turns to Orthriel, who’s hovering near the door. ‘Can you confirm this document’s authenticity?’
My Guardian nods.
My father’s eyes widen, and he picks up the Celestial Chain.
‘The moonrunes have faded,’ I say.
He sneers. ‘How convenient. What did they say?’
I swallow. ‘I-I’m forbidden from sharing the location of the Starlight Staff.’
My father stiffens. His chair scrapes the floor as he rises.
‘A proviso to avoid that information falling into enemy hands.’ He strides towards me, fists curling at his sides.
‘Are you calling me an enemy?’ Orthriel darts with inhuman speed to my side.
My father steps back, and I’m sure it’s only the cielsylph’s presence that prevents him striking me.
I stare at the floor mosaics. ‘She forbids my sharing the information with anyone. I can only tell you I’m required to travel north.’
‘The High Lands are rough and inhospitable, much like their occupants… unsafe for Estelia’s Crown Princess.’ The air around my father shimmers, his aura flashing black as he lays a proprietorial hand on my shoulder. Fear. Flushed deep rose at the edges. Shame. Crushing shame.
My curiosity is piqued. Silver threads worm my vision.
Without thinking, I tug at them, biting back my gasp as memories that don’t belong to me crystallise in my mind.
I try to ignore the wave of giddiness making the room lurch like we’re on the Orbital Sea, the buzzing in my ears, as images whirl before me.
Highlanders gathering. Mounting a challenge for the Crystal Throne. The Conclave intercepting messages. Driving the rebels back. Foiling the coup.
I loosen my mental grip on the threads. Blink.
It’s all over in a matter of seconds. Similar to what happened with Elvi in my rooms, and again in the Watching Chamber, only with one crucial difference.
This time I summoned the visions. The second time my magic has obeyed me in the span of a single moonsrising.
It’s the first I’ve heard of any such Northern rebellion. My father has obviously hushed this up. He likes doing that – pretending uncomfortable truths away.
I file this juicy morsel to the back of my mind. Something to chew on later.
My father has resumed his seat, and Astrophel is speaking now; his terse drone echoes the room. Blinking my eyes one final time, to remove any trace of mistiness, I raise my head and give him my full attention.
‘… far safer to allow the Conclave to investigate the truth of these claims. I volunteer to lead the effort.’
Oh, I bet you do! I open my mouth to object, but Orthriel gets there first.
‘Leilani has been chosen for this task, Lord Astrophel. You’d do well to consider Starborn magic flows in her veins. She possesses qualities no one else can boast.’ Orthriel’s halo flares, a reminder they could manipulate their Star-Aether and blind Astrophel at this proximity.
Though I’m grateful for the intervention, it’s hard to accept Orthriel’s words. How can I reunite feuding realms, summit an unscalable mountain, and retrieve a magical relic so many have sought and failed to find? Stars, I couldn’t even escape the city.
But I have to convince my father that I can. That I’m more than a liability. That I can save Estelia – or at least try.
‘Leilani won’t be going anywhere.’ My father scrapes his chair back again and rises. ‘We’ll return to the ceremonies. We’ve kept our guests waiting long enough.’
‘Radiance,’ Izarius says.
My father halts in the doorway.
‘The hour is late. If the ceremony is conducted now…’ He spreads his hands. ‘To bind under waning moons bodes ill for the union’s future fruitfulness.’
Yes! I could kiss Izarius.
But when my father turns to face us, he’s scowling. ‘The binding will go ahead as planned.’
My mother shuffles from the table, places a wizened hand on my father’s forearm. ‘I would not have our child suffer as we have suffered, my lord. The odds are already against them. Let us wait until the next Flowering Moons. Grant them their best chance of producing living heirs.’
A pained, tender look passes between my parents. The ghosts of six lost children shadow their faces.
The sick feeling I had in the Reliquary when I crossed that ghoulish cabinet returns. Along with the memories of the screams, the blood, the foul smoke.
My father blinks. A muscle ticks in his jaw. ‘Very well, we postpone for a sunring.’
Astrophel pales. He doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment.
‘Izarius, return to the Watching Chamber and issue a proclamation. Claim you misread the stars, invent some impediment to the binding in the astral charts. Tell them that’s what we’ve been discussing here. I don’t want word of this letter breathed to anyone beyond these walls.’
Izarius slips out and I exhale.
My mother catches my eye as she returns to her seat, just barely inclines her head in my direction. I whisper her a silent vote of thanks.
‘I only wish the succession could be retracted and deferred as well,’ my father mutters as he too resumes his seat, a metallic harshness in his voice. ‘You’re more cunning than I’ve given you credit for, daughter.’
The hatred in his eyes is an icicle through my heart. Still, so far, so good. I’ve managed to delay the binding. Before Orthriel handed me that letter, it would have been enough.
It’s not enough now.
I want more than a half-life in the shadows, subsisting on paltry crumbs of bitter-won approval. Reviled in secret, scarcely tolerated in public. Noelani’s letter lets me imagine a life where I can earn people’s respect. Perhaps even their love.
I can’t let go of that dream. Not now I’ve let myself hope.
‘Father, shouldn’t we at least discuss fulfilling Noelani’s requests?’
‘You’ve read this letter?’ he says, brandishing its pages.
I nod.
‘Then you’ve taken leave of your senses if you think for one minute I’ll agree to its demands.
’ He throws the letter on the table. ‘You’d have us entreat them for help?
Never! We will never again grovel to them, not while I draw breath.
I remember my great-grandfather’s tales of the Plunderings, his memories of Outrealmers pillaging our lands, slaughtering whoever got in their way.
Of a time before the Barriers were erected and the Purity Treaty signed, before crossbreeding was finally outlawed in all four quarters and the sterilisation of mongrels enforced, so the sanctity of bloodlines could be preserved.
His relief at the moment when we were finally free – safe – from them. ’
‘But didn’t we also invade the enemy realms, in search of a cure?’ My voice sounds reedy; I hate the quaver in it.
He gives me a look that could curdle milk. ‘You will go nowhere with infidels and savages, I forbid it!’
‘I don’t like this either.’ I muster strength I don’t feel into my voice. ‘I don’t trust our enemies any more than you.’
The mention of the enemy races spreads a shiver in my blood.
I’m not lying – I don’t trust them an inch.
It’s a reflex to hate them, an instinct as natural as breathing.
It’s all I’ve ever been taught. But there’s also a thrill there, a fascination I can’t deny.
Answers. I’ve always felt the enemy races hold answers.
Ever since I first saw that portrait of the Elemagi. Answers about what I am, why I’m here.
‘You’ve read Noelani’s letter. I can’t retrieve the lost sceptre on my own. It will require members from all four races to re-enact the Blood Bond.’
My mother sighs. ‘Blood rites, Lili? But Shadow Lore’s so dangerous.’
‘If we do nothing, we’ll be dead anyway. The wards can’t hold.’
The words come out sharper than I intended. My mother’s face crumples. She coughs again. I start forwards, but Astrophel is already pouring a goblet of water for her.
My father slams his fist on the table. ‘We will never ally with those traitors!’
I know he hates to be reminded of the horrors lurking beyond Meissa’s walls, that he rules a dying realm. Still, I didn’t expect this. I thought, I hoped… I was a fool to hope.
‘Do not challenge me on this.’ His face flushes. ‘It will not end well for you.’
‘Hyperion, I—’ My mother reaches for him again, but can’t catch her breath. Her words are swallowed by another fit of wet coughing, so violent the muscles bulge on her neck. I flinch with each new spasm.
Astrophel’s face is more pinched than ever. ‘Estelia can never make peace with those rats!’ He’s trembling with rage.