Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Ophelia
The next day, I cornered Dax while passing through a narrow stretch of craggy mountain peaks, their jagged edges reaching into the clouds.
I waited until he’d been switched onto Cypherion’s mare, Erini, to ride with him—which was comical considering how large the two of them were—since I didn’t want others overhearing.
“We haven’t spoken much,” I began, inhaling the crisp air and letting Sapphire’s easy pace relax me.
“You’ve been busy with your interrogations.” There was heated defense in those words, mirrored in Dax’s hooded hazel eyes.
That made me like him more.
“Should I have done otherwise?”
Dax thought for a moment, then ran a hand over his shaved brown hair in defeat. “I suppose not.”
Cypherion exchanged a silent smile with me, cataloging every movement of this Engrossian.
“Dax, I’ll be honest with you—”
“Why?” he interrupted, and I balked. “I don’t mean to discount the offer, but I have to ask. Why be honest with us? Barrett has a wishful heart—hard to believe after the life he’s faced—but I’m a skeptic. So I have to know—why bring us with you at all? Why trust us?”
“I don’t trust you,” I reaffirmed. “But I want to. I want to believe that while a lot of unfair fates have befallen me, there is still good in the world. I want to hope.”
“Because she’s a good person who has the weight of a clan on her shoulders,” Cypherion added. “She’s trying to see circumstances from every side before blocking out possibilities.” He looked to me, understanding and encouragement bundled in one slight nod. “As a good ruler does.”
That had me sitting higher in the saddle as Sapphire ascended an incline between two sloped walls.
“So, Dax, I want to trust you. But I need you to give me some reason that makes you two trustworthy.”
Dax’s eyes stayed on Barrett, thirty feet ahead. He watched his body sway easily with Elektra’s movements as he rode with Jezebel, muttering in her ear the entire time. My sister waved him away like a pesky fly.
“He’s good, you know.” He adjusted the place where his dark green leather sleeves met his manacles, tucking the metal away. Unlike the prince, who wore loose, casual clothing, Dax dressed like a soldier. Ready for combat. “He’s not like his mother.”
“How can I believe that just because you say it?” Never mind the affinity gnawing at my gut after my conversation with Barrett last night. Wanting to trust them wasn’t enough.
Dax continued tracing the chains around his wrists, grumbling something beneath his breath.
Then, in a soft voice, he said, “He had to kill three of our own guards to get here.” My hands tightened on the reins.
“The queen—I think she knew what he was planning. Or suspected him of something. She had me sequestered.”
“Why you?” It was a gasp, almost, but I kept my eyes on the outline of the mountains stretching against blue sky in the distance. The clouds brushing their peaks.
“She thought he was going to run.” Dax’s eyes narrowed, wary fury breaking through. “And she knew he wouldn’t go without me.”
“He killed them to get you out,” I finished for him.
And with that, I saw a bit more of myself in the prince.
That inability to leave behind someone you loved.
The carnal need to shield. And I realized, just because he was raised under a wicked regime, did not mean he himself was wicked.
Barrett’s heart beat with hope just as mine yearned to.
If I could crack open all of his actions like this, pick them apart to their barest of bones, the motives were not much different than my own. Protect the one he loved and ensure a peaceful future for his people—one with as little bloodshed as possible.
“Why did she care that he ran?” Cypherion asked. “If she truly only used him as a pawn and didn’t share plans with him, why would it matter?”
“She needs an heir,” I said, but it didn’t sound convincing, even to my own ears.
“Her Majesty does not fare well with loss,” Dax said. “The only time we’d tried to leave before, she locked Barrett up for a week. He hadn’t seen her in two months before then, but when something disappears from her—or threatens to—she loses any essence of control.”
I pondered that, wondering how it tied into her desire for me above all else and what her true motives could be.
Despite that, though, as Dax’s story worked its way into my thoughts on the remainder of that afternoon’s journey, a small piece of me was growing to understand these two Engrossians.
Stars winked into existence on the second night, and I wanted to imagine they were waving good fortune to us for what waited tomorrow. That they weren’t sowing discord along the path of my future.
We’d rest tonight, spend a few hours traveling to the outpost where the Engrossians were rumored to be stationed, assess their camp, and strike at nightfall.
“Any idea what they have in store for us?” I asked Vale as I sat next to her around the mystlight lantern, looking to the heavens. Everyone had gathered to review tomorrow’s plan once more.
But it was Erista who answered from across the way. “I bet they’re quiet in preparation of the Apex Moon.”
“The what?” Tol paused his writing in the journal propped on his knee, turning curious eyes to the Soulguider.
“Starsearchers don’t much believe in lunar lore the way Soulguiders do,” Vale explained. “The Apex Moon shouldn’t affect our sessions.”
“Interesting,” Erista observed, head cocked with that feline gaze.
Whatever she was thinking, though, she didn’t say.
Instead, she turned to Tolek. “The Apex Moon is the night of the month when the connection with the Goddess of Death, Artale, is the strongest. The souls venturing home that night find it easier to pass through the barriers between life and death, and our predictions are clearer—essentially she pulls back an opaque curtain to us.”
“How does the connection with her work?” Collins, one of the warriors Danya had chosen to come with us, asked. He was a large man, twice her age at least, with thick brown hair to his shoulders and an eye-crinkling smile that softened my nerves every time he flashed it to me.
Like right now. Despite the eerie topic of Artale, I was lighter when I grinned back.
“We are mere conduits. Deliverers of her children back home to her, no matter what realm they end up in after ours.” The mystlight lantern seemed to glow brighter as Erista spoke. “The network of streams through our deserts carries them to the afterlife.”
With that responsibility came the premonitions, I knew from my grandmother. Soulguiders were gifted visions of one’s future—particularly feats leading to their demise. Unlike the Starsearchers’ readings, they couldn’t be spoken of.
“And what of Xenique?” I asked after the First Soulguider, now their Angel.
“Xenique was the first with this connection, born of unique circumstance. But we, like the other warriors, honor her above all else. Without Xenique, we would not be blessed with the responsibility of guiding souls home, despite Artale’s power.
” Erista spoke slowly and chose her words carefully, clearly avoiding the private pieces of lore.
“She was the driver behind everything we are today, breaking barriers that were otherwise unchallenged in order to earn her power.”
Cyph spoke up, aiding the Soulguider, “I once read that Xenique obtained the goddess’s blood and it’s been passed down her line since.”
Erista nodded, relief sharpening her attention. “It’s believed some today even share it.”
“But Godsblood is the rarest substance on Gallantia,” Esmond said.
Even more rare than the Angelblood twisting through my veins.
“Does your family share it?” Jezebel asked Erista, pointedly avoiding my gaze.
“No.” She shook her head, curls bouncing. “My family doesn’t lead back to the Angels. But if my father is to be believed—which I advise you take every claim he makes lightly—we have a number of Xenique’s artifacts in our trove.”
“You don’t agree?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Every Soulguider claims their family’s heirlooms belonged to the Angel. It’s a point of pride.”
“That must be a warrior trait.” Jezebel laughed, and it warmed my spirit. “I can think of a number of Mystiques who care a bit too much about those things. Or they had before the war.”
“Yes, well, the war changed many things, didn’t it?” I only muttered it, but just to be safe, I glanced up to ensure Malakai hadn’t heard. He was polishing a borrowed sword behind us. Brows drawn low, eyes quiet but thoughts loud.
I tried to tug the Bind, to brush some reassurance against that thread, but it strained. He didn’t react.
Sighing, leaving him to his thoughts, I turned back to the circle, heart a bit heavier.
“I don’t know why legends differ between the moon and stars,” Vale was saying. “It’s as if the fates couldn’t agree on the two.”
“Regardless, Ophelia,” Erista said, “you shouldn’t expect to hear from Meridat regarding that letter you sent until after the Apex Moon passes.”
I’d told them all of the letters I sent to their chancellors last night, begging for alliance in light of the raid. The Engrossians were moving. We were responding. War was looming.
But I hadn’t told them what Barrett said about his mother’s interest in me. With Damien’s ominous warning, I hadn’t figured out how to explain that I thought it all wove together.
“Alvaron will love that you went ahead without his counsel,” Danya had joked, but she’d given her approval.
The others had all agreed that it had to be done. Now we waited for answers, and I pretended not to worry over them.
As the night wore on, the conversation dissolved into a mess of legends between all clans present. Even a few Engrossian tales from Barrett and Dax, though some were reluctant to listen to those.
When the hour turned late, Erista stood to move to her sleeping mat. “May the Angels and Goddess guard your dreams,” she wished us.
“I’m not sure how I feel about the Goddess of Death watching me sleep,” Tolek mumbled to me.
“Neither am I.” But I couldn’t help but laugh at the lighthearted spirit of the evening, despite the gravity of what came next.