CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
LYRIANA
We weren’t leaving for another hour to begin our journey to Numeria, but I was too anxious to sit idly and wait. By the late afternoon we’d be in the capital, in the Emperor’s Palace. I’d be in the same place as Jules.
I paced back and forth across the room, letting the remaining embers in the fireplace die out. Rain pattered against the windows. Outside, a gryphon roared in agitation. There was a sudden, sharp knock on the door.
“Come in,” I called, not bothering to ask who it was. Dario was almost always the one at my door, standing guard, or announcing guests.
My lock unclicked, and the door creaked open. A few seconds passed, filled with silence. I stepped forward, expecting to see the soturion’s figure come into view, but the doorway remained eerily empty.
“Dario?”
The door slammed shut, and my skin turned ice cold.
The fire burned out as every light in my room and outside vanished, leaving me shrouded in complete darkness. A single golden Valalumir star floated above me, spinning in a slow circle. Then there were two, then three, until the entire ceiling filled with stars.
“Mercurial,” I breathed. I took a step back, turning in a circle. “Mercurial, show yourself.”
His bell-like laugh cut through the darkness until the stars blew out, one by one, each vanishing with a pop. “So very demanding, my remembered Goddess,” he purred.
“Demanding?” I seethed. “I am demanding? How about the demands you’ve made of me? Or the fact that you’ve vanished for a month, offering no guidance on how to move forward.”
“No guidance?” he asked. “No guidance!” The fireplace filled with crackling flames, and Mercurial’s body appeared, lounging on the chaise, his long blue legs crossed at the ankle. His feet were clad in golden sandals that laced to his knees, and the dark whorls across his skin shimmered around the diamond in each center. “I spoke to your remade lord. I told him to leave. But he didn’t listen now, did he?” He inspected his fingernails, and blew across them. Suddenly, they were painted with a gleaming metallic blue, one several shades darker than his current skin color.
“An order to leave here isn’t guidance. And you didn’t speak to me. The one you made a deal with! The one with a Godsdamned light in her heart!” I pressed my hand to my chest.
The Afeya sat up, his eyebrows narrowed. “Yes, well you’ve been a little difficult to get into contact with lately.”
“I thought Afeya could do anything.”
He tapped his feet against the carpet beneath him and leaned forward, gesturing around the room. “Believe it or not, I couldn’t do this. So, I did the next best thing. I talked to the previously not-Lord. And I warned him. Much good as it did.”
“But you’re here now?” I shook my head.
“Yes, well I could get here now. The nearness of the big event means Imperator Hart has the potential to make mistakes. He’s already made one. Your wards are down.”
“Wards can keep an Afeya out?” I said in disbelief. I’d had wards placed on my soturion apartment that he always walked through. But I quietly pocketed that one detail. That Imperator Hart was making mistakes. That meant he was nervous. It also meant he was more dangerous.
“He is nervous,” Mercurial confirmed. “He should be. As far as wards keeping me out, that depends on their structure.” The Afeya stood up, his hands in front of him, his fingers stretched. “It’s like a web, you see.” He turned his wrists. “Lots of conflicting contracts and bargains. Coming to you sooner was a conflict of contract. And I don’t engage in those. The First Messenger of Her Royal Highness, Queen Ishtara of the Star Court, High Lady of the Night Lands, never breaks a contract. Ever.”
“Isn’t that how you came to exist in the first place? Breaking an oath?” My stomach turned, uneasy with him here. And even more uneasy with what he was insinuating. Because after all we’d been through, all of our interactions, he still scared me. Still made me uneasy. But not as uneasy as I felt about the ability of my enemies to get in his way or overpower him. It was only months ago that Aemon trapped him in the Allurian Pass.
But I couldn’t tell if it was his own Afeyan Queen with the conflicting contract, or Imperator Hart. Both possibilities left me with a sense of dread.
“You know,” he said, his hips undulating as he walked toward me, “the Afeya don’t take too kindly to the Lumerians that forced them into such choices, reminding them of such. Nor do they bargain with those entering into other deals. Deals that derail their initial agreements. Especially when those deals are contracts signed by blood.”
“Considering you have so many plans for me, you could have helped us to avoid this mess.”
“Helped?” He smirked, and held out a hand. A silver comb materialized and he began to slide its teeth through his long black locks. “We’ve known each other for some time now. You should know as well as anyone, I don’t simply help. ”
“Oh, trust me. I know that all too well. When I’ve needed you these past few months, you were nowhere.”
“For most of that time, I was a prisoner, trapped by Moriel.”
“You know about Ereshya’s shard,” I said.
Twirling his hair around the comb, he twisted the section into a tight coil. “I’m aware of its existence, and location, yes.”
“Then you know I entered this deal to keep it from him. And her.”
“Ah. Yes. Keep the shard away from two evil people. By handing it over to two other, different evil people.” He clapped. “Bravo. Wonderful plan. Except …” The comb vanished. The ceiling darkened and filled again with glittering stars. “I need you to claim the red shard. The one that actually gives you your power. The one that will not be complete until it’s in your hands. The one that’s missing part of its light because it’s inside you, beating and pulsing and waiting for more. Waiting for you.”
“You had your chance, Mercurial.” I threw my hands up. “You were freed. You came and saw us. You could have said something. Told us what we needed to do,” my voice rose, my anger growing. “You could have given us the information we needed to know over a month ago. Done something so we could have avoided capture, so we could do what you wanted. You knew the Imperator was looking for us. Knew he was close.”
“Knew?” Mercurial asked, his voice dangerously low. “Knew.” His eyes narrowed into slits, his neck stretching side to side, undulating like a snake.
There was a hiss in the corner of the room, an actual nahashim, sneaking out to spy.
Mercurial didn’t break eye contact with me as his arm shot out, his finger pointing at the snake. There was a flash of light, and a scream.
I turned to see the nahashim’s eyes were sealed shut. Its body stood tall, shaking, trembling as it made a pathetic sound, fighting against its sudden blindness.
I sucked in a breath, and turned back to the Afeya.
“Do not insult me,” Mercurial said, “by suggesting what I do, or do not know. I know everything. Everything! And despite what a burden it is, it doesn’t mean I get to share it all with you.” He stepped forward, and I took a step back. “Do you think it is my job to hold your hand and lay out every fucking step for you to accomplish what must be done? I have given more to you than anyone I’ve ever bargained with. And you—you, my lady, my remembered Goddess, you have gotten the most off-track of them all.”
My heart was pounding too quickly, sweat beaded on my palms. “Fine,” I said, my voice shaking. “I’m the worst you’ve ever dealt with. What do I do now?”
“Oh no, no, no,” he sang, pointing a finger to the ceiling. “That’s a question. And I’m afraid you’ve run out of favors to offer me in exchange for answers. Especially since you are nowhere near completing the one thing I asked you to do. Typical of the most frustrating Lumerian I’ve ever dealt with. If you had stayed put in Bamaria, if you had not been so easily deceived, and waited for my directions, you would be a Goddess by now. You would be powerful enough to draw on the link you share with Asherah without it killing you. Without destruction. There’d be no question of Moriel, or Ereshya or even Godsdamned Shiviel getting their hands on a shard. You’d have your precious Jules in your arms.”
“And where would my sisters be? Maybe I couldn’t save Morgana … but Meera? She’d be under Moriel’s compulsion by now. And let’s not forget that you’re lucky I did show up in the Allurian Pass when I did.” My voice shook with fear. But I had to remember, he needed me. He needed my power. I had something he wanted. I’d done what he couldn’t. I’d found the first Valalumir shard in centuries, and I’d helped free him.
Mercurial glared, clearly reading my mind.
“I’m right, aren’t I? Wasn’t it the power of the shard’s presence that freed you from Moriel’s prison?”
He leaned back, looking down his nose at me. “Her Royal Highness, my Queen would have come for me. Aemon’s no God yet. He isn’t Moriel … he’s still mortal. Luckily for you and your sisters. The only thing that has saved you thus far is the very thing that could kill you.” He tilted his chin. “Has his formerly not-lordship told you about his little research project at the library? Has he mentioned all the scrolls he’s read, or the worry that keeps him up at night?”
“He’s researching Shiviel. What we did to him.”
Mercurial shook his head. “Is that what he told you?” he sang. “That’s not what he’s doing.”
I froze. I’d seen him stay back each night to talk to the librarians, seen him slide note after note toward them, lists of titles. I’d wanted to ask him about it a dozen times, but I couldn’t. And he’d never freely offered me any information. If anything, he’d gone out of his way to conceal the titles in his possession. My throat tightened. More secrets, more things he was keeping from me.
“Ah,” Mercurial said. “He hasn’t.” He pouted. “Looks like I hit a sore spot.”
“You know what he’s researching?” I asked.
“Of course I know. Who do you think told him what to research? What your little ability to call on kashonim with Asherah is called?”
“You told him? The first night you came to see him here?”
Mercurial grinned like a cat.
Rhyan had been with me at the end of the night. He’d told me Mercurial had come by but he’d never mentioned that they discussed my kashonim. He could have—we’d had privacy—the one and only time we had it.
But he’d said nothing.
“There’s a special word for what you can do,” Mercurial said. “ Rakashonim. Your kashonim.” He snapped his fingers, and there was another flash of light. A second nahashim cried out in pain, its black scaly body flopping onto the floor. “Kashonim,” Mercurial said slowly, like I was a child, “is taking on and absorbing all of the power of your lineage. A false lineage created by force, by the letting, and mixing of blood between you and those who came before, those who trained you, and those who trained them. When it’s yours, and yours alone … it means just that. Rakashonim. Your own personal lineage. Who you once were. Who you still are. It’s calling on the full power of your soul.”
“My kashonim with Asherah,” I said. “I already know all of this.”
Mercurial laughed. “Are you sure? It drains you, doesn’t it, when you call on it? And not like normal kashonim. How could it be? Strong as your previously not-lord is, and … my most muscular, reinstated lord is very strong, one of the strongest in the Empire. But he is nothing compared to the strength of a God. Or … a Goddess. How else did you defeat the Imperator’s nine nahashim on your own?”
“Asherah,” I said.
Mercurial nodded.
“But it’s dangerous,” I said carefully, avoiding phrasing it as a question.
“Not just dangerous. It’s volatile. Deadly. Especially for you.”
I groaned. “For God’s sake! You’re not going to tell me what it means. Or tell me what to do to stop all of this. I assume you at least want me to get away from the Imperator with the orange shard, so I can track down the red.”
“No. I never told you to go after the orange shard.”
“But you would have,” I said. “I’m going to go after all of them, aren’t I?”
Mercurial shrugged. “It’s a fair guess.”
“Then help me! Help me get the orange shard so I can claim the red.”
“I told you. You are out of favors. I will not break your contract with Imperator Hart.”
“Then get out!” I yelled.
He tilted his head to the side, refusing to move, his eyes dancing with mischief. “You Guardians always think you’re in charge. That you can defy the Council of Forty-Four, that you can do whatever you want—steal lights from Heaven, break them into pieces, drown empires, and still make demands of the Afeya. No. I leave when I want to.”
“That’s always it! What you want. When you want it. The power you reference is gone—was gone thousands of years ago. And the Council of Forty-Four? What they do even do now? They might as well be a myth.”
“A myth? A myth! They are no more myth than you are, Asherah —than the Godsdamned light inside your mortal little heart. You would not stand where you are today if not for the Council of Forty-Four! They are the ones who ordered Canturiel to make the light! They are the ones who began the war with the akadim. Who moved the Valalumir to the Hall of Records. Who determined there should be seven Guardians. You don’t remember? You were nothing before they selected you. Before they banished you. Before they cursed you! And trust me, if you don’t believe anything else I am saying. They are still watching your every move. And still very much in power—when they deign to take action.”
“Sounds like Afeya to me.”
He laughed. “Do not insult me.”
“Fine, they’re not a myth. They’re still in power. And if that’s the case,” I looked up at the ceiling, “I hope they’re enjoying the show! Just as much as you are.” My anger was growing at his nonsense, at his riddles, at his refusal to offer true assistance. “I’m not dealing with the Council now am I? I’m dealing with you. And you sure have a talent for cherry picking when you’ll help.”
His anger flared into his aura. The flames in the fireplace extinguished with a groaning hiss, then came back to life. “You think I am the one pulling the strings? The puppet master in control of this play, Asherah ? I am not. I am merely a player, a member of the orchestra forced to play the notes I am commanded. I cannot be any more helpful than I am. And if you do not find a way to fulfill our bargain, I swear to you, you will burn from the inside out.”
My body warmed. Heat rising up my legs, and out through my arms. I could feel it rushing through my body, like the nahashim, aware of every place they touched when I’d been examined. Sweat beaded my forehead, and I stared down at my green dress. The bodice began to loosen, the laces in the back sliding open until the Valalumir star between my breasts appeared. It had been pale gold for weeks, not heating or flaring since Kane. But suddenly, the lines darkened with black, then white, then red and back to gold.
“Mercurial,” I shouted. “What are you doing?”
The gold outline of the star vanished from my skin, as if the Valalumir had never existed, as if the contract were gone. The heat intensified. Hotter and hotter.
I stumbled back, the pain excruciating. I bit down on my lip, sweat forming all over my skin, my stomach twisting, my breath coming short. I was starting to panic. No. No, I was panicking. The pain. Fuck. Fuck! My knees gave out as I sank to the floor, tears rolling down my eyes until I couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed.
“Mercurial!”
The star on my chest was gone. The skin had burned off, and it was just flames now, just fire, roaring from inside of me.
“Mercurial!”
“The red shard. The Red Ray of Light. Asherah swore to protect it. Until she didn’t. And it was whole, and it was pure, until Auriel fell. And then the light was crystal. And it could have been whole still. But Auriel took something from it. He took the last bit that existed, the last piece of pure light, pure power, pure Valalumir, and he put it inside you.”
“I know, I know!” I pleaded. “Please. Mercurial! It’s so hot! It’s … fuck!” I looked to the door, contemplating calling out to Dario.
“You think he can help you? He can’t even hear you. Now you look at me because I made a deal with you. I returned the light. I gave it back to you. And all you had to do was the very thing you said you would do. Give me your word. Fulfill the oath of a Goddess born over a thousand years ago. And if you didn’t, this would be your punishment. I would burn you from the inside out.”
“But I’m not done!” I shouted. “I swear. I will claim the red shard. I will! Once I get Jules out. Once I get her back … I’ll leave the capital. I’ll figure it out. I swear! I’ll fulfill my oath. But please,” I cried. “Please.” I fell to my knees, tears rolling down my face, a scream trapped in my throat as the flames grew out of me.
Mercurial snapped his fingers.
The heat vanished, the flames gone. Instead, there was a red light flowing from my chest—far too bright for me to look at it. But as I looked back at Mercurial, he’d fallen to his knees, his posture mimicking mine.
A seven-pointed star, a Valalumir, was glowing on his blue body. A reflection of the light exploding out of me.
“That was a reminder,” he said. “Not a punishment.”
My chest rose and fell in rapid succession, the light shimmering against his own heart as my body shook.
“Could have … fooled … me,” I gasped.
“I warned you that you wouldn’t want to know what I’d do if you failed. That wasn’t it. That …” His violet eyes locked with mine, “was simply a taste of what the Rakashonim can do to you. Or to others if you push it out. When you call on Asherah, you’re calling on a Goddess’s power. On a Goddess’s strength. You’re taking it inside of you, and using it. But you are in a mortal body.” Mercurial shook his head. “You’ve done well so far. You’ve survived each call on her power. On your power. The true power of your soul. But … you are not strong enough yet to sustain it. And even worse, you don’t even know when you’re calling on it. You think you can heal now? That you can take your sister’s visions? Remove your lover’s exhaustion, and pain?” He clicked his tongue. “ You can’t. That’s the light. Not you. That’s Rakashonim. If you do not claim the red shard, your body will fail and the light inside of you will either destroy you, or it will destroy everything, and everyone around you.”
He said you had the potential to unleash more power and destruction than anyone in the Empire ever has.
My lip trembled. “You … you handed me the chest plate. The very thing to unlock this.”
Mercurial’s eyes narrowed to snake-like slits. “I did.”
I threw my head in my hands. “Why?”
“Someone had to do something. The Valalumir was never meant for this world. And as long as it remains shattered, broken, and unreturned … you’ll be cursed. In every single life. The Council has ensured it. So, play your little games with Imperator Hart. It matters not to me. I have made several arrangements now, been forced to renege on several promises, all because of you. I will come to collect my debt. And you better pray to your Gods,” he laughed, “you are successful. I told Lord Rhyan a month ago, you’re running out of time, my remembered Goddess. You are the fire. Act like it. Remember it. Control the flame before it consumes you. Before it consumes all of us.”
And he vanished, leaving me gasping for breath, my entire body still aching and hot, as I fell to the floor.