Chapter 22
Kyor is lying. He has to be. I can’t think of a single reason in the world why he would actually help me. Send me into a forest full of hungry dire wolves? Absolutely. Throw me into the path of a speeding carriage? Again yes. But help me with anything? No.
And yet I head to the guards’ temple all the same.
Of course, there’s a good chance the door was somewhere in that kitchen and Kyor was left chuckling to himself the moment he sent me on this wild goose chase, but if I can’t find a way in through the temple, then I’ll just go down to the kitchen later, once the cooks have left, and have a proper look around.
As I make my way across the battle yard towards the white stone building, the sound of his laugh echoes in my memory, stirring my hatred to a new level.
What must it be like to laugh so freely?
To know that whatever happens, life will always be one big party.
He’s never known hunger. Never known suffering.
And it’s not like there’s any real chance of him dying in this thing.
The king just wouldn’t allow it. I’ll admit that the fact he knew the cook’s name caught me by surprise, but there’s bound to be a reason for that.
Something he gains from pretending to be friends with the staff. Better portion sizes, probably.
I do my best to quash all thoughts of the prince as I reach the temple and push the wooden doors open.
This is not a temple to Etta alone; it’s a temple to all the Gods. It makes sense given that space in the High Hold arcs is limited. If they put in a temple for every God, there wouldn’t be any training space left for the guards.
As I step inside and am hit by a blast of light from the stained-glass windows, I see a figure seated a few rows ahead.
I don’t want to disturb someone’s prayer by wandering around searching for doors, so I hover, unsure if I should stay.
But just as I go to leave, the praying man stands and turns to exit himself.
‘Commander Zelle, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ I murmur, voice low in deference to our location.
‘You’re not. I was just leaving,’ he says gruffly as he walks towards me.
My body tenses, recalling the thinly veiled threats from Holden in the cave.
Does Zelle also want me dead? If he does, then now, alone in a temple with no witnesses, would be a perfect time.
I shift back, offering him a clear route through to the door, yet as he reaches me, he stops.
My heart squeezes as he tilts his head to the side, studying me.
I do my best to ignore the row of blades strapped to his belt, any of which could run me through within a heartbeat.
‘You’re Elyas and Reeva’s daughter, aren’t you? ’
Hearing their first names spoken aloud causes a throbbing in my chest I couldn’t have anticipated. He is the first one to call them by name, rather than a spat Kultavaris.
‘You knew my parents?’ I ask.
‘I did. I’m sorry to hear they passed. And for what happened before.’
The throb transforms as my back molars grind together. Such a simple phrase for the utter destruction of my family.
I change the subject. ‘I was told there was a route to the library through here. I was hoping I could visit.’
Zelle smiles, a small but knowing twist of his lips, as he dips his chin in a nod.
‘Yes, beside the altar to Aitara. But I hope I will see you in the battle yard soon. Come early enough and we can have some training time alone,’ he proposes casually.
It’s an extraordinary offer, and I find myself gaping at him.
‘Your parents were phenomenal fighters. And good people. I’m sure they taught you well.’
‘When they were able to,’ I respond truthfully.
Again, he offers another of those smiles, as if he understands everything I’m not saying. ‘Well, I will leave you to your books. See you soon, Lady Kultavaris.’
He walks out, leaving me staring after him. I am no lady, not anymore, and he knows it. What does his use of my former title mean?
Is it possible that someone else in High Hold agrees that what happened to us was unjust? That I might have another ally or, at least, not another enemy? The thought is strangely comforting.
The moment he is out the door, I head to the altar of Aitara, marked with seven stars – one for her and six for her children.
If I had the skill, I’d have drawn stars, rather than dots, on my face for her mark, as they do at weddings.
For now, I offer her a brief prayer of thanks before continuing around the altar to where, just like Zelle said, there is a door. A smile forms on my lips.
With every step down, the aroma of leather and paper grows, as does my excitement. I know I’ve come here for a reason, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a wander first. After all, something tells me Zara isn’t a reader; I should be safe down here.
A gasp escapes me when I finally arrive on the library floor and am greeted by rows and rows of books on wooden shelves.
Some are cloth-bound, others leather-bound, and a feeling of awe takes hold.
With all the years away from them, I forgot how calming it was to be surrounded by books.
At least I know where I can escape to now between the trials.
The issue I have is working out where the hell I’m going to get the answers I need.
The area of the library under the court was always filled with staff – archivists, curators, scribes …
people who could tell you where to find what you needed.
But I’ve no idea how I’d even get to that side of the library, let alone how long it would take me.
As I’m trying to work out what to do, an impatient male voice cuts through the quiet.
‘Have you written that down? Did you hear what I said? He took the Sannings’ magic. That’s who they were. Sannings. The first men stripped.’
My attention is piqued. I’m not sure who these Sannings are, and I’ve never heard of people by that name being stripped of magic, but then, I never heard about Estel and her sister either.
I follow the voices to a seated area, where a young woman is sitting at a desk with an elderly man.
His eyes are opaque, a pearlescent pink-blue sheen covering his irises and pupils.
‘Did you get all that down?’ He’s talking to a young woman with dark skin and warm blonde hair shaved close to her head. She’s dressed in a green robe and is scribbling in a notepad with an inkwell next to it.
‘I did,’ she says softly.
‘If I find out you’ve missed anything from here, there’ll be consequences,’ the blind man snaps.
‘Would you like me to repeat what you just told me?’ she says. Her voice is soft and calm. It’s certainly not how I’d speak if someone were talking to me like that.
‘Fine. Yes.’
‘“In the days after the Great Goddess created the Earth—”’
‘The Great Goddess Aitara! Listen, Caroline! That should say the Great Goddess Aitara.’
‘I shall amend that now,’ Caroline replies, dutifully revising her notes before continuing.
‘“In the days after the Great Goddess Aitara created the world, she birthed her six children. But the world was too big and lonely for the six of them alone, and so they created man. The Gods decided that the humans would have a share of their powers and distributed them among them, gifted for one life only, to be returned to the Gods via Mortidem upon death, and bestowed upon another at birth. But only six of the seven Gods agreed to this. Sanrott, God of Land and Sea, was angered by his siblings’ and mother’s choice, and as the centuries passed and his bitterness grew, he began stealing the magic back.
The Sannings were the most isolated and nomadic of the humans, marked as different with their pale skin, pale blond hair, and peridot eyes.
Their lives were so hidden in the forests that even the Gods did not notice what Sanrott was doing until it was too late and he had stripped the Sannings of their powers entirely. ”’
A cold shiver runs down my spine. It is a compelling story, and her delivery is captivating, but I don’t have time for fairy tales – particularly not ones that are borderline blasphemy. I’m looking for answers and, hopefully, someone to help me find them, so I move into the woman’s line of sight.
As Caroline notices me, a smile – one which looks remarkably like gratitude – rises to her face.
‘I’m sorry, Rohan,’ she says, closing the notepad. ‘We’ve got to finish for today. I’ve other people I need to go and scribe for now. But I can meet you tomorrow?’
A grumbling sound clears from the man’s throat. ‘Already? But I haven’t even got to how Aitara and the other Gods sealed Sanrott up!’
Caroline’s smile flickers. ‘I’m sure we’ll get to that soon.’
She offers me a glance, and I know exactly what she’s saying.
He’s crazy.
Everyone knows that making up falsehoods about the Gods is a surefire way of turning them against you, but then, as he looks close to eighty and they’ve already taken his sight, I guess he’s not that worried.
‘Can I help take you to the west arc?’ she asks as she stands and helps Rohan gather his things. For a moment, I’m shocked by just how tall she is. Taller than me by a head and a half at least. As I try to stop myself from staring, Rohan shrugs her off and grabs the stick by his side.
‘I was walking these halls when you came in off whatever ship you arrived on.’
I stiffen and watch as Caroline does the same, though when she looks back to me, she simply rolls her eyes.
I need no further assurances to know that Rohan is an arsehole.
A blasphemous arsehole. Although apparently an independent one.
Despite his age and lack of sight, he takes his books and strides confidently away from us.
Only when I can no longer hear his footsteps down the hall do I speak.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.’
‘Oh, you didn’t. Trust me, I was hoping for a reason to stop.’
There’s a calmness that radiates from Caroline that is so different from the Rettlings I’ve mixed with over the last twenty-four hours. Even the lovely ones. Probably because she’s not worrying if she’s going to survive. It’s refreshing to see.
‘Do you work here?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. ‘No. Normally I work in people’s homes when I’m scribing, and sometimes in the palace or court.
Basically, wherever I’m required. It’s just with Rohan that I have to work down here.
His family have had enough of hearing his stories, and unsurprisingly, people aren’t too keen to hear him in other parts of the library. ’
‘He doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying, does he?’
‘Very much. It’s interesting what people believe, isn’t it?’
Her eyes drift away, and when they return to me, there’s a strange intensity in her gaze. Then it’s gone.
‘I’m not sure you’re going to find anybody who actually works here in this part of the library,’ she says. ‘But I can try to help. I’ve spent a scary amount of time down here over the last five years.’
‘Thank you. I’m Rose,’ I say, stretching out my hand. She looks a similar age to me. Perhaps older, around twenty-six. ‘And you’re Caroline?’
‘Yeah. Nice to meet you. I’m guessing since you came down from the barracks’ arc that you’re a Rettling?’
‘Yeah.’ The word leaves my lungs with a sigh. ‘I am.’
From the way she presses her lips together, I know she wants to ask questions about the Retterheld, but after this morning, I’m not entirely sure I can deal with them.
‘I know you’ve only been here for a couple of days, but have you had a chance to get to know many of the others?’ she asks softly, eyes apprehensive.
‘A few,’ I tell her. ‘Why? Do you know someone who was accepted?’
She lifts her thumb to her mouth and bites the nail. ‘I’m not sure. I have a couple of friends from home who I think may have gone in for the offering.’
‘Where are you from? I might recognise the names.’
‘The Eastern Isles?’ she says hopefully.
A hollowness consumes my stomach and heart, and all I can think about is Coulter’s face as the priestesses dragged him away past Jai’s lifeless body. Though I try to keep the horror off my face, from the way Caroline’s hand flies up to her mouth, I evidently didn’t do a great job.
‘Oh God. This is why I didn’t want to know,’ she says, covering her face as she shakes her head. ‘Forget I asked anything. Please.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’
‘It’s fine. It’s better if I don’t know. Honestly, it’s been a mission to avoid people talking about it these last few days. I don’t know why I even asked. And I doubt they’d have been stupid enough to enter.’ She winces. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to imply … I wasn’t saying—’
‘It’s fine, trust me. I get it.’
An apology rises in her eyes and she smiles softly. ‘Look, I actually have two hours before I’m needed upstairs to listen to another old man drone on about all the crazy things he believes he saw in battle, so why don’t I help you look for the books you’re after?’
‘Really? That’d be amazing,’ I reply, grateful for the change of subject, though Jai and Coulter’s faces remain at the back of my mind.
‘I wonder if there are any books on ceremonial daggers? Specifically the one that the priestess used today for the vow. It obviously had some magic imbued in it and I was just wondering if I could find out about it.’
‘Well, I’m no expert on daggers,’ she says, ‘or priestesses either, but I’m sure we can find something. Let’s have a look.’