Chapter Eleven
I leave the stables, saying goodbye to a hopeful Thestis and a smiling Delroy, and I immediately make my way to the attendant’s wing.
Taking cautions to remain unseen, I slip my remaining sleeping tonics, paired with their anonymous note of instructions, under my fellow night attendants’ doors.
For an attendant named Tali—a beautiful dark-skinned, dark-haired night entertainer—I slip in detailed instructions on how to create the simplest sleeping tonic I could think of.
She shows promise in the arts, and now, she can attempt to at least make something for the attendants to have as a safeguard.
When I finish, I exhale deeply—exhausted, yet content—and head briskly through the corridors toward the atrium.
At least now, I can leave knowing they’ll have supplies to last them a while longer and the means to make more.
As I walk, my fingers won’t stop toying with the icy stone now resting at the base of my throat.
I reach the atrium and pull back the crested wooden doors, revealing a large room filled with paned-ceilings and windows, greenery as far as the eye can see, and statues of the gods. Gray spots me first, and a humored smirk pulls at his lips. It doesn’t take me long to realize why.
Sterling turns around, hands braced on his hips, a lecture waiting in his eyes. “Where have you been? And where is your travel pack?” He sweeps his eyes up and down, looking for the missing item I didn’t think to bring.
“I went to see Delroy. I wanted to say goodbye.” I stand a little straighter and flash an unconvincing smile, not daring to offer any information about my parting gifts to the other attendants—or the fact that I’ve neglected to pack.
Gray tilts his head, a silent laugh dancing on his lips, twirling into his eyes.
“I have her travel pack.” He unfolds his arms and slides it off his shoulders, handing it off to me.
“Here you are,” he says as he places the strap in my hand, his eyes holding mine steady with that quiet amusement. “As requested .”
I flash him an exasperated look of gratitude.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
“See,” I chirp to Sterling after I sling it around my shoulder. “Good to go.”
Sterling, looking unconvinced of my preparedness, hums. “Be that as it may, there is still the matter of Klytis.”
My eyes rove across the room, and I realize Klytis is indeed absent.
Strange.
Klytis is never late—mostly because he can just open portals to and from places as an aether-wielder.
I begin to walk around the room. “Well then, it would appear I am perfectly on time.” I glance over my shoulder and catch Sterling rolling his eyes, and Gray snorting a laugh. A pointed smile tugs at my lips, and I clasp my fingers behind my back and continue strolling.
Standing proud in front of each arched window, surrounded by rose vines, are beautiful white jade sculptures depicting the primary gods—also known as the Canamae, the pillars of our mortal world.
To the left are the male gods: Merikh, god of death and war, Algol, god of trickery and deception; Raffir, god of the harvest and prosperity, as well as luck and fortune, and Astralis, god of the stars and justice.
To the right are the goddesses: Adhara, goddess of love and beauty, and Araceli, goddess of health, fertility, and purity; Saffi, goddess of cunning and knowledge, and Ahlai, the Mother Goddess who oversees all.
I stop in front of the Mother Goddess’s statue.
Gardner’s are said to be Ahlai’s children, and within Eden, the garden oasis city where people go to train to become Gardners, there is a sacred ritual that Blesses those who complete their training and are deemed worthy by the Masters there.
My mother wouldn’t tell me what the ritual was—she was forbidden from it, as all who become Gardners are—but she always said after receiving her Blessing, she never once couldn’t feel the Mother Goddess’s presence within her.
A swirling portal of silver and black appears, and Klytis emerges. I turn back to Ahlai’s statue, press a kiss to my two fingers, and lightly place them at its base, hoping she will share the gesture with my mother.
I waltz back over just in time to hear Sterling chide, “And where have you been?”
Klytis—only a few years older than me—rubs the back of his neck. “I was in a meeting with the king.”
Sterling pauses before sighing. “Out with it, then.”
Klytis drops his hand from his neck. “I’ve been commanded by His Majesty to only transport them to the entrance at Foreigner’s Valley.”
“Foreigner’s Valley, huh…” Sterling rubs his stubble-filled jaw. “What about the outskirts of the Cliffs of Yilandra or at least to the outer edges of the Endymion Mountains?”
Klytis shakes his head. “His Majesty was adamant. I am to take them to the entrance of the valley, and only to the entrance.” He pauses, and flicks his pale blue eyes to me, sympathy resting within them. “He said, ‘Tell my pet the game has begun.’”
Sterling pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I suspected he’d have something up his sleeve.
” He reaches into his tunic and pulls out a tiny vial strung with twine, like a pendant on a necklace, filled with a deep green liquid.
Sterling locks eyes with Gray, and then me.
“I need the both of you to listen carefully and heed my next words. There have been recent reports of creatures awakening in that valley. It is imperative that you take precautions and always remain on guard. Stay together. No matter what. Find a cave to rest in overnight, always quell your fire when the moon finds its peak, and never travel through the night. Understood?”
Gray and I both dip our chins in acknowledgment.
“Good,” Sterling replies. “Now take this.” He gently places the vial in my hand and guides my fingers to a fist. “This is a paralyticus potion Azalea made. One drop on the tongue, and it would paralyze even a bull for at least an hour. Be wise with how you use it.”
My heart squeezes at the mention of Azalea. Saying goodbye to her this morning had been unbearably hard. Still, I again dip my chin. “We will,” I assure him.
Klytis picks at his nail and muses, “Hopefully you won’t have to use it at all.”
Gray shoots him a side-eye. “Yes, hopefully. Though it would be great to not be transported into the valley.”
Klytis arches an auburn-colored brow. “Would you like to go plead your case to the king, then? I’m just following orders here.”
“Klytis is right,” Sterling supplies. “It is not his fault for what the king has decided.”
Klytis winks at Gray; Gray rolls his eyes. And then they start bickering some more.
It makes me giggle, watching the two of them. Though I may have no one else outside of Gray, the same isn’t true for him. Besides me, Klytis has always been his closest companion. Certainly his closest male companion.
Sterling taps my shoulder, redirecting my attention. “While they squabble, might I have a word? There are a few things I wanted to discuss with you privately.”
I nod, and he guides me over to the other side of the room. Once safely out of ear-shot, I ask, “What is it you’d like to discuss?”
He clasps his hands behind his back and draws in a deep breath.
“Firstly, I’d like to provide you with a warning.
I’ve heard Erandor Kingdom’s Supreme Commander often frequents Bathara.
I hear he offers stratagem advice to the council at times.
I would like to warn you to avoid him at all costs, but I fear that is not entirely feasible.
So instead, I’d advise that, should you ever cross paths with him, mind your words, and remember that everything is a game of wits with that man.
” Sterling watches me closely, ensuring I absorb his guidance.
“Under no circumstances, ever, should you trust him. The Dalmar bloodline is not only known for their peculiar dark magic, but also for their ability to wear many masks.”
I’ve heard of Erandor’s tyrant commander.
The Great Leader of Legions, he is called.
Hailed wielder of the most powerful magic known to the Three Kingdoms—dark magic.
He is said to be a master strategist with an almost preternatural sharpness of mind.
He is also the head of House Dalmar, another Great House, and the third and final remaining bloodline constituting the Archbloods, alongside the Sulien and Fjolla lines.
Tynan Dalmar.
Despite being an Archblood and honored for his progenitor bloodline, Tynan is a man known for his delights in bestial acts, said to have a fascination with human nature that expands beyond acceptable curiosity.
He is also a man swimming in controversial rumors—the most prominent being that he abused his son, his heir, to turn him into an emotionless weapon.
Yet Tynan Dalmar is too powerful—too formidable— for anyone to care.
Even if Sterling hadn’t warned me, I would have done my best to avoid anything to do with that man and his bloodline at all costs.
“I understand,” I say to Sterling. “Is that all?”
He sighs. “Not quite. I have one last thing—a favor to ask of you, really.”
I tilt my head. “What is it?”
A poignant smile pulls at his lips. He glances over his shoulder toward Gray and Klytis, who are laughing about gods only know what, before looking back at me. “Take care of him for Azalea and me,” he requests in a gentle murmur.
Understanding who he means, I slide my eyes to Gray—who is now speaking in animated gestures with his hands—and a small, wistful grin sweeps across my lips. “He doesn’t need me to take care of him.”
“No,” Sterling agrees through his fleeting smile.
“But he does need you to aid him. Sometimes, his deep conviction to do what he feels is right can cloud him from making the hard choices. He sees right and wrong, morality and justice, in shades of black and white. While you, Lyra, understand they are not.” He pauses, thinking for a moment.
“Those who live in the gray have much less to lose than those who build their foundations using black and white stones. So in that sense, my dear girl, I ask you to help guide my son. Promise me you’ll help him if he ever loses his way. ”
The thought of Gray wandering lost provokes a sudden ache in my chest. “Of course I will. I will always be there for him, no matter what.”
“Thank you.” Sterling inclines his head. “I will sleep better through the nights knowing you two will be looking out for each other.”
I snort a laugh. “That makes two of us.”
His eyes crinkle. “Parting hug for a nagging, aging man?” Sterling outstretches his arms to me, and I gladly step into them. When he lets me go, he clears his throat and addresses Gray and Klytis. “Now, then. It’s time to depart.”
We emerge from the portal of swirling black and silver.
“I’m afraid this is where I must leave you,” Klytis says from behind us as Gray and I adjust to the blinding rays of shimmering light.
After Sterling said goodbye to Gray—Gray holding his emotions deep inside his chest, made evident by the constant hitches in his breathing—we offered our final farewells, and that had been that.
We followed Klytis through the portal he summoned and emerged beneath a gilded sun and sea-licked breeze.
“Thank you, my friend.” Gray extends his arm, holding Klytis’s eyes.
Klytis clutches Gray’s forearm in return. When he pulls back, his sleeve shifts, and I can see the details of his wielder’s mark. Resting in the center of his forearm, a swirl of misty black and silver meet inside the shape of a small keyhole. Flecks of white splatter along the blackness.
“Bathara would be lucky to receive you,” Klytis muses with a large grin. “Though the Rivara Kingdom and Keziah mourn losing you.”
For a brief moment, my heart feels the weight of a tiny fracture splitting its damaged frame.
I’ve been so occupied with the thought of Gray leaving me , I never considered all the others Gray was leaving behind.
Naturally, I knew Azalea and Sterling would be difficult, but they have also always held aspirations for Gray to someday become a man who assumes a full and prosperous life of his own—whatever it may look like for him.
Yet, I never considered he is leaving Klytis behind, his other best friend.
That he has to say goodbye to the tutor he’s had since he was a mere boy.
Hell, even Thestis would be difficult to say goodbye to, with his wide eyes, scattered freckles, and charming persistence.
Does it make me selfish that I never considered the ramifications outside of myself?
For some odd reason, the passing question surfaces a sentence from Casimir Vivaldri’s journal.
More than that, what if someone scribed the story of my life—would they deem me a hero or a villain for what I’ve done?
And suddenly, my fingers twitch with the desire to reach for Casimir’s journal, securely tucked within my personal pack.
“Maybe someday you can leave for Bathara as well,” Gray offers. “You’re certainly skilled enough.”
A rueful smile sweeps over Klytis’s lips. “Can’t.”
I think he’s going to elaborate, but then he just…doesn’t. Instead, he turns to me, reaches for my hand, and presses a light kiss to the back of it. “Best of luck, Lyra Izacalli. May the gods shine their favor upon you.”
Gray rolls his eyes.
When we were teenagers, Klytis was a shameless flirt with me. Until one day, Gray and him had a “talk”. He stopped the open flirting, moving instead to small provoking gestures that irk Gray.
And like always, his lips curve up pointedly as he drops my hand. I bite down against my answering smirk, fighting the urge to chuckle at Gray’s displayed annoyance and Klytis’s delight in it.
“Thanks, Klytis. I left healing supplies with Delroy, should you or anyone you know be in need of them.”
“Well, let’s pray to the gods I don’t.” Klytis inclines his head. “But thank you for the information just in case I do.”
I dip my chin.
Klytis claps his hands together, and his gaze bounces between Gray and me. “Well, it appears this is goodbye, then.” He smiles a final time, his eyes bright. “Give Bathara hell.”
He steps backward through the swirling portal, blinking it out of existence.
And Gray and I are officially left to face the valley alone.