Chapter 11 #2
The fire was reflected in her amber eyes, as if her entire soul was burning to ashes within. She loved his brother. He saw it now, more than he ever had. And that love?
It was going to kill her.
It was going to destroy her...just like his mother and father had always warned him.
It was better not to feel. It was better to have magic and flames and loyalty only to the god he served. To hold his heart for Vivorr, and Vivorr alone.
“I don’t know. But I need you to come back to us, Soraya,” Arawn said. The wolves dared to step through his fire, yelping as they did. But soon, he’d have no strength left.
A Sacred’s magic was not infinite.
He lifted his gaze to the sky, where six raphons had come for their aerie, and Cyrra was helping fend them off of her own accord...never one to ignore a challenge.
He whistled again.
“They need you right now, more than Kinlear does,” he said. “I need you, Soraya... my dearest friend.”
And when he called her that, and she did not object... it solidified the dying hope inside of him. She would never be his. And he would never be hers.
She wiped her tears with a bloodstained hand.
“Okay?” he asked, as his magic dimmed.
Don’t feel, he told himself. Don’t feel because if you do, you will fail.
“Okay,” Soraya nodded.
“Now pick up your blade,” Arawn said. “And do what a Sacred does best.”
Cyrra landed just as his fire winked out.
Her talons flattened the wolves on one side, and Arawn leapt for her, landing hard against his saddle. Soraya sprinted for her own mount, as Arawn guarded her back...and together, they took to the skies again, their eagles like twin flames to light the night.
He noticed, that for the rest of the battle...
Soraya had no magic.
As if her connection with Avane had died.
As if all the sun in her, all the joy he’d always known... had gone dim.
The war ended for the night, and Soraya flew past Arawn and the others... like she couldn’t get back to the Citadel fast enough, even if it meant she’d broken formation.
By the time he dismounted and checked on Cyrra, offering her a well-deserved meal... she was long gone from the Eagle’s Nest.
He found her in the Rider’s temple, a small room inside the Aviary with stained glass windows of each pillared god. She was seated by the fire...with a small black book cradled in her hands.
“Soraya?” He kept his voice light as he entered, but she didn’t look up.
So, he crossed the room and sat down beside her, studying the side of her face.
She hadn’t even wiped the darksoul blood away, hadn’t changed out of her runed fighting leathers.
She smelled like smoke, from his own fire.
..and she was hunched over, her eyes closed as she held the small black book to her chest.
Almost as if she were praying.
He supposed now was as good a time as any to spend a moment alone with her god...to apologize for what she’d said on the battlefield. In the heat of the moment, in her brokenness...she’d snapped.
That must be it.
She looked weak. Exhausted from the battle, the surging of her magic...and now that he thought about it, she hadn’t shared a meal with him and the others in days.
Had she even slept in the nights since Kinlear’s accident?
“Soraya?”
She didn’t open her eyes, so he reached out and touched her wrist. “Sor—”
Gods, her skin was cold. Utterly cold, as though she were still standing there in the snow. And her eyes, when they finally fluttered open? They were haunted. Their normal bright amber was muted. Perhaps she was sick from the overuse of magic.
“Soraya, I just—"
“What?” she snarled at him.
He flinched.
She’d been crying again.
“I just...I’m worried about you.” Arawn said carefully. This wasn’t like her at all. He felt like he was looking at a stranger.
“Why?” she asked. “I’m fine.”
“What happened wasn’t fine,” Arawn said.
She laughed. “Should I pay penance, then? For speaking the truth to my god? It’s what they teach us, Crown Prince. Why should I be punished for it?”
Her words had come out like a growl. She never talked to him this way. And she looked, for a moment...like she wanted to hurt him. Hurt anyone, like the Soraya who’d just been on the battlefield had followed her here.
So, he held up his hands.
And then his eyes slid back to the book, but she quickly snapped it shut, her still-bloody hands shaking. He’d never seen it before. “What are you rea—"
“It’s none of your business,” she hissed.
“Sora,” he tried. “This isn’t like you.”
For one second, he thought she might scream at him. But then she looked at him, really looked at him, and seemed to remember who he was.
“I...” she swallowed. She blinked, like a spell had broken, or a veil had finally been removed from her eyes.
She glanced past his shoulder, but the room was empty.
They were alone. “I found this, the other day,” she said, her voice hurried.
There was still a little tremble behind it.
“Or rather, I swear it found me. A feeling, maybe, but it was just there. In the library, like...like a buried treasure.”
“The book?” Arawn asked.
Soraya nodded. She was still shaking, so he dared scoot close enough that she would be able to feel his body heat.
But she slid away from him.
“What’s in it?” he asked.
She sucked in a breath. “You can’t...” she swallowed. “You wouldn’t...” She swallowed and shook her head. “Just...tell me what you see.”
Before she could stop herself, she turned the book around.
Arawn stared at it...and lifted a pale brow.
“It’s empty,” he said.
And then he laughed, as if this had all been a joke.
But she wasn’t smiling.
“Are you alright, Soraya?” he asked. “Perhaps you should see Alaris, let her check on you. You haven’t eaten, or slept, or—”
“I’m fine,” she snapped at him again, as if she were angry. Furious.
And then she turned her back on him.
He felt like he’d been slapped. He was about to press in, to push further, when a voice caught his attention as two servant girls entered the small temple.
“It’s true,” whispered one to another, not noticing him and Soraya seated there together by the fire. “The prince has been removed from his duties.”
“What?” Arawn barked, at the same time Soraya finally snapped out of her stupor and echoed him. “What do you mean?”
The servants gasped at the sight of them.
And then the early morning turned into a waking nightmare, as Arawn demanded they tell him what they’d heard. Rumors spread fast, in the Citadel, but this one was far too outlandish to be false.
They trembled as they looked up at him...and he learned that Kinlear Laroux, famed Eagleminder of Lordach...had just been permanently removed from his duties.