28. Mural | Lyra
It was unbearable waiting for the council to assemble. With each creak of the door, Lyra’s heart rate increased.
“Is it any better?” Drystan asked her.
“No.”
Drystan refused to explain the reason for the meeting until everyone arrived.
“Are you well, Princess?” a masculine voice asked her.
By the kindness in it, it could have been Hadrian or Rigel, but it did not matter.
“She’s fine,” Drystan snapped.
Ice slithered through the room as the door whined on its hinges once more.
“You called?” Estria crooned.
If Lyra’s sight had not already been black, she would have seen the witch in a swirling onyx gown that matched her hair.
“It’s different from last time,” Drystan replied. “But I fear it’s what we discussed.”
Estria hummed, and Lyra could hear the tinkling of glass against glass. “Drink this.”
Something cold and hard was pressed into Lyra’s free hand, her other hand still gripped tightly in Drystan’s.
She did not mind his touch this time either.
The blindness was unbearable, and had he not anchored her, she would have floated away—taken by the current.
“What is it?” Lyra asked, using her thumb to trace the glass item. It was a vial with a diamond pattern etched across the sides.
“It will restore your sight,” Estria’s voice was a slow, deliberate hiss.
Lyra didn’t press the glass to her lips. Her hesitation was not unsurprising to the others as they chuckled.
“It’s fine,” Drystan said. “Drink it.”
Lyra thumbed the lid off and threw it back.
It slid down her throat like honey thickened by the cold. It didn’t taste nearly as sweet, but it wasn’t disgusting either.
The pain behind her eyes lessened from sharp to dull.
A tiny prick of light shattered the blackness.
She blinked hard, and Drystan let go of her hand.
Lyra pressed her fingertips to her eyes and rubbed lightly.
“What the fuck is going on?” she ground out when she could see once more.
It was blurry, but it was sight.
“Your time is running out,” Drystan sighed, rubbing his jaw. “We need to make way on the bargain.”
“Make way?” Lir barked. His red hair was vibrant despite the murkiness of Lyra’s sight still. “She forced us to believe her, and now you are forcing us to help her.”
“If she doesn’t complete the bargain, she will die,” Estria replied, tapping a long, pointed nail to her lower lip. “It’s a slow and excruciating death that will siphon the life out of her.”
Lyra clutched her neck to keep from gasping out loud.
“Good,” Lir said, his voice thick with hate. “No one should have that kind of power.”
The magic of the bargain was taking her life—the blindness was just the beginning of it.
Rigel cleared his throat. “I warned this would come to pass.”
“This is our top priority,” Drystan announced. “Lyra must survive.”
Lyra snorted. Of course, he wanted to keep her heart beating just long enough to claim the bloody throne before tossing her body into a sea chasm.
“You only want her to live so you can secure the throne, brother,” Caius said from beneath the shadow a column cast.
“You’ll want her alive to save us all when the gods intervene,” Drystan snapped at Caius before turning on Lir. “It’s with that ungodly power you despise that she’ll be able to.”
Estria swirled somewhere nearby.
It was hard for Lyra to make anything out clearly, so she felt rather than saw her. “She should survive until the equinox, so long as she doesn’t use her magic.”
Lyra rolled her eyes. “You make it sound as if I’d kill myself just to avoid marrying him.”
Drystan seethed. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“So where does that lead us?” Caspian asked, stopping Lyra from sniping back. “Do we turn our attention to the wedding plans or the bargain?”
“There’s not much we can do without confirmation from Adamaris that the temple is ready,” Drystan said, scrubbing a hand down his face.
Ishmael cleared his throat. ”I received some concerning news from Adamaris late last night.”
Lyra frowned. There was growing tension on Ishmael’s face.
His shoulders seemed to broaden before her eyes.
“Well,” Drystan gestured at him with his chin. “Please share.”
Ishmael cocked his head to the side. “There’s something unusual about the damage to the temple.”
Caspian nodded. “We all know the damage the recent earthquakes have wrought across our realm. It impacted the temples the most.”
Ishmael seemed to waver in his choice of words.
“Out with it,” Estria snapped.
Her nails clicked as she tapped them together.
Lyra wasn’t the only one losing her patience.
Ishmael looked to Drystan, and he glared. “Go on.”
“It destroyed a mural of Ennosidas and uncovered one of a … goddess.”
Flickers of surprise flashed across several faces, but most remained perfectly still.
“It was probably an ancient rendering of the first tribes,” Caius said, his attention swiftly scouring anyone for a hint of agreement.
Ishmael shook his head as he blew out a breath. “She was holding the trident.”
Tiandra’s name flashed in Lyra’s mind.
Evidence of their true goddess has been uncovered at last.
“Who else knows about this?” Rigel asked, his hands resting on narrow hips.
“Us and the acolytes,” Ishmael answered. “No one else.”
“I would have to see it for myself,” Lir growled.
Caspian pressed his lips into a thin line. “As would I.”
Hadrian, Ishmael, and Rigel remained silent.
“Very well. Go see it,” Drystan said, waving a hand as if to send them away immediately.
Ishmael grimaced. “It’s not that easy.”
Chill crept into the chamber. The water suddenly turned stagnant.
“You seek to keep us from the truth?” Lir asked, his eyes darkening.
Ishmael rolled his eyes, huffing a breath that sent tiny bubbles scurrying to the surface. “Not me. Aegir has locked down the temple.”
Drystan froze beside her, but the muscles along his shoulders twitched. “He knows about the mural?”
“Of course,” Ishmael said quickly. “Adamaris said they were in the process of trying to cover it up, but they were waiting for the proper supplies.”
Anxiety slithered up through Lyra’s stomach and wound itself around her chest.
“We cannot allow that if we want the truth to prevail,” she announced, her gaze locked onto Drystan’s profile.
He rubbed his hand across his cheek and jaw, floating languidly. His calmness unnerved her.
They were running out of time and needed to act quickly.
“What would you have us do?” Caius said with a hint of humor on his lips. “Wage war against the Tidal Master?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lyra snapped. “Drystan is the king. Surely he can put an end to this.” Lyra slung her arm in Drystan’s direction.
Estria hummed. “You heard Aegir today—not until Drystan’s been crowned. And the Tidal Master has been gaining favor as of late. To move against him would be foolish.”
“So we move quietly,” Lyra suggested, crossing her arms over her chest. “Have Adamaris see if any of the acolytes can be bought?”
Ishmael looked at Drystan before answering. “They have in the past.”
“Good. Pay them off to stall.”
Hadrian swished his tail, propelling him towards the center of the circle. “What do you mean?”
“Have them destroy supplies, make mistakes, lose things,” Lyra said. “Anything that would give us time to get down there without tipping off Aegir that we’re aware.”
When her response was met with silence, she frowned. “Surely you don’t all find that unreasonable?”
Drystan laughed quietly, the sound muffled behind his hand. “They don’t find it unreasonable. They find it clever, which is why they’re remaining silent—they weren’t quick enough to think of it.”
Caius snorted. “No, we find it so simple we don’t think it will work.”
Lyra turned on him. “Then you come up with something better.”
“There is nothing better,” Ishmael replied. “We’ll pay them off, but it will only buy us a few weeks.”
“Wouldn’t Aegir find it suspicious if we all show up at the temple?” Rigel asked, his pearl-colored tail shining iridescently in the dim light.
It would garner ample talk if half of the council arrived unannounced at a temple, much less most of the council.
There would need to be some kind of event or holiday to make it believable.
Lyra’s stomach tightened to the point that it made breathing difficult.
“We use the wedding as an excuse. I need to see the place to plan.”