chapter eleven #2
“Oh, come now, La?na.” Seniia tugs at my sleeve. “It’s harmless.”
A new tune fills the air in a rhythm that’s hard to ignore, and Seniia raises her arms above her head, moving her hips to the beat alluringly. Spinning to face us, she beckons with her fingers. “Come! Let’s dance.”
I shoot Vilder a desperate look, but he only leans back against the city wall, his amusement telling me he won’t lift a finger.
“Eh . . . next one?” I shout over the music as she twirls into the crowd, laughing. I can’t believe I drank blood. My stomach churns—though whether from revulsion or something else, I’m not sure. It didn’t taste bad. If anything, it tasted . . . nourishing.
My gaze glides across the buildings and many vendor wagons covered with colorful flags and flower garlands that match the ribbons of the tall pole at the center, but my stomach instantly drops when my eyes find a huge pyre.
Are they sacrificing people after all? Is that how they get their blood?
A Reān male with pale blue hair and skin the color of sun-kissed earth lifts his hands, and an enormous fire blazes into life to the cheers of the onlookers.
I flinch. How easy it would be to kill with powers like that.
You wouldn’t even need a pyre to torch someone to death.
The smell of burning wood fills the air as the logs crackle and pop, and suddenly, I’m back in Bronich again, forced to watch innocent people perish in flames, their cries a haunting echo I can never outrun.
Scrambling backward, I hit a solid structure.
Two hands grab my shoulders, the touch—gentle, yet firm—grounding me back in the present.
“Hey, you all right?” It’s Vilder. He gives my shoulders another gentle squeeze.
This is not Bronich, I remind myself. No one will be burned. People look happy. You are free. I press my lips into a thin line. As free as I can be with Llyr’s soulbinding hanging over me. What does he want from me? The thought of his betrayal almost pushes me into another abyss of despair.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” I shake myself out of my stupor and immediately step away. My outfit is indecent enough—no need to partake in unseemly behavior as well.
“Are you sure?” His gaze moves from my face to the pyre and back again. “Do they burn people in the Voidlands?” His expression tells me everything I need to know: That is not a common custom here.
I inhale deeply, suppressing the persistent unease just below the surface. “They do.”
Vilder looks horrified.
I shrug. It is what it is. “So, what are we celebrating?” I say, eager to change the topic.
He glances at me, a flicker of something in his eyes, but seeing Seniia twirl her way back to where we stand, he lets it pass.
“See Tiran, the green moon next to Niia, the Celestial Moon?” He points to the sky.
“As you can see, the two of them are the only full moons tonight. Sa’mahtā happens the moment the two moons peak in unison.
And although Tiran is a lesser goddess and rules the element of Earth, the festival is mostly in honor of Reā, the goddess of the land, and Wyr, the god who fertilizes the land,” he says.
“Reāns and humans alike will come from all over Reā to take part in the festival or to receive Reā’s and Wyr’s blessings,” Seniia says as she throws her arms around our shoulders.
Or around my shoulders, at least. Her other arm wraps around Vilder’s waist—he’s too tall for anything else. “Anyone else thirsty?”
“I am,” I say, then quickly add, “I can pay.” I reach for the coin purse at my belt. “You have been more than kind enough already . . .”
She waves my offer away. “Drinks on me,” she says, grabbing Vilder. “He’ll help me carry. You wait here and enjoy the show.”
The crowd absorbs them, and I go on to watch the cheerful dancers in front of me. For a while, I follow a young couple as they spin around the circle, then avert my gaze when they share a deep kiss. Somehow, it seems like everything forbidden in Bronich is more than encouraged here.
I’m staring at the swarm of people, searching for any signs of Seniia and Vilder, when a tall figure reclining in the shadows on the outskirts of the square catches my attention.
He’s wearing a midnight-blue cloak, and it’s hard to make out his features under the shade of his hood.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something strangely familiar about him—the way he casually brushes his dark blue waves away from his face, his golden complexion . . .
I suck in a sharp breath. It’s him, isn’t it? The man—male—from my dream. Astēr.
His head snaps in my direction, his hood falling back, revealing how his skin turns ghostly white as our eyes meet.
What in damnation? I know in my core the wise thing would be to get moving, but I can’t tear my gaze away from his.
The world ceases to exist. There are no movements, no sounds, only my heart beating so hard it’s surely on its way out of my chest. Whether it lasts a bell or a mere fraction of a heartbeat, I can’t say.
All I can focus on is the sheer depth of the sorrow and longing layering those golden eyes.
It’s almost too much to bear. What horrors has he witnessed to carry such despair?
Then, almost as quickly as the expression appeared, it vanishes.
With a face carved in stone, he strides toward me, the crowd giving him a wide berth as he crosses the square.
Oh no, this is not happening. I search the crowd for Seniia and Vilder. Surely they should be back by now.
When I look back toward Astēr, he’s so close I have to crane my neck. If Llyr and Ero are on the shorter side of the spectrum, Astēr is clearly on the taller end.
“What . . .” he begins, then shakes his head. “How . . . ?” He reaches toward me with a strange sort of familiarity, then seems to think better of it and folds his arms across his wide chest.
I frown up at him. “Excuse me, sir, but do I know you?”
He looks oddly amused at that.
“Yes? No?” He runs his hand through his messy waves, huffing out a sigh. “It’s complicated?” he suggests.
I narrow my eyes. Is he drunk? He doesn’t smell of alcohol. He smells of musk and pine and something familiar I can’t put my finger on. He smells just like he did in the dream. The dream. Before I can avoid it, my cheeks are burning so intensely I’m surprised I don’t go up in flames.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I’m La?na. What’s your name?” The words tumble out so fast that I’m left breathless, and I gulp down a desperately needed breath of air.
He gives me a suggestive look, his head tilted in thought.
A prickling sensation runs across my forehead as his intense stare seems to bore into me.
“Astēr,” he finally says. “But you already knew that.”
I blush even deeper. Burn him. This should not be possible. Is he aware I watched him being intimate with that woman—female—whatever? Shuffling my feet, I glance everywhere but at him. Still, the subtle weight of his stare is heavy on my skin, even as I look away.
“Llyr was always good with those sorts of things—though not good enough. I’ve yet to meet someone who is.”
My attention snaps back toward him. What does he know of Llyr? I open my mouth to ask exactly what he means by that when his gaze locks with mine, causing my insides to twist and turn with a delicious yet agonizing craving. Have I completely lost my mind?
This close, his eyes are captivating, a million different shades of gold, from a dark molten honey to white-hot fire, their allure heightened by the dark brown ring that frames his golden irises.
The corners of his mouth rise, and I finally regain my senses.
“How do you know Llyr?” I step back, only to hit the wall behind me.
His brows pull together as his eyes narrow. “Did he hurt you?” His voice has dropped to an icy chill, and the same prickling sensation as before runs across my forehead as he studies me intently.
I bite my lip, staring back at him. Did Llyr hurt me?
Only indirectly, but that was more than enough.
How could he not know that properties are treated no better than a stray dog at the best of times?
Could he be that ignorant? No, I decide.
He could not. So, what was his reasoning?
Considering that he put himself at risk to free me, I might be inclined to forgive him if his reasoning is solid enough—he did mention something about keeping me safe, after all.
What’s so hard to swallow is the fact that he wanted to put a brace on me again.
After everything I’ve been through, all the shit I’ve done to be free of it—shit that he knows about—he wanted to enslave me yet again. That is unforgivable.
“It’s . . . complicated?” I say, copying his earlier answer. I’m not about to confess anything to this stranger, regardless of how intimate we’ve been in my imagination. “But you haven’t answered my question. Do you know him?”
“I do. I know him very well.” His jaw ticks, and he looks less than pleased. “Though clearly not well enough.”
I cast a sidelong glance at him, where he now leans against the wall next to me.
He’s without doubt the most stunning male I’ve ever laid eyes upon, and Reā holds a pretty high standard from what I’ve seen so far.
Yet one thing is for certain: If he’s working with Llyr, he can be as pretty as the moons for all I care. I want him gone.
Relief floods my body when I spot Seniia and Vilder weaving their way through the dancing crowd, and I lift my hand to wave at them. Astēr follows my gaze.
“Good choice.” He gives a nod of approval. “The singer holds an immense amount of knowledge. Listen to him. And the little pink one is gifted in the healing arts. She will be one of the most powerful healers Reā has seen once she’s a fully trained C’elēn.”
Did I hear him correctly? Singer? I study Vilder’s exasperated expression as he trails behind Seniia, who’s skipping along in front of him, a tray loaded with drinks and food in his hands.
I’ve barely heard Vilder string together more than two sentences so far.
It’s hard to imagine him telling an entire story, let alone singing.
“How can you know such things?” I say, turning toward Astēr. Except he’s not there. All I’m left with is a chilling emptiness, the space next to me devoid of his presence.
I let out a frustrated sigh. For the second time today, someone has vanished into thin air right in the middle of a conversation.
Could it be that they’re simply a product of my mind?
Perhaps I hit my head during the fall from the cliff, or the lack of air underwater damaged my brain.
The mere possibility leaves a sickening feeling in my gut.
Vilder sets the tray on a nearby windowsill, raising his eyebrows. “Were you just talking to yourself?”
I stare after Seniia, who is pulled over to dance with a beautiful girl, then shake my head. “No! He was just there.” I gesture toward the empty spot next to me. “I swear.”
One side of Vilder’s mouth pulls up at my distress. “Relax.” He laughs. “They do that sometimes.”
He’s not helping. “What do you mean?”
He hands me a cup of wine. I’ve never had wine before in my life, but I’ve also never been happier to be offered a glass. At least, I think it’s wine, but frankly, at this point, I don’t care. I chug it down in a single gulp and then grab another one.
Vilder quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “The most powerful C’elēn,” he clarifies. “They do that sometimes.”
Although the air is warm, I shiver. “How?”
“It’s called bending. It allows you to travel vast distances through the bending of space. Like . . .” He’s thoughtful for a moment. “Like folding a piece of paper and stepping through . . . kind of.”
I blink up at him. He’s giving me a headache. “That does not make any sense.”
His mouth twitches, revealing his dimple. “There are few who hold such powers these days.” His expression turns contemplative. “Did you happen to catch his name?”
“No,” I lie, afraid that saying his name out loud will call him back.
It’s clear he’s connected to Llyr, and thus I want him nowhere near me.
I gulp down another glass of wine. The attention of some powerful C’elēn is the last thing I wish for.
What I want is simple: freedom and a life in peace. That’s it.
“Hey, save some for me.” Seniia laughs upon seeing my empty wineglasses, sweat pearling on her forehead from the dance she just took part in.
“La?na is a little unsettled from experiencing a C’elēn disappearing into thin air,” Vilder says.
Her eyes widen. “Are you all right?” She places a gentle hand on my forearm.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just a little startled.” I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “And I must admit, this wine is quickly making my life a whole lot better.” The wine warms my chest, a gentle calm spreading through my limbs, and I savor another sip.
Grabbing the tray, she sits down cross-legged and pats the ground next to her for me and Vilder to join her. “Let’s eat.” She hands me a piece of grilled meat from the tray. “Some food will ground you. Seeing someone bend for the first time can leave the best of us a little lightheaded.”
I take the meat she offers, not bothering to correct her. I didn’t see the act of bending myself, but it’s better if they believe that’s the reason I’m so unsettled.
I reach for another piece, savoring its juicy tenderness while enjoying how Seniia teases Vilder.
The buzz of the wine and her infectious laughter making me smile despite myself.
Seniia’s radiant energy makes it nearly impossible to stay in a bad mood.
I can tell even Vilder—although he sure tries his best—struggles to keep a straight face.
I touch my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart beneath my fingertips.
The aching hole in my chest is smaller, somehow. Less overwhelming.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply, letting the scent of spiced wine and roasted meat replace the phantom smell of burning flesh.
When I open them again, I focus on Seniia’s radiant smile and on Vilder’s protective presence beside me.
While the past is unchangeable, I have control over the present.
And maybe it’s their easy demeanors and genuine smiles, or maybe it’s the wine, but I manage to push both Astēr and Llyr firmly out of my head and enjoy the moment.
And this time, when Seniia asks me to dance, I join her.