chapter twelve
“WAKE UP, SLEEPYHEAD.” SENIIA’S VOICE pulls me out of my sleep.
My head hurts like someone is banging on a drum inside it, and I roll over onto my other side to block her out. “Go away,” I grumble, but she’s insistent.
“We have a boat to catch. Time to rise and shine.”
I force my eyelids open, taking in the same elegant space from last night, squinting at the harsh morning light flooding through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Seniia’s staff leans against the wall, her feathered serpent coiled peacefully around it, and I’m in one of the two beds.
With great effort, I push myself up, the room tilting slightly as I move.
Seniia, seeming to sense a disaster about to happen, pushes an empty bucket into my hands right before I convulse and vomit.
Tears stream down my cheeks from the strain as I stare at her with wide eyes.
“I’ve never felt—” Another convulsion interrupts me, and I vomit once more.
“Worse in my life,” I growl, speaking between the convulsions.
“Having too much wine will do that to you,” she says with a smirk. “But fear not. I have the solution.” She rummages through her purse and retrieves a small pouch, then adds a scoop of its contents into a glass of water. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
I take a steadying breath, praying that’s it. My hands shake as I take the glass she’s offering me. “What is it?”
“Something that will take your banging headache away and relieve you of the nausea.”
That sounds wonderful. I down the glass, and to my surprise, I manage to keep it down.
“You hold your liquor well for a human. For a moment there, I thought Vilder would pass out before you.”
I grimace. Did I really drink that much? I try to recall the last part of the evening, to no avail. Burn me. I did, didn’t I? I bury my face in the pillow. It’s so soft, nothing like the straw pillow I had in my bed in Bronich. I peek an eye open. “Did you mention a boat?”
“I did.” She hands me a damp cloth to wash my face. “It leaves in a bell.”
My headache has already been reduced to a nuisance at the back of my head, and the nausea is gone. “Thank you,” I say. “You just saved my life.”
“Anytime.” She gestures to a stool by the window. “I’ve put a new set of clothes out for you and placed the set from last night on top of your satchel for you to bring with you.” She bites her lip. “I hope you don’t mind?”
I shake my head. “Of course not.” I make my way over to the clothes, still a little unsteady.
A breath of fresh air causes the delicate curtains to dance, and I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the breeze.
Feeling slightly better, I examine the new set of clothes Seniia has laid out for me.
They are similar to the ones she gave me yesterday both in color and cut.
“If anything, you are too kind,” I say, not bothering to move behind the screen before I slip out of the nightgown she must have put me in—too weary to care about modesty.
“You don’t even know me.” I glance at her.
There’s a sudden tightness in my chest. “I noticed last night that there are Reāns who are not particularly friendly toward humans,” I say, pulling the new shirt over my head.
Although most of the night is a blur, it’s hard to forget when someone spits at you or calls you names.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. Of course, no place is perfect.
“It’s complex and has many layers, but long story short, there are Reāns who blame the humans for the current state of Reā and how the Void covers an increasingly larger area.”
“How is that even possible?”
“Casimir’s strength comes from the Void, and the Void grows by feeding off of negative emotions, and .
. .” She purses her lips. “I don’t know how to say this in a polite way, but humans are fairly weak willed compared to Reāns, and it makes you way too easy for Casimir to manipulate.
The Reāns think humans should be better at resisting.
Better at thinking for themselves.” Her tone tells me she finds the thought absurd.
“You and Vilder are different. Why?”
She stares out the window, a slight frown furrowing her brow. “I believe it’s more complicated than that, and I have a feeling Vilder does too.” Her gaze meets mine. “Besides, we are all oceans.” She shrugs. “What ripples on the surface tell you nothing of the hidden depths.”
“Thank you,” I say, and really mean it.
She flashes me one of her bright smiles, showing a hint of her fangs. “Now get ready, or Vilder will whup our asses for missing the boat.”
BOWEN IS QUIET AS WE make our way toward the pier, the streets scattered with flowers from last night’s celebrations, the city still in a slumber. A soft humming melody catches my attention, gradually growing stronger with each step we take.
“What’s that sound?” I whisper to Seniia just as a group of young women around our age come into view from around the corner. They’re all wearing exquisite flowing dresses with flowers adorning their hair.
“It’s an honoring of the first blood ritual,” Seniia says. “It’s always performed the morning after a full moon. These were blessed with their first bleed yesterday. They are headed for the temple so they can receive Reā’s and Wyr’s blessings.”
Their gentle song captivates me as I watch them glow with pride, weaving their way through the quiet streets.
“The cycle of a Reān female is intricately linked to the Celestial Moon,” Seniia explains. “We will have our first bleed on the full Celestial Moon closest to our twenty-first birthday. After that, we bleed with each consecutive full Celestial Moon.”
“How many are there in a year?” I ask.
“Five. One every fifty-fifth day.” Her gaze follows the young females as they continue down the quiet street.
“I had my rite earlier this year. The first one is strong. But although you may be weak from the sheer amount of blood you lose that first time, it is such a powerful rite of transformation. Especially for those of us who are moonborn, since it means we will come fully into our powers.” Her eyes are shining. “How do humans honor the first bleed?”
“We don’t,” I say.
“You don’t?” Seniia stares at me. “But it’s such a rite of passage for a female. Will that not leave you, I don’t know, feeling lost?”
I shrug. It’s never been relevant to me.
The idea of never having children still hurts, especially now that, fate willing, I’ll have the freedom to do so.
And there is still a part of me that wonders what it would be like to find someone to start a family with.
With a sigh, I dismiss the thought before it has a chance to weigh me down.
If I can have my freedom, that will have to be enough.
“You ladies sure are leaving it to the last minute.”
I spin around, grateful for the distraction. “Vilder!” I suppress a grin at his disheveled appearance. Not even the twin swords at his back can make him intimidating right now. He looks the way I felt when I woke up.
He gives Seniia’s many bags a pointed look. “Really, Seniia? You know we’ll wear the robes of an Accepted for at least a year, right?”
She swats him on the arm. “Stop complaining and help me carry them or we’ll miss the boat.”
He shakes his head in exasperation but does as she says. “I sure hope my quarters at the Arc will be far away from yours,” he grumbles as he carries her bags toward the line waiting for the boat—primarily Reāns, with a few humans scattered amongst them.
“Oh, someone’s in a mood this morning. Hard night?” Seniia teases.
Vilder’s only answer is a scowl.
“Why aren’t you in a worse state?” He gives me a once-over. “I clearly remember having to carry you up the stairs and place you in your bed.”
“You did what?” I sputter. How could Seniia not have told me this? I turn to give her a hard stare, tripping on my own feet as I do so, and only Vilder’s quick reaction spares me from a face-plant in front of everyone.
“No need to worry. I was the one who helped you undress,” Seniia says, doing her best to conceal her amusement. She fails spectacularly. “I gave her moonroot powder,” she says, shifting her focus to Vilder. “If you need it, I can prepare some for you as well.”
He gives her a look as if she just offered him poison. “I’ll be fine,” he says in a clipped voice. “Barely any better than that brace,” he adds under his breath.
“Most Reāns don’t like to take moonroot,” Seniia clarifies. “It disconnects us from elēn, cuts off our magic.”
I shoot her a sideways glance. “I thought it was only the C’elēn who could use magic?”
“Oh, no. Most Reāns sense the elēn,” she says. “But how much elēn you can draw, meaning how much magic you have, depends on when and where you’re born.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s almost always a lesser moon that’s full when someone is born, so most Reāns get some elemental power.” She pauses to wave at a passing vendor. “Unless you’re born during the dark face of the moons.”
“What makes a C’elēn different?”
“Niia. She points to the sky. “To become a C’elēn, you need to be born under the full Celestial Moon.”
I nod slowly, processing. “So, the moonborn the minister hunts . . .”
“Exactly.” Her expression darkens. “See the lady over there?” She points to the flower vendor, a Reān female with tawny skin and a white topknot that reveals her delicately pointed ears.
She’s standing behind a flower stall, and as she moves from pot to pot, her touch magically brings forth a variety of colorful flowers and herbs. “Earth moon.”
I study the Reān lady in fascination. “And if you’re born during the dark moons?”
“Then you are shadowborn. A Reān without connection to source,” she says with a grimace.
To my surpise, I shudder. The shadowborn being similar to humans should feel familiar, safe even. Instead, the thought unsettles me in a way I can't explain.