chapter fifteen
SENIIA HANDS HER BAG BACK to Vilder so she can hold my hand as we approach the tall double doors.
“Welcome to the Arc of Wisdom,” Vilder whispers, and a small gasp escapes my lips as I’m struck by the sheer beauty of the grand entrance hall.
For a moment, I forget all about my escape.
Save for a handful of Accepted draped in midnight-blue robes, the inside of the Arc is quiet.
A soft swishing sound, like the rustle of silk on stone, is all I can hear as they glide swiftly and silently through the foyer before vanishing down one of the seven hallways.
I tilt my head back to stare with awe at the majestic glass dome above me.
Sunlight streams in through the glass, illuminating the magnificent fountain with the five wolf sculptures at the center of the hall.
Each one is massive, at least five times bigger than Gray, but the white one in the center nearly dwarfs the other four.
“It’s absolutely stunning,” I whisper, not wanting to disturb the reverent silence. Each wolf is so intricately carved that it looks almost real, and with the way the sunlight strikes the heartstone, the wolves appear to glow from within.
“That would be the Well of Wisdom,” Vilder whispers back.
“The white wolf in the center represents Niia, the goddess of magic and the Celestial Moon, while the other four represent the four smaller moons and their lesser gods and goddesses.” He points at the nearest statue.
“The pale pink one there is Cyra, the goddess of fire and combat. The light blue represents Briah, the goddess of water and healing. The forest green one over there is Tiran, goddess of the earth element and abundance, and the soft yellow wolf represents Xepher, the god of winds and words.”
The way they’re placed, it’s as if they’re each guarding one of the five streams, and maybe they are.
The water flows from the fountain through deep channels in the floor, then disappears beneath a magnificent floor-to-ceiling window.
From where we stand, I have a panoramic view of where the streams then drop off the island’s edge.
This must be the source of the five waterfalls I saw from the ship.
“The five streams are also a representation of the five arts of the elēn,” Vilder adds. “Magic, combat, healing, cultivation, and councel.”
My eyebrows draw together in a frown. “Why do you have to know combat when you have magic?”
“The first rule of the elēn is to never rely on your magic,” he says. “If someone finds a way to block it, one could easily be dead without combat skills.”
I nod. That makes sense.
Then I feel it. A sense of freedom I have not felt before.
I turn to Vilder, eyes wide. “The pull is gone,” I whisper.
Our eyes lock, and for a heartbeat, all we can do is look at each other. He jerks his chin toward the entrance door. “What are you waiting for? Get out.”
I spin toward the door, then freeze as loud steps echo down the hall.
“La?na?”
My stomach drops. The familiarity of that voice.
The steps quicken their pace as they draw nearer. “La?na, is that you?”
Refusing to turn around, I grind my teeth. I will not be a prisoner again. I will not be a prisoner again.
“Dear Mah, you’re alive!” He sounds so relieved that I can’t help but turn around, only to stare into Vilder’s broad back.
“Let her be,” he says.
“And who are you?” Llyr asks. His tone sounds more intrigued than upset.
“You should know better than to address your superior in such a way,” an unfamiliar female voice says. “He is Master C’elēn to you.”
“Do not worry about it, Ilyana. There will be enough time for formalities later.”
The female scoffs, but she says no more.
“La?na, it is me,” Llyr says. “Will you at least look at me?”
When I say nothing, he adds, “Just give me a chance to explain.”
“Like why you wanted to put a fucking brace on her,” Vilder snarls, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Llyr.
The ensuing silence is almost tangible.
“Easy, seeker. There are limits to my patience.” I can hear in Llyr’s voice that controlled, cool tone that tells me he’s being careful not to lose his temper, and I step out next to Vilder. I will not let him get in trouble because of me.
“Leave him alone,” I say, meeting Llyr’s vibrant green eyes. I frown. Were they always this green?
Llyr’s gaze jumps between the two of us, and I’m relieved to see his eyes hold more curiosity than anger. My shoulders drop. Despite everything, in this strange new world, seeing a familiar face brings me a sense of relief.
His gaze shifts to Seniia, and he dips his chin toward her. “Priestess.”
“Master C’elēn.” She returns the gesture.
C’elēn. Something inside me shatters upon seeing him like this.
I know I should have expected it, but a part of me refused to believe.
Or maybe it wasn’t so much about belief as it was about hope.
A hope that I was wrong. That despite everything, he could be the same caring man I’d gotten to know in Bronich.
I stay close to Vilder as I study Llyr. He looks different, yet the same.
His long white hair is cut short on the sides, and the rest is fastened in a topknot, much like Ero’s, showing off his Reān ears, and he is dressed in a long cream robe adorned with a hood.
Fastened at his waist is a rope intricately woven in a blend of the same soft pastel shades as the lesser moons, with a small pouch hanging from the belt.
I glance toward the female C’elēn, Ilyana, noticing that she carries a similar pouch at her waist.
What truly makes Llyr stand out, though, is the otherworldly glow to him that marks him as a Reān magic wielder. Not to mention the power that radiates from him. There’s no way he could pass for a human now. Was he using magic to make himself less noticeable in Bronich?
“I see you have made friends.” His voice is soft, his hands raised, palms facing me in a nonthreatening gesture, as if he’s afraid I’ll run away again. He turns his head toward Seniia and Vilder. “A singer and a priestess of Briah—and aspiring C’elēn, I take it?”
Seniia gives him an almost invisible nod.
Llyr turns his attention back toward me. “From what I hear, you have told them about our little misunderstanding.” I don’t miss the disapproval in his tone. “How long have you known them?” He quirks an eyebrow. “A couple weeks, at most?”
A low grumble from Vilder earns him a stern glance from Llyr.
“I am not saying they are not trustworthy, La?na,” he continues, as if that wasn’t exactly what he was saying. “But I will encourage you to not trust everyone you meet in the future.”
If he’s trying to win me over, his words have the exact opposite effect.
“The way I trusted you?” I spit. I don’t care if he had good reasons—the result is the same.
“The way I trusted Em?” I ball my hands into fists.
Whatever his intentions were, he still chose to betray me.
“The way I trusted people I had known my entire life?” I barely notice how my nails dig into the flesh of my palms. “Because that wasn’t worth shit in the end, was it?
” My rage is so profound that I’m physically shaking as I stalk to where he stands.
“Was it?” I scream it to his face, barely noticing the startled glances from the Accepted scurrying through the hall.
I don’t care who hears. “And did you just say ‘misunderstanding’? Misunderstanding!” I let out a dry laugh.
“Has your mind burned to ashes?” My roar echoes back to me through the grand hall.
He takes a deep breath but looks otherwise unaffected, and I curse myself for losing my temper. I should know better. A property who loses her temper is dead, but years of piled-up anger and emotions are making their way out at this very moment.
“Surely your new friends could have taught you something more valuable than just an extended vocabulary,” Llyr says with another disapproving glance toward Vilder.
My vision blurs, and I snap my teeth together so hard my jaw hurts, fearing that if I open my mouth, I’ll explode on him again.
“Let. Them. Be.” It’s all I can manage to press out through my clenched teeth.
He turns his attention back to me. “La?na . . .” His voice is soft. “I never meant to hurt you. If you had given me some time to explain—”
“Explain what, exactly? Why you sold me into slavery? Made me a braced property? Let Master Coperie torture me day after day?” My gaze hardens.
“Does this look like protection to you?” I pull up my sleeves for everyone to see, my anger at Llyr stronger than my shame for the scars, and Ilyana sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth.
I cock my head at Llyr. “Please,” I say in my sweetest voice, “go on and explain our little . . . misunderstanding.”
“I did not know.” His voice is barely a whisper. “And I tried to tell you when we were on the cliff . . . I swear on Mah, La?na, I truly did not know.”
I scoff. “Even if I did believe you—which I don’t—what makes you think I would enjoy being Master Coperie’s mistress?
What gave you the right to choose such a thing for me?
Did you think the man who gave me these”—I wave my scarred arms in the air—“would be a considerate lover? True, I never had my first bleed. True, he never got to take me to bed. But you could not have known that.”
“But he did not touch you,” he says quietly.
“No, he didn’t touch me,” I say, sugarcoating my voice. “He burning tortured me instead!”
Seniia, glaring daggers at Llyr, rushes forward, pulling me into her embrace. Stepping back, she cups my face, staring me straight in the eyes. “Dear gods, La?na. I’m so sorry. If I had known . . .” She trails off, a lost look on her face.
“Even if you had known,” I whisper, the words catching in my dry throat, “there was nothing you could have done. I was soulbound, remember?”
She squeezes me tight again.