chapter sixteen #2
More seekers follow. Some circle once, others circle several times before they choose.
I have no idea how they know where to go.
Intuition maybe. Three, including the beautiful female with the twisted braids, choose Tiran.
Another two males join Seniia next to Briah, while Xepher and Cyra get two each.
Now it’s Vilder’s turn. He doesn’t even circle once.
He walks straight to Xepher, who greets him in a way that makes it clear that they, too, know each other.
What was it he said to Seniia the day we arrived?
That he was the same as her? No, that he held the same rank as her.
I chew on my lip. Was he raised at a temple too?
I’ll have to remember to ask him. Not that it means I’ll get an answer out of him.
Pausing my sketch, I take in the male now walking around the circle.
He must have walked at least seven rounds by now.
He is as handsome as any Reān male—tall, athletic, lethal, with waves of golden hair falling toward his broad shoulders—but he has noticeably fewer glyphs than the others, perhaps seven or eight at the most. The keeper clears his throat, and the shoulders of the male trailing the circle stiffen.
After another half circle, he steps next to Cyra.
“Would you have liked to join them?”
I snap my sketchbook shut and spin around at the sound of his all-too-familiar voice, the same voice that echoes in my dreams night after night.
What is he doing here? His hand sweeps through the inky-blue waves of his hair, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
His full, sensual, impossibly perfect lips.
The very same ones I watch kissing Nana night after night.
Pull yourself together, La?na. I don’t know what’s come over me recently, but I do know I dislike the loss of control it induces.
His upper lip curls back as he runs his tongue across his fangs, and a vivid image sweeps through my mind: Him fisting her hair and pulling her head back.
Him biting down on her neck, drinking deep.
Him pounding in and out of her until he loses any resemblance of the neatly executed control he radiates right now.
Breathing deep, I do my best to calm myself, but instead, I inhale his scent and .
. . Pine. Earth. Home. Primal needs push their way forward, and before I can prevent it, my body has taken on a life of its own.
A delicious flutter erupts low in my stomach, quickly escalating into a wildfire of sensation.
My breath hitches as his nostrils flare, and his sharp gaze locks with mine.
He lifts a single eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips.
There is no way . . . Is there? Because if I didn’t know any better, I would think he was sensing my response to him.
Leaning back against the white heartstone wall, he crosses his arms over his chest, then drags his gaze away from me, fixing it on the seekers below. “You haven’t answered my question.”
My mouth is dry as dust, tongue clinging to my palate. I swallow, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my throat. When I speak, the words feel distant, as if someone else is saying them. So much for composure.
“I don't know.” I manage a shrug. “It would have been nice, I guess.” I don’t particularly care for the magic, but to belong somewhere . . . I sigh.
There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Empathy? Understanding? No. He’s Reān. There’s no way he can know what I feel.
I turn my attention back to the circle. Their ceremony is coming to an end. Now dressed in midnight robes, the Accepted are handed the same small leather purses the C’elēn carry at their waists.
My eyes flicker to Astēr’s waist. “How come you don’t carry a pouch?” It slips out before I can stop the question from escaping my lips. I don’t really want to interact with him, do I?
He tilts his head. “What makes you think I’m one of them?” He sounds genuinely curious.
“I don’t know. That you disappear into thin air in the middle of conversations, for one.” And the sheer aura of power that surrounds him. It vibrates, humming against my skin.
He laughs then, and may the gods have mercy on me, because the sound of it—vibrant, melodious—pierces straight to my heart, filling its many cracks and empty spaces.
It’s like the touch of a sunbeam in a dark long-lost cave.
Warmth spreads through the emptiness within, and gods help me if it does not feel like salvation.
Forcing my attention back to the courtyard, I see Seniia as she removes her blindfold and steps forward. Pressing her palms to the ashina’s, she unwaveringly holds her ice-blue gaze as she lays down her oaths.
“I swear to tell no lies and to seek the truth above all else. I swear to take no lives unprovoked and understand that to kill is only a last resort, to protect my own life or that of another who cannot protect themselves. Last but not least, I swear that I will strive to use my powers for the good of all and to fight against the Void. I understand that to break my oaths is punishable by the loss of my powers and, in the worst case, death.”
I shoot him a sideways glance. “The C’elēn cannot lie?”
“No. Not unless they break their oaths.”
Does that mean that Llyr told me the truth, then? It has to. Did he really not know how Master Coperie was treating me? I find that hard to believe.
“Llyr . . .” I begin.
“Was telling the truth.”
My body stiffens.
“The gods often demand difficult choices,” Astēr says, but there’s a bitter edge to his words. “That doesn’t make the consequences less painful or excuse his ignorance, of course.” A frown creases his brow, betraying his displeasure.
I frown. “What does—”
He cuts me off by gesturing toward the seekers, who are wrapping up their ceremony. “You should watch. It’s why you came.”
Despite the millions of questions on the tip of my tongue, I do as he suggests.
The last one of the group steps back into the circle after giving his oaths.
The keeper strikes his scepter into the heartstone five times, the sound ringing through the courtyard, and then there’s a moment of silence, where the ashina stands with her eyes closed, waiting.
“The goddess has spoken. You are all Accepted.”
The shoulders of the one with the fewest glyphs drop. Had the possibility of not succeeding crossed his mind?
“In the night sky, the shining soul stars are there to remind us of the presence of light, even in the midst of darkness. May you, the Accepted, be filled with the same light of inspiration and clarity. Go in peace.” She bows her head, and the circle of Accepted around her bow back before they trail out the eastern archway.
I glance over my shoulder, looking for Astēr, but he’s gone. Somehow, I’m not surprised.
Packing up my things, I make my way back through the pristine white gallery, the silence broken only by my footsteps and the distant sound of water from the streams. The air is slightly warmer now than in the early morning hours, and I cherish the sunrays reaching in through the open arches, caressing my skin as I hurry back toward my rooms. I’ll have breakfast, then meet Vilder for sparring practice.
I’m halfway down the winding corridor leading to my quarters when I hear hushed voices. I freeze. The curve of the hallway hides whoever they are, but their argument is unmistakable—and they’re headed this way.
“You are a disgrace to our family name. And a fool. Just like your mother.” The voice is deep, mature.
“I’m sorry, Uncle, I really am. But I didn’t feel a calling for any of them,” answers a younger male voice.
“Seven times! Seven times you walked that circle. And then you choose Cyra? As weak as you are, she will fry you alive. Have you lost all sense, Reü?”
“Well, I couldn’t circle one more time, now could I? You’ve already made it perfectly clear seven was more than enough.”
I step back into the shadow of a nearby alcove, pressing myself against the wall. Please don’t see me. Please. I hold my breath as the two of them walk past, but they don’t even glance in my direction. It’s the keeper and the blond male from the ceremony, the one with only a handful of glyphs.
“I do not know why I kept you. You are as useless as your father. You should not even be alive.” The keeper shakes his head, exasperation written all over his voice. “If I had not promised your mother . . .”
Reü visibly shrinks under his words.
Cold settles in my stomach. Is he implying to his nephew that he’d be better off if he were dead?
“I cannot comprehend how someone as weak as you could have possibly killed my sister at birth. My sister was gifted. Strong.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle. I . . .” He trails off.
What can he say? It isn’t his fault that his mother died during his birth.
“Do not even bother,” the keeper replies. “When she met him, she became a fool. And who is left to clean up their mess? I am.”
Reü hangs his head. “I said I’m sorry.”
“How about you stay alert and try to be helpful for a change? I want full reports of everything you see and hear this year.”
Reü straightens, a spark of hope flickering in his voice as he says, “I can do that. You can trust in me, Uncle.”
The keeper scoffs. “We will see.” Stopping outside a door down the hallway, he dismisses Reü by entering and closing the door in his face.
Reü doesn’t move right away. Instead, his rigid posture sinks into a slump as he stands there staring at the door. When it’s clear that his uncle isn’t coming back out, he turns and leaves.
With a sigh, I rub my face, massaging my temples, the pressure easing the throbbing behind my eyes. It seems mean-spirited people—or Reāns, in this instance—are everywhere.
From one of the hallway’s tall arched windows, I see Llyr striding across a bridge that connects the Arc’s numerous buildings.
My lips press into a tight line at the sight of him, unresolved tension flooding my body.
Is he going to pray again? I’ve noticed him at Mah’s shrine at all hours lately—whatever burden he carries, it’s eating at him.
The thought occurs to me that perhaps this situation is no easier for him than it is for me.
Or perhaps his worries run deeper than that.
I’ve barely seen him since the day I arrived and he ordered Vy to show me to my room.
Rooms. I had to laugh at the grandiosity of the suite.
Seniia and Vilder are staying in the sparse, plain shared rooms of the Accepted, while I have more space than I know what to do with.
The size of the draped bed is twice that of Master Coperie’s, and the floor-to-ceiling windows provide an incredible view.
Not to mention the sheer size of the wardrobe I’ve been handed, all in the beautiful Riverii cut: tight leggings and corsets in midnight blue, paired with long, flowing skirts and loose blouses—some with a neckline so low I haven’t dared to wear them yet—in subdued dusty pastel colors.
The split of the skirts, running all the way to the right hip, makes them easy to move freely—and fight—in, and even though I’m still struggling with feeling comfortable with them, I have to admit that the way you can easily release the skirt for combat training is clever.
And Maeve. That was a pleasant surprise. Recalling our reunion makes me smile. She seemed just as happy to see me as I was to see her, greeting me with a whinny and a soft kiss from her muzzle.
Despite my limited interactions with him this past week, Llyr has ensured Vy is available to assist me with even the smallest request. Still, the silken sheets and catered meals do little to soothe the furious blaze that erupts within me at the sight of him.
Even when confronted head-on, he has been unwilling to go into any detail regarding his actions, although he did say he was sorry and that his intentions were to protect me. Did he truly not know?
I drop into a deep curtsy as one of the C’elēn walks by, holding the posture until I’m sure they’ve passed me.
A small voice inside me whispers that I’m to blame as well.
I did my best to hide Master Coperie’s torture.
Not even Mrs. Cooker knew the true extent of it.
But torture aside, did he never consider the emotional damage living as someone’s property did to you?
The only answer I’ve gotten from him is that I will understand in time, but time is nothing if not relative, and in my opinion, too much time has gone without answers already.
There’s not much I can do though. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself and be expelled from the Arc.
If my nights are not spent here, I’m fair game for that brace again.
Let it go, La?na. You are better off than you could ever have dreamed of. Deciding I don’t want him to ruin my day, I set off down the hall toward my quarters before he can make it to where I am.