chapter thirty
I HEAR THEM LONG BEFORE I see them, and it isn’t until now I realize that not only do I see perfectly fine in the dark, but I can also smell Seniia’s and Vilder’s distinctive scents as I approach.
I shudder to think what I must have smelled like to them before, if this heightened sense of smell is a Reān’s reality.
My physical strength and agility, though, seem to be about the same.
Is this why Vilder would throw things at me when I was unaware? To see if I would catch them? Did he know? Although I’m fairly certain he is not a god who can see through glamours, he’s always looked at me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.
“She’s coming,” Seniia says, her voice eager. “I can feel her. Can you feel her? And do you think she made it, Vilder?” Without waiting for an answer, she continues, “Oh, dear Mah, I hope she did. I hope she got what she was searching for.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, I have to stifle a laugh. I can scarcely begin to imagine Vilder’s frustration at having to listen to her rant for bells. At least I think it’s been bells.
With a glance up toward the statues of Mah and Zerex, I pass through before I have time to debate whether it’s safe or not. Knowing that Zerex didn’t want this particular outcome, I wouldn’t put it past him to burn me to ashes on my way out. On the other hand, Astēr said he’s bound by our contract.
A wave of relief washes over me as I make it to the other side unharmed.
“Well, you’ve certainly changed.”
I turn at the dry remark to find Vilder leaning against the pillar. Seniia, for once, is shocked into silence. Her gaze lingers on me, processing.
“It is you,” she finally says. “I can feel that it is you. The bond is the same.” Her gaze glides across my features—the ones that are visible with the many layers of skins I’m wearing, anyway. “But I have to agree with Vilder for once. You have certainly changed.”
“For the better, I hope?” I say with a sheepish smile. At least my voice sounds the same.
And then we’re all laughing, and they both run toward me, pulling me into their embrace.
Gods, does it feel good to finally belong somewhere.
“I was so worried!” Seniia wipes her tears. “And now look at you.” She steps back to take me in all over again, then reaches forward to lift my long pearlescent hair to reveal my ears. “Look! Look, Vilder!” She’s practically dancing as she smiles from ear to ear. “She’s Reān!”
“Thought so.” Vilder steps back, his expression unreadable.
Seniia’s head whips toward Vilder.
“You knew?” the two of us say in unison.
Vilder flips his dagger as he moves farther back with casual ease. “Come on, Seniia. Are you that blind?” Keeping his gaze locked on Seniia, he flicks his wrist, sending his dagger spinning toward me with skilled precision.
Pure instinct has me grabbing it by its hilt a fraction of a heartbeat later. He has been testing me.
“See?” Vilder’s eyes are fixed on Seniia.
Pulling myself together, I shoot him a furious glare. “Are you out of your mind? You could have killed me!”
“Doubtful.”
Seeing his smirk, I fling the dagger back at him.
After snatching it out of the air, he sheathes it at his waist. “I’ve been sparring with you, La?na.
No one ever learns that fast, and certainly not a human.
And”—he strokes his wolf—“Gray may have sensed something was amiss.” The wolf lets out a deep rumble.
“I don’t know what Llyr told Calix, but from what I understand, Calix believes you were already a skilled fighter before you came to the Arc. ”
“You are being kind,” I say. He can’t be serious. “You go easy on me when we spar.”
“Easy?” Vilder sputters.
I shrug. “Yes?”
He gives me a deadpan look. “In the beginning, of course, but fuck, La?na. You are good. Why do you think Calix always pairs the two of us?”
I have no answer.
Seniia taps her pursed lips with a finger, a slight frown on her face. “This explains why you were still alive when poisoned with godsbane,” she says after a while.
“As well as that slippery scent she was wearing,” Vilder says.
“And her dancing skills,” Seniia adds.
Vilder gives a thoughtful nod of agreement. “There is certainly a lot of muscle memory stored in her.”
“Can’t believe she wore a glamour.” Seniia shakes her head in bewilderment.
They stare at each other in what must be their first-ever agreement.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “How could I have been wearing a glamour all these years? I thought magic didn’t work inside the Void? And what do you mean, muscle memory?”
“Humans die, Reāns are reborn, remember?” Vilder says, as if that should explain everything.
“And?”
“And although we usually don’t remember who we were the last time, we are born with the same skills when reborn. It is possible to go a whole life without brushing the topic of your expertise, of course, but fate will usually bring us to it sooner or later.”
Nana must have been a better fighter than I thought. I must be a better fighter than I thought. On the other hand, she did best Astēr in hand-to-hand combat the first time I dreamed about them. It makes me wonder what other skills I may have that I’m unaware of.
“In regards to your glamour, all Llyr had to do was tie up the weave before you entered the Void, and it stays put. It’s the same with a magical item, like your shadowshard, or a brace.
But you cannot access elēn. Gifts, on the other hand .
. .” He tilts his head. “Without ever having been inside the Void, my guess is that they should work, since they are a part of your physique and don’t require access to elēn. ”
He draws back slightly, eyes thoughtful as they sweep over me. “Quite the powers you’ve got there though.”
Seniia abruptly halts the pirouettes she’s been performing to stay warm, her breath forming frosty puffs. “How could I not notice that? You’re practically humming, La?. How many glyphs?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Like the two of you, perhaps?” I brush it off with a shrug, although I’m almost certain there are more.
I can sense their powers now too. And I also notice the clear difference between them and the omnipotent powers that surround Astēr.
Vilder doesn’t seem too convinced, but he lets it be. Gaze fixed on my face, his eyes trace every detail. “No wonder he looked as if he wanted to devour you,” he mumbles.
“What?” Seniia gives him a playful shove. “You fancy La?na now, Vilder?”
His eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline. “Don’t be ridiculous, Seniia.” He snorts. “I don’t have a death wish.”
She frowns.
“Have you never seen paintings or drawings of Astēr and his mate?”
Seniia shakes her head, but then her mouth forms a silent O.
Vilder’s gaze lowers to my swollen lips. He arches a brow.
I blush. Fuck him and his attention to detail. And thank the gods for the bath, or he would do more than lift a brow.
“He was there.” It’s not even a question.
“Astēr was there?” Seniia appears about ready to swoon. “Oh, this is so romantic.” Her hand goes to her heart. “Like a fairy tale!” Her face turns serious. “Dear Mah, no wonder he refused to kill you.”
I give them a recap of what little information Astēr shared with me in the cave.
“A conflict between the primordial deities.” Vilder’s mouth presses into a firm line. “Wars have been waged for less.” He throws a cautious glance toward the statues of Mah and Zerex as a low, resonant hum, like the deep thrum of a giant drum, emanates from the enormous winged wolves.
“Let’s get out of here,” Seniia suggests, stomping her staff. Somehow, her serpent doesn’t seem to mind the cold. I guess its feathers keep it warm. I shake my head, not sure if I’ll ever get used to the thing.
We walk in silence, the stillness of the night broken only by the eerie crunch of our boots on the frozen ground.
“So . . .” Seniia says after a while, giving me an arched-brow look. “What happened between you and—”
Vilder’s sudden weight slams both of us to the ground, the impact jarring my teeth.
A high-pitched twang rips through the air as an arrow whizzes past, a chilling breath of death against my face.
I bring my hand to my cheek, feeling the sticky warmth of blood.
My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat, as I scan our surroundings for the archer.
With all five moons at their fullest, the Plains of Death are bathed in an eerie pastel-colored hue.
“Surrender her.” The commanding voice rings through the night. Marduk.
There is no doubt who “her” is.
“Take Seniia and go,” I say to Vilder. They have already done so much, and I don’t want them to get hurt.
Vilder shakes his head, his expression telling me there’s no use arguing, while Seniia squeezes my hand. “We go down together.”
MARDUK STRIDES TOWARD US, FOLLOWED by three archers, their arrows nocked and aimed. My breath catches in my throat, heart slamming against my ribs like a caged bird. I notice Llyr, Ilyana by his side not far behind, but he avoids my questioning stare.
“Surrender her if you want to live.” Marduk’s voice leaves no room for argument.
Seniia weaves a protective shield, and despite the situation, I’m fascinated by the golden strings forming the dome around the three of us. For the first time, I notice that the use of elēn holds a petrichor scent—earth after rain.
“Wanting to live and getting to live are two different things entirely,” Vilder retorts, his voice carrying through the night in a way that tells me he’s using elēn to enhance it. Leave it to Vilder to pick up on the subtle nuances of the wording.
Marduk gives Vilder a hard stare.
“As you are only Accepted, we can forgive your lack of judgment, but this is about the greater good of Reā,” he says. “Now step aside and hand her over.”