Chapter 14 #2
‘I can’t do anything about the scars, I’m afraid. The Acolyte’s magic is utterly unfazed by the power of the Five,’ Alaris said. ‘It’s why this Realmbreak is so important. Why we all must be in prayer for the gods to grant us a blessing.’
‘Could it end the war?’ Ezer asked.
Alaris pursed her lips. ‘That, I do not know,’ she admitted. ‘But it could give us a fighting chance.’
Ezer nodded, and noticed Alaris’ eyes were still on her scars. ‘I’m not certain I’d know what to do with my own reflection, anyhow, without the scars. I guess it’s fitting for a Raphonminder. I’m more suited for a dirty cloak than Sacred whites.’
‘Ah,’ the woman said, smiling. ‘Well, for what it’s worth … I think the most beautiful attribute in a woman is strength.’ She placed a warm hand over Ezer’s. ‘Seems you’ve more than enough of that.’
When she slipped out into the halls now, they were nearly empty.
It was just the crackling torches and the sound of the wind howling against the stained-glass windowpanes.
They were lovely, marked with swirling gold runes, depictions of the gods’ many forms, and some with war eagles poised for flight.
She took her time exploring, until she found herself back on the path towards the library. Like her mind simply knew it longed to be among books.
She passed a few servants, who inclined their heads and kept pace.
In darkness, the Knights were out fighting, and the Scribes were busy sleeping off the hard work of preparing for war during the day.
The Eagleminders were probably busy inside the Aviary – still off limits to her, not because of Kinlear, but because she knew if she entered, she’d run into Zey.
She wondered, come morning, how many Knights would return from the Expanse.
And for a surprising moment … she was grateful Arawn would not be among the fighters.
He would be with the younglings, if what Kinlear said was true. It seemed a demotion for a crown prince. A punishment.
But for what?
She tucked the thought away as she reached the library.
It was calm inside, save for the crackling hearths and every so often, that telltale rumble of the war beyond the Citadel's stones and windows.
She began where she started, with the stacks of books she’d left. There was a cozy spot on the third floor, where a chair sat before the fire, so large it could have held two people with ease.
Ezer sighed as she sprawled out across the cushions, the tension leaving her shoulders.
There was no company as lovely as a comfortable chair and a good book.
Though, she supposed, she could do with more entertaining literature, for the book in her lap was an old, dusty tome, and had nothing to do with ravens or raphons.
She’d decided to learn about the panthers instead: the enormous ones that ran wild in the Dornan Hills out west.
Birds, Ezer knew plenty about. Cats? Now that was a different story entirely. And perhaps that was what she’d need to brush up on instead, if she was to truly tame the beast waiting for her. It was half cat, after all.
She spent some time flipping through the pages, past sketches revealing the way a panther hunted, how they truly had the behavior of large house cats, sometimes. But other times – they were cold-blooded killers, eager to stalk and hunt and shred their prey with their sharp claws and canines.
She learned that sunlight was a cat’s best friend.
She doubted Six had ever seen much of it, had ever truly felt it warm her fur or her wings. She took note of that for later, and shut the book, yawning.
By now, Zey had to be asleep.
She stood, slowly stretching her arms, and had just begun her way down to the first floor, when she heard the library doors swing open.
Several figures entered.
The first two wore white robes, with golden bands on their arms.
The War Table.
The highest-ranking Sacred Masters, in charge of each pillar of magic inside the Citadel.
And behind them …
Alaris, the Healer. She spoke in hushed whispers to a broad figure in long white robes who seemed intent to leave her behind.
He had a crown upon his dark curls.
Ezer’s eyes widened.
The King.
She hadn’t seen him in years, not since she was a child and he rode through town in the Allgodsday procession.
He was a large man, a warrior built for battle instead of the luxury of a throne.
She knew he reigned from here, in the Citadel, while Queen Dhyana stayed in Touvre to watch over the southern half of the kingdom.
For some reason, Ezer feared him.
She’d heard he was not a kind ruler. Rather, a bold one, furious as he set his sights on destroying the Acolyte.
She quickly ducked behind one of the shelves and watched from the shadows as the group walked by.
‘It’s the third time this season,’ Alaris said softly. ‘How many times can one pay penance?’
Penance.
A word Izill had mentioned … She backed further into the shadows, with her scarred eye still seeing clear as day.
‘As many times as it takes,’ said the King.
His voice was deeply accented, eerily similar to Arawn’s.
But he had Kinlear’s dark curls, peppered through with bits of grey.
He’d paused to lean against one of the shelves and catch his breath.
Strange, for a warrior so famed to struggle walking across the flat, even ground as if he were climbing up a hill.
Alaris reached out a hand. ‘Do you need—’
‘No,’ the King growled. He stood back up to his full height, though she could see it pained him. ‘Save your strength. It is needed for the mark.’
‘But … she’s one of our best,’ Alaris pleaded. ‘And sometimes, I fear she might—’
The King spun round, his gaze fierce.
His face.
It was gaunt. Dark shadows pooled beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days. He did not look like a man in his forties, fresh-faced and dark-haired like he had been in the processions only a decade ago.
But it looked like many decades had passed for him, given how grey his curls were, how pale his skin.
The rumors were true.
Channeling the gods’ power was truly taking its toll.
‘We do as the gods say,’ the King growled. ‘Or we risk facing their wrath.’
‘Of course,’ Alaris said, taking a step back. ‘Forgive me.’
‘Ask the gods for forgiveness,’ the King said. ‘Not me.’
Their voices faded as they continued deeper into the library.
Ezer risked a glance out of the shadows. She wanted to follow them – her curiosity would be what killed her someday, Ervos had always warned – but she also wasn’t a fool. She wouldn’t spark the rage of the King, and risk getting caught.
Penance.
The word made her insides turn.
A yawn left her lips, unwelcome and unavoidable.
It had to be past eleven by now.
She’d wasted enough time that the coast was clear, at least … so she crept back out into the main corridor. She’d made it halfway across the common area, past the crackling hearth, when she heard another door creak open.
And then footsteps were heading her way.
Ezer glanced left and right, but there was nowhere to go this far out in the open in the center of the library.
She turned on instinct, glancing over her shoulder.
And froze.
Zey.
‘By the gods,’ Ezer whispered to no one. She braced herself for a slew of hurtful comments as she locked eyes with the Eagleminder.
‘Here to spy, Wolf Bait?’ asked Zey, as she came into the firelight.
Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying. It took her harsh edges away. Made her look, for a moment, a bit more human.
‘You’re … what is that?’ Ezer said and pointed at Zey’s hand.
It was a fresh rune of some sort, but furious red, almost charred at its edges.
More like a burn than carved with magic.
It was in the shape of a small five-pointed star, the sigil of each Pillar at its points.
A small flame, a water droplet, a curl of wind, a mountain for the realm, and a tailed star for the Ehver.
Zey pressed her hand to her side, failing to hide her wince. ‘It’s none of your concern. Now get out of my way. I’m ten minutes past my bedtime, and I don’t like to break my schedule. I need my beauty sleep if I’m to keep looking this good.’
She tried to shoulder past, but Ezer reached out a hand. ‘Did … did they do that to you? The War Table?’
‘Get your hand off me unless you wish to lose it,’ Zey growled. ‘I did this to myself, brought it upon myself when I failed in the demonstration earlier this week.’
‘But …’ Ezer stared at the wound.
That was her fault. In a way.
Was this what Alaris and the others were here for?
Penance.
She couldn’t fathom the healer having done this to anyone. The King, perhaps …
But they wouldn’t lay a hand on their own Sacred.
Would they?
Zey stared at her, considering. And then she surprised Ezer when she said, ‘You’re new here, Wolf Bait. So let me give you a piece of advice. If they ask you to take their vows, to become reinstated as one of us …’ She glanced over Ezer’s shoulder, into the shadows. ‘Don’t.’
Then she turned and left before Ezer could reply.
Ezer was about to follow her, when the doors opened again.
And Kinlear Laroux strolled in.
Don’t notice me, Ezer thought as she ducked her head and tried to avoid his gaze.
‘Raphonminder!’
Damn the gods.
She paused, sighing deeply before she turned to face him. She just wanted to go to sleep, to bury herself beneath her blankets. She’d had more than her fair share of speaking to people today.
‘Your Highness.’ She forced a smile. ‘Shouldn’t you be Minding an eagle, or flying in battle, or …’
Or locking people in cages with bloodthirsty raphons, she thought.
‘If you must know, I was banned from battle years ago, thanks to my injury,’ Kinlear said. His hand tensed over his cane, and she realized, in horror, that she might have just offended him. If he was injured … he wouldn’t be able to fly in the war, like all the princes before him. And after him.
Penance.
The memory of Zey’s hand flashed before her eyes.