Chapter 20 #3
Could two Sacred sense one another if they shared a god? She suddenly felt like he’d catch her in the lie, though it wasn’t entirely untrue.
‘Avane,’ the King said. ‘A god that has great power. Tell me, can you sense the current upon the wind now?’
She tried to swallow. But it felt like rocks were in her throat.
‘Tell me which direction the wind is flowing. Tell me what you sense right now.’
‘I …’ She glanced back at the harpist as a new song began. It suddenly felt too high-pitched. Too fast. ‘I’m not entirely—’
South, the wind whispered to her.
‘South,’ she echoed it. ‘Towards the Sawteeth, Your Highness.’
He nodded his approval and she released a nervous breath.
‘It often does, these days. Like it pulls us towards the darkness. Like Avane is insisting we stay in the fight. And fight, we will. Even those who are not trained properly. Even those … who may only be talented at minding ravens … and brandishing a lucky guess.’
Her stomach roiled again.
She hadn’t been convincing enough.
‘You were chosen by the gods,’ the King said, and she caught a glimpse of his hands as he settled them in his lap.
He wore rings like Kinlear, each one worth more than her life.
His skin was papery-thin and bruised, swollen with arthritis at the knuckles.
They were not at all the hands of a man in his forties.
‘And certainly chosen by Kinlear, who believes you to be something special. But make no mistake. No one is special. Not even me.’ He nodded to himself, as if he appreciated his own line.
‘You would not be my choice, Raphonminder, as you are clearly from a bloodline incapable of holding their vows to the Five.’
She didn’t dare defend herself.
Not to him.
She just took his wrath as he dealt it, knowing she would prove him wrong.
‘You are not trained in magic,’ he said. ‘By the looks of you, frail as you are, you certainly are not capable of doing anything to protect my son should the beast turn upon him.’
Darkness writhed inside her.
‘She won’t harm him,’ Ezer said. ‘She will do as I teach her to do. She will be ready. I have faith in that.’
‘Faith means little when it comes from an Unconsecrated.’ An uneven breath, as he seemed to grow tired of their one-sided conversation. ‘Make no mistake. If you fail to reach the deadline, if you fail to get the beast ready in time … it will have no place in our world.’
She sucked in an icy breath.
She didn’t want to believe his words, didn’t want to imagine that he would dare harm a creature as gentle, as lovely as Six.
But the second she met his eyes … she knew he would.
He would do anything, even waste himself away, if it meant saving Lordach.
‘I voted yes on this final mission in order to appease my son,’ he said.
She felt small in his gaze. She felt powerless.
She was powerless, next to him. ‘He has always been a loyal servant to the Five, capable of sensing things that others may not. But hear this, Raphonminder and take it to heart. Should you fail him … should you fail me …’ He smiled, and she felt her insides curl.
‘We will let the gods decide what your penance will be.’
He stood with a grunt.
But before he walked away, he paused, his shadow darkening the wardlight.
‘I suggest you get back to work, Raphonminder. And do not come to this temple again. Until you’ve proven yourself … take the one for the servants.’
She waited until he was gone.
Then she fled from the temple as fast as her sore legs could carry her, not breathing until she was in the safety of the shadowed halls beyond.
Morning came too soon, sleep evading her yet again.
She’d fallen asleep reading, too afraid to slide into her nightmares so soon after the King’s haunting words. She couldn’t erase the chill of them away.
‘Good morning.’ Izill swept in, hauling a breakfast cart as usual. ‘By the gods, you look exhausted. You need more rest.’
‘Hard to rest when the dreams turn into nightmares,’ Ezer said. ‘But you’re right. Coffee would certainly help, too.’ She quickly scooped up the book and tucked it into her cloak pocket for safekeeping, grateful Izill’s attention had gone to the pot of steaming coffee instead.
The book was Zey’s.
For some reason, Ezer had grabbed it a few nights back, unable to bear seeing it sitting there on Zey’s trunk … forgotten. She went back to it each night, thumbing through the blank pages. Perhaps she’d missed something on them, for Zey had been reading it so intently by the fire that final night.
But there was nothing, so Ezer decided it wasn’t a book at all, but rather a journal that Zey hadn’t the story to fill its pages with.
In some ways, it was easier to commiserate with Zey now that she was gone. The Eagleminder had been trapped here, all her life … like a Ravenminder in a tower.
A short breakfast later, during which Izill announced she’d counted Ezer’s yawns – seven, to be exact – and Ezer bid her friend goodbye.
She made it to the upper cliff without vomiting, and her legs did not ache as much as they had in the days before. Perhaps her training with Arawn was paying off.
Celebrate the small victories, Ervos had always said.
Ezer smiled to herself, wishing he were here to walk the steps with her. She wondered what he would think of Six. What he would think if he saw Ezer dressed in Sacred robes, conversing with two princes, taking orders from one and training with the other each time the sun set.
She was in a story of her own now, writing the pages fresh each day.
The stone in her pocket suddenly warmed.
About time, she thought, for she felt Arawn owed her an explanation of some sort. But before she could grab the stone and speak to him, she paused.
Because a single pair of footsteps marked the snow on the doorsteps of the old temple. When she went inside …
It was Kinlear.