Chapter 27
‘Ican’t wear this!’ Ezer squealed in protest at the gown Izill laid on her dormitory bed.
It was not black, for starters.
It was a pure, snowy white.
And far too little fabric to be considered clothing. At least, for someone who had spent their days in dark leather and hooded cloaks better suited for warmth than becoming a spectacle.
‘You can and you will, or I’ll be infinitely offended seeing as I’m the one who requested it from the Ehvermage seamstress,’ Izill said.
She tsked and swiped salve over the new bruises on Ezer’s arms. All of them, courtesy of Six.
‘This is our way, Ezer. A gift given by the Five so that we can appease the humanity within us, the release we all need when we’ve been so pious to keep the laws.
’ She smiled and picked up the dress, holding it out to Ezer.
‘A shame I won’t be able to dance tonight, as I’m needed for extra hands in the kitchens.
Now, please. Just put it on. Then you can run back here and bury your beautiful figure beneath shadowy, raphon-scented fabrics once more. ’
‘But … I’m not feeling well,’ Ezer lied.
‘Gown,’ Izill said, and pointed to the bathing chambers. ‘Now.’
She yelped as Ezer tossed a piece of chocolate at her – she’d been busy stuffing her face, while Izill expertly combed through the tangles in her dark hair – and with a huff that reminded her of Six, Ezer trudged to the bathing chambers.
Gods, she thought, as she slipped into the dress and turned to the enormous mirror that took up half the wall. This most certainly will not do.
The dress was a noblewoman’s dream.
It was made of pristine, alabaster silk that shimmered in the torchlight.
The sleeves were long, the neckline modest, for of course even on Absolution, the Sacred had limits.
But the fabric that swam across her skin left little to the imagination, given how closely it hugged her every curve.
White and silver sparkled glittered across the hem, gradually turning the entire bottom half of the dress aglow.
It almost looked as if the wind were embracing her.
The same way Avane’s dress looked, on the many-headed statue.
She sighed, thinking of such power.
Because some part of her knew …
The wind was a bit like Six. She would not tell it what to do.
‘It’s devastating on you, Ezer,’ Izill squealed, as Ezer emerged, her arms wrapped around her middle. She sighed longingly. ‘What I’d give for a dress like that.’
‘Take it,’ Ezer said.
‘Quiet,’ Izill shushed her, and sat her down in front of a dressing mirror near the fire, where several others were already putting the finishing touches to their looks. Each one was in the color of their pillared god, with small details to match their magic.
And Ezer had never felt more out of place.
‘So what am I to do at this festive occasion?’ Ezer asked. ‘Without you by my side?’
‘It’s Absolution Day!’ Izill said as she began to work at Ezer’s curls.
‘For one, enjoy the winterwine. Just … go slow. And don’t bother asking how I know.
We all know what it’s like to wake up the next morning full of regret.
’ She laughed softly to herself. ‘As for what you’re to do?
Well … it’s the only time you’ll not pay penance for crossing our Sacred borders for an Unmatched.
Kisses, of course, and nothing more.’ When Ezer frowned, she said, ‘What? You thought us completely pious?’
Another woman giggled and tied a red silk mask over her eyes. ‘I’d need more hands to count the number of partners Prince Kinlear has taken into the shadows on Absolution.’
For some reason … that made her stomach sink.
‘And what about Prince Arawn?’ she dared ask.
‘No,’ Izill said. ‘Never, for him. Not once, in all his days.’
Izill tied a beautiful white feather mask over her eyes.
And for a moment, as she let the conversation of the other Sacred women wash over her … she could almost pretend she had grown up here, a part of this world.
That maybe she had been able to invocate. And maybe … she would have been Matched with someone.
Perhaps a prince with eyes as cerulean as the sea.
But as she left the room behind, following the flock of other women in various shades of dresses to match their magic …
Ezer caught a glimpse of herself in full.
She looked like a true Sacred, the mask concealing nearly every dark, raised scar on her face. Her hair was lovely, cascading down her shoulders and back in perfect ringlets. Not a snarl in sight, thanks to Izill.
She belonged here. The wards had proved it, when they let her in. She had a job and a purpose, a mission to complete …
So why did she still feel like a Ravenminder locked away in a tower?
Because you are not like them, her mind hissed. Because you are still a mystery to yourself, despite all you have discovered.
She curled a fist around her mother’s ring.
And as she left the dormitory behind, her gown glimmering in the torchlight …
A part of her still felt like she was dragging her old chains.
Absolution took place in the training room.
A comfort, at least, that she knew the space by now. But when she entered, expecting to see the enormous room bare …
She found it transformed.
Music flowed from the right, where a group of musicians plucked at stringed instruments. Tables and chairs had been brought in, piled with food and desserts in elegant displays that towered far over her head like sculptures themselves.
Masked Sacred drank from golden goblets: the famed blue winterwine that could only be harvested in the north.
Ezer had never seen true dancing, beyond snippets of what she’d witnessed in rundown taverns with Ervos.
But here … the Sacred danced.
The middle of the room was a whirlwind of every pillared shade, as Sacred Knights and Scribes spun about like they’d been practicing for centuries. Their movements were elegant, sweeping, perfectly in time to the strings.
And for a moment, with the late afternoon light spilling through the window wall, the dancers concealing the Expanse and the shadowstorm, far beyond the glass …
She could picture the war being over.
She could imagine the end of the Acolyte, and a world like this – the jewel of the north – being safe to go on as it pleased.
Forever … instead of just these few, fleeting hours. For when true night fell again … death would return like a promise. And some of the Sacred hiding behind these very masks, sweeping past her on the dance floor …
They would become nothing more than swords in the snow.
Nothing more than names on scrolls.
Ezer smoothed her gown and made her way to the winterwine table, needing a distraction from the emotions that washed over her. She’d tried ale and wine before, but she’d never loved the feeling it gave her. The loss of control.
She’d seen too much, what it could do to someone like Ervos.
A pang of sadness hit her anew.
Gods, she missed him.
She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted him to meet Six, stand at her side, help her with …
‘I thought I was the only one capable of looking so fine in both black and white,’ said a voice behind her. ‘And yet … here you are.’
And Ezer spun to find herself face to face with Kinlear. He wore a white mask in the shape of a wolf’s snout, his suit a lovely pale velvet with gold eagle wings stitched into the front pocket.
Simple, for him, despite his telltale golden chain and elegant white cane.
She smiled.
He was made for days such as this.
‘You clean up well enough, Prince Laroux,’ Ezer said. His familiar face was a relief. She smiled and leaned in as if to sniff the air around him. ‘Though … there’s a lingering scent of something strange upon you.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Is that … war bear?’
Kinlear’s eyes sparkled as he caught on to her game.
‘Oh, it’s something far worse,’ he said with a wink, and held out his arm for her to take.
She obliged, and he led her about the space, his cane clacking almost in time with the music.
His voice dropped as he leaned down towards her as if sharing a secret.
‘I heard a rumor there’s a strange and deadly beast hiding in this very castle.
’ His lips nearly grazed her ear as he whispered, ‘A raphon.’
‘No,’ Ezer gasped, and feigned surprise. ‘Surely there must be someone to Mind it?’
‘Oh, there is, My Lady,’ Kinlear said. ‘A fine Raphonminder. The best there ever was—’
‘The only,’ Ezer corrected him, but he lifted a finger and continued.
‘She is strong and brave and a little bit feisty, as Raphonminders should be. But rest assured. She’s brought down to earth by the brutally handsome assassin she’s rumored to train it with.’
‘Brutally handsome?’ Ezer asked and lifted a brow beneath her mask. ‘Are you certain?’
‘Certain as death,’ Kinlear said. ‘They say he’s so handsome one can hardly look upon him without drooling into their winterwine.’
At that, she laughed. And found herself warm and comfortable, as she held on to his arm.
She no longer feared him.
She could not fathom a world in which this prince, charming as he was, would dare lift a blade to her chest.
He stiffened, suddenly, his eyes narrowing through his mask.
‘And there is his nemesis,’ Kinlear said with a sigh. ‘We could run.’
‘We will do no such thing,’ Ezer said, and squeezed his arm.
She’d turned to find Arawn walking towards them through the crowd. His hair was braided back as usual, but instead of white, he wore red. It was the first time she’d ever seen him in color.
Warmth spread through her as he walked closer.
His mask was in the shape of flames and made with such a brilliant mixture of yellows and oranges, it truly could have been fire from Vivorr.
He came straight towards them. A solid presence to part the sea of Sacred.
Kinlear tensed beside her, where her hand still rested in the crook of his arm.
She had the sudden urge to pull it away, but then Arawn was before her.