Chapter 66
It wasn’t the first time Orra had been in the Elanesse dungeons, but considering Gaeren’s agitation, it was likely his.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered, his grip tightening on the bars as he leaned his forehead against them.
He peered down the dank hall as if one of the guards might suddenly appear and let them free.
Marnok and Rildan sat with Emeris on the sorry excuse for a mattress in the opposite corner.
“I find that very little makes sense without a broader perspective than we might find from within these walls,” Orra said.
Gaeren snorted, but Orra shot out her hand and grabbed his wrist, turning his palm over to see the scar from his bond mark.
He pulled away from the bars, watching her warily, waiting for her judgment.
She pulled back his sleeve and ran a finger over the braid around his wrist, sensing Aeliana’s essence in it, feeling how it reached through time, marking her identity in ways the others couldn’t sense.
“Is there a significance to your bracelet?” Orra asked quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.
Gaeren stiffened, and Orra knew his noetic skills were bringing back every detail of the moment he’d asked about her own braid.
“It wasn’t a gift, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said.
“That’s not what I’m asking.” Orra released his wrist, and he covered the braid before leaning his forehead against the bars once more. The little she could see of his face in the shadows was lined with concern. “There’s no shame in admitting she’s more than a bondmate.”
“You said he was more like a brother.” Gaeren glanced at Orra’s own braid. “I can’t see her as a sister. Not like I did when we were children.”
“There’s no shame in that either.” Orra held back her smile, worried he might feel mocked.
“She’s your other half. Maybe because of your childhood.
Maybe in spite of it. You have to figure out what it means.
It might not mean the same thing for you as it means for me.
Unfortunately, it also might not mean the same thing for her. ”
He reached under his sleeve and twisted the braid. “Our paths keep crossing, but it could be a long time before they fully align. What if it simply means I’m supposed to protect her?”
“There’s no shame in that either,” Orra said softly.
Disappointment flitted across the young man’s face.
He’d have to figure it out on his own. She turned away, leaving him to his brooding so she could face Rildan, Marnok, and Emeris instead, the plink of water from a drain in the corner the only sound carrying between them.
It brought back memories of Orra’s days in this prison as Captain Redwood, and she wrapped her cloak tighter around her, scanning the stone floor for rats.
“It’ll be all right.” She said the words for the others, but more for herself. “They can’t ignore us in here forever.”
“Will your father give us another hearing?” Emeris asked wearily. When Gaeren didn’t answer, Orra turned to find his head angled their direction, brow furrowed as he studied a greenish puddle by his boot.
“He won’t give you another hearing, but he’s likely to hear me out. I suppose that’s what Enla saw that made her tell me to vouch for you.”
“There’s some of that broader perspective,” Orra murmured.
He let go of the bars to bang them with his fists instead, then flopped down on the ground. He immediately stood again with a grimace, wiping at the damp spots on the back of his trousers. “I didn’t even think they used this place anymore.”
“They probably don’t,” Orra said. “But then they’ve never captured a Wyndren before. Only a handful of kings and queens have used this place.”
“It’s probably been here since Queen Amaya ruled,” Gaeren muttered.
“No,” Orra corrected. “It was built at least a hundred years after.”
He squinted over at her. “I suppose you would know. You were probably around when she ruled. Riveran and I wondered if she was a descendant of yours. Her statue looks like you.”
Orra raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember the name of every persona I’ve taken on, but some are impossible to forget.”
His face blanched and his mouth swung open. “You were Queen Amaya?”
The others gave startled gasps, making Orra regret the admission. How was it this group of Recreants managed to make her give up details of her past that she’d always preferred to keep hidden?
“I guess that makes you some sort of great-great-great—and then some—grandson of mine.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting wildly as he put the pieces of her past together. “And that’s why the Elanesse line has so much magic. Not because your son killed a Star, but because he already had such a high concentration from you.”
Orra lifted a shoulder. “Both factors played a role.” She’d been newly grounded in those days, floundering in her grief. She’d felt old instead of ageless, but after hundreds more years stuck on the earth, she looked back, and her former self seemed so young and foolish.
Despite being lost, she’d risen in the ranks quickly, catching the eye of the sad and lonely king whose parents had expired in the War of the Great Divide.
Ruling the people had been a way for her to maintain some of the authority she’d been stripped of.
It had felt right, even though now she knew it wasn’t.
That authority had been removed for a reason.
“How does Aeliana fare?” Emeris’ tentative question startled both Gaeren and Orra.
Gaeren pulled away from the bars and clenched his fists. Orra held back a smile, sensing the change in him, both physically and emotionally.
“She’s well,” he said, “but they’re sailing north and east to head for the Myndren Mountains.
I don’t know how we’ll keep them from falling right into Mayvus’ trap.
So Aeliana might not be well for long.” He pounded on the prison bars once more.
“I never should have left. Maybe Enla didn’t reel me in to a trap, but I’m stuck all the same.
I thought I could stand by Enla’s side and serve the Recreants from a place of power. Actually do something to help them.”
“We’ve all placed bets with our decisions,” Marnok said. “And now we’ve lost the gamble.”
“My parents can be… ruthless with their authority, but every decision they make is calculated with precision.” Gaeren paced the small chamber.
“I don’t know why they wouldn’t at least listen to you.
The fact that you oppose Mayvus should be enough to convince them to listen.
They hate her after having been branded by her. ”
Rildan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I’d forgotten they were branded. A lot has happened to us in the last few moons. And I’m sure a lot has happened to you. Who’s to say they haven’t been through a lot as well? For all we know, they’re branded again.”
“Supposedly Tobias has been keeping watch over that,” Gaeren muttered. “But now I wonder if he’s up to something with all those tonics he gives Mother.”
As the heaviness of their situation settled over all of them, their stories came out. Rildan and Marnok filled in most of the gaps for Gaeren when it came to Myndren’s presumed fall and their premature escape, while Gaeren gave details about the others’ time on Sayhla Island.
“The Sayhleens were always a proud people,” Orra mused.
“Not in a haughty way like the Ahmranans, but in an honorable way. They had to defend themselves against everyone else who saw them as inferior ever since they were cursed by the sprites. Although that was a thousand years ago. People groups change just as much as individuals.”
Gaeren’s brow furrowed, and she waited for him to finish his story, to tell of the way he and Aeliana had broken their bonds together. When she was stronger, she could have read his memories in a blink to learn the details for herself. Now… well, now she couldn’t spare the magic.
But Gaeren had latched on to her words, picking them apart until he needed answers to his own questions. “Velden told us the Sayhleens worship the sprites, but it seems like they don’t even know what they worship. If they met the sprites I met, they’d want nothing to do with them.”
Orra hummed, letting her mind sift through the little she knew of the sprites. Like most of the Stars, she’d found them detestable because of their origins, but since being grounded, she’d merely avoided them. How much more could she offer if she’d taken the time to learn more about them?
“Perhaps they wouldn’t want to worship them,” she admitted. “But Aeliana and Cyrus were surprised that you could worship a Sun who seemed harsh and unforgiving. A Sun whose favor has to be earned when the Stars they worship freely give their love.”
Emeris sat up straighter. “Surely Aeliana doesn’t still worship the Stars? Not after all the ways I trained her back in Myndren?”
“You even told us they were wrong about the Stars,” Gaeren added. “That the Sun was the creator.”
Orra closed her eyes and sighed. “You heard the truth you wanted. Yes, the Sun is the creator. But its love far exceeds what the Lorvandans believe about the Stars. The benevolence Stars can give is a mere reflection of the love given by the Sun. Your perspective is also tainted.”
“Are you suggesting some of what the Sayhleens believe is true?” Gaeren asked.
“I’m suggesting they are just as confused and biased as everyone else.
And that they shouldn’t be looked down upon for believing the parts they understand.
We call them cursed by the sprites. They call themselves created by the sprites.
So they worship their creator. They don’t have to like the sprites in order to respect them.
Fear can breed respect. Sometimes it’s unhealthy. But it’s still respect.”
“If the sprites created the Sayhleens,” Gaeren asked, “who created the sprites? I can’t imagine the Sun, whom you describe as so loving, would create such terrible creatures.” His words came out bitter, and Emeris flinched.
“Of course they were created by the Sun,” the priestess said. “Everything was.”
“What about creatures who become dark spirits when they die?” he asked.
Even Orra stilled at that. “The dark spirits,” she murmured, piecing together things she’d seen over the years, truths she’d not taken the time to fully understand. “It’s a progressive deterioration. And also a cyclical form of destruction.”
“What are you talking about?” Gaeren asked.
“Haven’t you noticed the way the sprites hold characteristics of people? They’re obsessed with knowledge and power. A certain type of person is willing to do anything to seek out that power.”
“Are we talking about Mayvus now?” Gaeren asked.
“Mayvus is a prime example,” Orra admitted.
“But she is one of many over the last thousand years. Really since the beginning of time. Sprites were created by the Sun in their original form, but they’re a twisted version of their past. Some of them I recognize.
But not all. My reclusive lifestyle has kept me from meeting everyone who chose that path over the years. ”
Gaeren’s face paled. “Are you saying—? Are sprites people who once practiced blood magic?”
Orra nodded, her heart aching. “They can’t obtain the ultimate power they seek, but they come just close enough that it’s clear they’ve severed all hope of reconciliation with the Sun.
They can’t leave Rhystahn and join the Sun in death, so they take a new form.
And again, as you’ve pointed out, when they die as sprites, they become wisps of darkness, bent on repeating the cycle with new people practicing blood magic. ”
Gaeren’s mouth swung open in disbelief.
“They become even less of what they once were,” Orra said. “Because at one time, they were all half-lights.”
“Maybe Riveran had the right idea,” Gaeren muttered. “Maybe we should kill them all.”
“And yet the Sun finds ways to use them, even in their darkness.” Orra blinked away the tears threatening to spill over and glanced at Marnok, whose cheeks turned pink.
The grind of metal on metal met their ears, and everyone turned to the hall. A soldier led a man, bent by age, in a slow, painful walk to their cell.
“Father Fernandus,” Gaeren breathed out.
“May the Sun’s light give you guidance in whatever troubles you,” the old priest murmured, stumbling to his knees on the stone.
The soldier looked like he might offer assistance, but the priest waved him off, then continued gesturing for the soldier to back up.
“Let the boy speak his confessions in private.”
The soldier hesitated but eventually stepped away.
“Enla sends her love,” Fernandus whispered and winked.
“She has a funny way of showing it,” Gaeren said. “She needs to give a message to Riveran. Tell him to use the bead. He needs to tell Aeliana that Mayvus gathers her army at Ahmranan’s Viewpoint. Aeliana needs to turn back because Emeris is here.”
“And what about you?” Fernandus asked. “How can I help you?”
Gaeren shook his head. “When my father decides I’ve learned some sort of lesson, he’ll let me loose. It’s these people you need to help.” He gestured behind him, and Fernandus took in Orra, Emeris, Marnok, and Rildan.
The old man’s gaze rested on Orra. “Sun help us all.” His voice held awe. “You’re here to fix everything.”
Orra went still, then dropped to her knees, ignoring the way the stone jarred her bones. “What have you seen?”
He shook his head. “I’ve heard whispers. In the silence of the morning. When the Sun’s rising in the east. A Star to guide us all.” He reached out and placed a gnarled hand on her cheek. “Your burden is heavy. The Sun will make it light.”
“You’re not—” Gaeren started, then hesitated. “Only progenies can sift the future.”
“But the Sun can speak when it pleases.” Orra closed her eyes in relief. “Thank you, Father.”
The soldier cleared his throat. “I think you’ve all had enough prayer for today.”
“There’s never enough,” Orra said even as Father Fernandus accepted the soldier’s hand to rise. A warmth rose in her, stirred up by the hope in the priest’s words. It bled through to her skin, making it take on the faintest of glows.
The old man winked at them all again. “May the Sun’s light always shine upon you,” he called as he left.
“And may the Stars’ light always…” Gaeren turned back to Orra, his voice softening. “May the Stars’ light always guide you.”
The others all stared at her, and she turned to the bars, taking up Gaeren’s former position.
“We should take turns resting,” Rildan finally said. “It’s bound to be a long night.”
“You all go ahead,” Orra murmured. “I have no need for sleep. Just the Sun’s light.”
She closed her eyes and leaned against the cold metal, wondering when she’d next be graced by its rays.