Chapter 61
Exhaustion burned behind Andrian’s eyes. He rubbed at them, blinking against the mid-morning light.
He hadn’t slept much last night. But honestly? He didn’t mind a single bit.
Not with so much foreign happiness bubbling up in his chest. Not with the scent of moonlit jasmine and cedarwood still on his skin, not with the taste of Mariah still on his lips.
His eyes snapped open, landing on the back of her head as if pulled there by a tether. Her dark hair shone in the sunlight, swaying across her back as she rode on Kodie between Matheo and Signe. Bright laughter drifted back to him on the breeze, pulling a smile to his lips.
They were on their way to the staor, one of the few places on the continent with a deeply rooted magical connection to the god’s plane.
It was a day’s ride from Eyarfell, and Callamus had asked them to wait until the morning after the Solstice, when the energy would be at its peak.
Finally, Mariah’s magic would be unlocked, all that glorious light set free.
He was happy. And seeing her happy, too? There was nothing sweeter.
His nose burned like fire, his chest closing in. Andrian sneezed, rocking back in his saddle. He caught a flash of forest green as Mariah glanced back at him, a bit of a wince and a lot of humor on her face.
“You claim Leuxrithian blood, yet the coats of the brusi do not agree with you?”
Andrian scowled at Callamus. “I’m fine. Just a little hay fever.”
“Are you sure? Because you were fine until you mounted this morning. I didn’t know it was possible for one to be allergic to goats.”
“I’m not allergic to goats.”
“You lived most of your life in a palace. Have you ever been around a goat before?”
Andrian adjusted his grip on the reins. The shaggy beast beneath him tossed its head. His eyes still burned. “I’ve been around horses my entire life. They’ve never bothered me.”
“And how similar are goats and horses?”
Andrian grumbled, trying to hold back another sneeze. “I’m not allergic,” he repeated. “I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. That’s all.”
Callamus flashed him a knowing smirk. “It sounds like you enjoyed the Solstice, then.”
Some of his annoyance at the burning in his eyes lifted. That overbrimming happiness swelled again in his chest.
“It was everything we needed it to be.” He didn’t look at the god, focusing instead on the dark-haired girl riding ahead of them with a piece of his heart in her hands.
Tanzanite glinted on her ring finger. She’d almost removed it that morning while readying for the day’s travel.
He’d pinned her to the wall and fucked her until she promised to never take it off again.
Not his proudest moment, he would admit. But he didn’t know how many more they had left. He didn’t want to waste a single one.
“There is a question plaguing you. Ask it.”
Andrian glanced at Callamus. Though the god looked mortal at times, his strange, galaxy-filled eyes swirled with unspeakable knowledge.
A muscle tightened in Andrian’s jaw. “Once it’s all over,” he said, “if we survive and Kol is defeated and the world is left in whatever state it’s in…” He dragged in a deep breath. “Do Mariah and I have a chance at the end of this?”
Callamus cocked his head. “A chance at what?”
Andrian swallowed. “Happiness,” he said hoarsely.
It hurt to ask. Especially after last night and this morning and all the moments in between. It was always at times when things were as bright as they’d ever been that all his conditioned fears leaked back in.
Callamus gave a steady, knowing smile. Power swirled around him like the breeze, night and starlight and secrets. “There are some things even I cannot know, and that answer is one of them. But I have lived for thousands of years. If I can’t offer you answers, perhaps I can offer you wisdom.”
Andrian blinked, holding back another sneeze, waiting for the god to continue.
“Your future—and your queen’s future—is shadowed by unknowns.
It is a veil I cannot pierce. But just because it is wreathed in uncertainty doesn’t mean you stop fighting for the ending you want.
In fact,” Callamus said, “I think it means you should fight harder. It means your fate is still being woven, and only you can decide how it ends.”
Andrian shifted in his saddle. “Is it just our fates that you can’t see?” He nodded toward the trio ahead of them. “Matheo and Signe, for example—can you see how their story ends?”
Callamus’s expression turned wistful. “Yes.” He said nothing more.
“So why can’t you see ours?”
Callamus shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Helpful.
They settled back into silence, the cloven hooves of the brusi clipping against the rocky mountain road.
It was different from riding a horse; the strides were longer, the beats less steady, the saddle wider.
The beasts traveled smoothly over the rocky terrain, not missing a single step as they climbed deep into the Everheim Mountains.
“I have another question.” The words fell out of Andrian almost unbidden. His mind had wandered, focusing on everything and yet nothing at all.
“Of course, you do.”
“What’s it like,” Andrian asked, “being the consort to a goddess who doesn’t need protecting?”
Callamus chuckled, though it didn’t carry any humor. “I know you worship her like she is,” he said, “but your queen is not a goddess. And you should pray she never becomes one.”
Andrian’s skin prickled with unease. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But Callamus was again shaking his head.
“To answer your question”—he sighed heavily, glancing up at the sky— “I love my Rulene. She is the day sky to my night. But the consort bonds between the gods are different. The title is shared, but we did not choose each other; not as the Onitan Queen does. Us gods were paired together. Our fondness has bloomed from time and the close relation of our magic. And that is true for all of us…except two.”
“Zadione and Kol.” Andrian’s unease grew stronger. Mariah had shared enough about the Goddess of Death’s relationship with the God of the Sun. None of it did much to shake the disquiet always present in his chest.
What he and Mariah had was different. It had to be. History would not repeat with him.
Callamus nodded. “Yes. Their beginning was different from the rest of us. But that is not my story to tell.”
Dusk had fallen over the mountains, casting the peaks in hues of purple and blue. Callamus lead them now, Matheo and Signe following. Andrian and Mariah brought up the rear, their legs brushing as they rode close together.
He’d been quiet since his conversation with Callamus. And Mariah hadn’t pushed. When she’d dropped back, she’d taken one look in his eyes and joined him in silence, an understanding grimace on her face.
These gods and their vague words. Why couldn’t a single answer they gave be simple and not wrought with a dozen layered meanings and secrets?
He’d been trying hard not to let his mood sour too much today. But between the hay fever and everything else…fuck, was it a struggle.
He tipped his head skyward, breathing in a lungful of air not tainted by the brusi he rode. No. There was no true reason to be in a foul mood. He had his queen, his nio, beside him, and that was all he needed.
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“What?” Mariah’s question caught him off guard. He blinked in surprise.
Something he wasn’t prepared to see glimmered in her green eyes, Kodie’s ears tipped back toward her in concern.
Fear. She was afraid.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Mariah repeated. “What if we go all this way, and I go through this staor, but Callamus was wrong? What if whatever is wrong with my magic—whatever is wrong with me—” She closed her eyes, dragging in a great pull of breath. “What if I can’t be fixed?”
Andrian’s chest cracked.
“Nio. Look at me.” He reached across the space between them, clasping her hand in his. Her skin was feverish.
“There is nothing about you that needs to be fixed. There is nothing about you that’s wrong. You will get your magic back tomorrow. And even if you don’t, it doesn’t change a gods-damned thing. You’re still strong and fierce and capable of bringing any being—god or otherwise—to their knees.”
Mariah’s bottom lip wavered, a show of emotion she hardly allowed anyone to see. “I can’t defeat him without my magic, Andrian.”
“Then we’ll find another way. You still have mine. And you have Callamus and Rulene. Not all of this has to fall on your shoulders, nio.”
She nodded and glanced away, gaze sweeping over the ridges of the mountains.
Andrian released a frustrated sigh, keeping his hand on hers. What did he have to do to get her to believe in all the things he did? Fuck, he was the most pessimistic person he’d ever met. But even he knew, in whatever soul he had, that she would find a way to defeat Kol once and for all.
He believed, with every fiber of his being, that there was nothing Mariah Salis couldn’t do.
“We’re here.” Callamus’s announcement rang out. A few startled birds jumped off the branches of the trees, flying into the evening sky.
They halted their beasts in a small clearing just off the path.
The trail continued to the top of a grassy rise, the sky beyond it empty.
Callamus nodded toward the end of the path.
“The staor is just over that rise, but we will make camp here. The magic of this place can be a bit unsettling, but it is quieter off the trail. If you go closer, you will understand what I mean.”
Andrian and Mariah shared a glance. They dismounted, quickly untacking. Andrian’s eyes burned by the time he was done. He left his brusi to graze, sneezing three more times—each of which ignited a giggle in Mariah’s chest.
Fine. The allergies were annoying, but at least it brought her a little joy. For that, he supposed he could tolerate it.
“If you mention a word of this to Quentin the next time we see him,” he told Matheo quietly as he strode past the other man, “I will shave your head in your sleep.”
Matheo only snorted. “As if that’s a deterrent. I’ll shave my own head just the a chance to see what Quentin will do with the knowledge that you have a goat allergy.”
“Andrian!”
Andrian shot a final glare at the younger Armature before following his queen up the rise.
It only took a few steps for Andrian to feel the shift.
Callamus was right; their clearing was the last place where the power of the staor did not reach.
As they climbed the rise, his shadows stretched through his veins, awakened by the strange energy that stirred in the air.
The closer they walked, the more it clung to his skin, the more it snaked down his throat and into his lungs.
“Do you feel that?” he asked Mariah quietly.
She only nodded, though there was a strange contemplative look twisting her brow.
They crested the rise. Andrian’s heart lurched in his chest.
The rise sloped down into a small, grassy valley. No trees grew along the banks. In the center sat an eerily still pond, its waters a reflective crystalline silver beneath the indigo evening sky.
Jutting from those still waters, like a monolith into the sky…
Andrian had to clamp down on the curse that begged to crawl out of his throat. Mariah drew in a sharp breath.
“Is that…?”
“Yes,” he growled. “Aberrant.”