34. Divine Mandate #2
In the evening, Auryn stood before the mirror wearing comfortable leather trousers and a tunic, something she’d found wrapped up in a package on her and Kailorien’s bed after returning from the harrowing Council session that afternoon.
A gift. Perfectly tailored. She’d have to ask him one of these days how it was that he knew her measurements so well.
She glanced at Lu’ma by her side, but her Attendant just shook her head and signed that she’d had no part in this. She did compliment her on the fit, however. 'Your Radiance looks ready for battle. Will you go to war by the Resh’Agar’s side?'
Auryn had smiled at that. For so long, she’d yearned to go to Campaign with Kailorien, even if it meant jumping into combat.
This gesture and his request to come to the training ring was a pleasant surprise.
Kailorien had never shown enthusiasm in her wielding weapons or magic in battle before.
Perhaps he now understood. The world was shifting far too much for him to keep her sequestered in his wing while he stepped out and bled for their cause.
He’d clearly planned all this to train her, but for what?
The Rite of Judgment. It must be. He has a plan, as always. The Resh’Agar hasn’t survived Krystopolis for centuries without learning how to get ahead of the Council and its whims.
Despite the dire stakes at hand and everything that had recently transpired, Auryn couldn’t help but look forward to this.
At last. Combat knowledge. Training. A way to feel less helpless in situations like the Glider attack.
Perhaps if she could learn to be faster, more agile, more calm in chaos, next time she could help those sworn to protect her.
I won’t let someone else die for me again. Not because of my own ineptitude. Not even for duty. Life is too precious.
“Follow me tonight, Lu’ma. Kailorien has something in mind for both of us.”
The training wing of the Resh’Agar’s sanctum stood eerie and silent, the practice mats cooled in moonlight filtering through the stained glass of the dome above. The ring was shielded by advanced wards and mana-carved stone. Here, no eyes could follow. No shadows could eavesdrop.
As she and Lu’ma stepped into the sanctum’s outer corridor.
The air held a strange tension. Auryn’s boots clicked on polished stone as she rounded the corner.
Kailorien stood in the center of the ring in light training armor, hair tied back, hands loose at his sides.
But he wasn’t alone. A figure waited beside him, half-shadowed in a thick brown cloak and hood. Broad-shouldered. Familiar.
“Zarrek,” she gasped, forgetting all protocol and running up to him. His golden eyes took her in, leather and all, and he gave a crooked smile.
“Not in a dress today, little star?”
“You’ve returned,” she said, breath catching. “You said you wouldn’t.”
“Resh knows how to be convincing,” Zarrek said with a flick of his gaze toward Kailorien.
“You disappeared,” she whispered. “After the attack, I thought—”
Her hand came up to touch the golden braid on her shoulder, her fingers brushing the violet ribbon there.
“I don’t disappear,” he said, catching the motion with his sharp gaze. “I reposition.” Then he softened, just enough for her to see it. “I’ve been watching, Auryn. You’re not the only one who’s changed.”
“No,” Kailorien said, stepping forward at last, arms folded, voice low but decisive. “She’s not. Which is why you’re here.”
Auryn blinked between them. “What’s going on?”
Kailorien motioned to the ring. “You’re going to train. Starting tonight. Properly.”
“With you?” she asked.
“With us,” he corrected, glancing at Zarrek. “I’ll be focusing on your form—archery, movement, casting. You’re going to master that Rite, Auryn. No matter what it takes.”
Lu’ma stepped forward, rolling up her sleeves and signing, 'This Nameless will train as well.'
Kailorien turned to her, his tone shifting. “You’ve grasped it, Lu’ma. I’ve asked you to follow your Sokar into every situation, and I will ensure you are prepared for it. You will learn to move with power. With precision. Zarrek has agreed to train you.”
Lu’ma looked between them, focusing particularly on Zarrek. Their eyes met. Clashed.
A beat.
Then Zarrek smiled.
“What’s this?” he drawled. “Not just a timid little mouse, this one.”
'Even a mouse might slit a cat’s throat when he is busy gloating,' Lu’ma signed.
Auryn blinked in surprise. Zarrek let out a barking laugh.
“I’ll let you try it someday, then,” Zarrek smiled, moving toward the opposite edge of the ring. “Let’s start with balance. You carry your weight unevenly. I noticed the limp.”
Lu’ma tilted her chin in challenge.
Zarrek gave her a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry. I don’t believe in breaking what’s already bent. But I can teach you to wield that limp like a blade.”
She followed him to the mat without hesitation.
Auryn turned to Kailorien, a smile tugging at her lips. But Kailorien’s gaze was distant. Distracted.
“Needless to say, the Council session this morning was unpleasant,” he put his hands on his hips.
"Kail, is there truly such a right listed in the Doctrine?" she asked.
"The tomes of the Laws are vast," he frowned.
"They likely found a loophole and interpreted it as they wished.
" He scratched his nape. “I can’t say whether they expected you to rise to the challenge or not, but the Rite of Judgment isn't our only concern. Their push for a public Estar between us grows more aggressive by the Cycle.”
"Surely—" she stopped, and Kailorien arched an eyebrow. She cleared her throat. "Surely they cannot believe that we have not been…intimate. I stay with you in your wing. They couldn't possibly believe that you wouldn't—"
He shook his head. "It isn't about whether we have been intimate or not.
They are merely looking for a chance to humiliate you.
This Rite is no different. There are a hundred ways you can prove martial capability, but they chose this series of events.
The Path of Fire first, where you must parade through the city and light torches.
A chance for the Solutus to attack. For anything to go wrong.
If you fail, you cannot complete the next part.
Then the Rite itself. That ludicrous weapon they presented. "
His teeth gritted together. He scratched harder at his nape until she reached for him, touching his sleeve. Calming him.
"The Estar used to be performed in the Vox Ring," she said. "But you changed it…when we first arrived in Krystopolis." She looked at the ground. "That is why I knew nothing about it. Why I misunderstood the nature of it for so long."
He leaned towards her. "Do you truly think I would have allowed you to witness it?"
"How did you change the Law back then?"
"I didn't. The Law never mandated public spectacle, merely grew into it.
Before I knew you…" he hesitated, "…I was a monster, Auryn.
I still am. I thought nothing of it. The ritual was part of my duty.
In those days, the shame was mine. The filth only stained my soul, never another's. But now…with the Bond…with you…"
They lapsed into silence, sharing the burden of his words. Then Auryn squared her shoulders and stood straighter.
“They have no leg to stand on,” she huffed. “The Shield data doesn’t support their views. They firmly believe I’m tethered to them as your other half.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t know whether I need to dispel that illusion for them or not.”
Kailorien placed a hand on her shoulder. “Auryn, we don’t know what is true.”
She made a tsk sound with her lips. “There was no ceremony. No carving of runes. Nothing. You, yourself, said there is no way to bind me to them without those things.”
“I have theories,” he countered. “What if they took your hair? All they would need is a single strand.”
She shook her head. “Impossible. Just like you, I don’t shed. And even if I did, Lu’ma would never—”
“What if they took it before she was assigned to you?”
That gave her pause.
“Auryn, in those days without anyone to help you during Flares, anyone could have come into your room while you were ill and done anything they wished.”
“No one knows,” she insisted, but he’d sparked a flare of doubt.
They went silent for a while, turning to watch Zarrek correcting Lu’ma’s stance. She was wielding a dagger, one that Auryn recognized.
“Still carrying it, even though I told her to be more careful.”
“She’s right to,” Kailorien said. “Things in the Lattice are more dangerous than they’ve been in decades. Attendants commit murder every day, yet no one says a thing. Bodies are moved. Forgotten. Hosts are shuffled. She needs to be ready.”
Auryn took a steadying breath. “You’re right. I know you are. It’s just…I worry. If she’s seen. If they know how important she is. How special. They won’t hesitate to hurt her to lash out at me.”
“Then let me give her what she needs to stand strong.”
Auryn stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Kailorien. He bent down and kissed the crown of her head. Again, they fell silent.
He knows. He sees. The Resh’Agar watches the blind leading the deaf, and he fears for you—admits he cannot protect you.
"You were looking at him with such hope," Kailorien said suddenly, startling Auryn from her daze.
She blinked. "Who?"
"Shu'Khan. Today in Council. Your eyes strayed to him more than usual."
Her mind jumped back to the Council session that morning. To the way Shu’Khan had stared down, silent and unaffected. Amused, even. She hesitated, but they’d promised. No more secrets.
Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper. "He promised me something important. Before that session."
Kailorien turned to face her more fully. "What was it?"
When she didn’t answer, his fingers found her chin and tilted her face up to his. “Auryn.”