32. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Mairenn walked a few steps ahead, her skirts whispering, torchlight sliding over polished stone.
I should’ve kept my chin high, pretended none of this was impressive, but my eyes betrayed me, tracing everything.
The tapestries, the sweep of grand staircases.
The way gold and firelight clung to the walls.
True purpose, Tairngire had said, as if it were a leash. Another chain forged by the gods. It wasn’t until I caught Mairenn’s profile in the torchlight that I realized what she was. A golden thread glowed faintly around her—most here carried one.
“You’re bonded,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
She smiled, unsurprised. “I am.”
My frown deepened. “To who?”
“My mother, of course. Scáthae herself.”
I stopped cold. “You’re a daughter of the War Goddess?”
“Yes.” Her smile softened. “My father was mortal. A commander of armies in Morhaven. She saw his courage and chose him. I see his strength every time I look in the mirror. She loved him well, though she couldn’t keep him. His soul rests in Karthmor.”
No bitterness touched her voice. No resentment. Only fondness and a bit of sorrow, as if she missed the man who had played a part in giving her life, only to be ripped from her.
“And now you serve?” I asked, suspicion lacing my tone.
Mairenn laughed, light and unbothered. “Serve? Sometimes. Train? Always. My mother ensures that. She visits us often. She's good to all she sires. But yes, here, I serve the king. He honors me. Honors us.”
Choice. She said it like it was a gift. Like being here wasn’t a prison, but something she actually wanted. It jarred me, rattled loose something in my chest. Exactly how much of what I thought I knew was a lie?
We climbed higher. The stone glowed warmer under the torchlight. At the landing, Mairenn turned, tilting her head. “Do you have a name I might call you? Other than Seer?”
My lips parted, then pressed shut. No one ever asked. Gods didn’t care. My name was fragile, mortal, unnecessary.
But her eyes waited, kind and steady.
“Aurenya,” I whispered, the word strange on my tongue.
Her smile bloomed like I’d given her a precious jewel. “Aurenya,” she repeated softly.
Something in my chest cracked.
We walked until she slowed, candlelight painting the gold walls. She glanced around, somewhat cautiously—then stopped. “May I speak plainly?”
I cast her an inscrutable look. “You’ve been speaking plainly already.”
“Not like this.” Her gaze lingered on a carving before meeting mine again. “King Caedmon is different. Kinder than most. Do not mistake that for weakness. But you should know, not all kings are as merciful as he.”
“So, the fire and brimstone stories are true?” I spoke, mostly under my breath.
Her lips pressed thin. “Neit’s houses. His sons, his sires. They rule with war first, law second. His demigods walk freely in Cindraloch, building armies from children he forced into existence. You are lucky it’s Caedmon’s court you entered, not theirs.”
My stomach twisted at the mention of Neit, at the memory of Tairngire’s warning surfaced. Mairenn’s voice softened. “Cindraloch is not as balanced as the king would have you believe. There is always darkness. But here—” She exhaled, almost reverent. “Here, it is easier to breathe.”
She turned and I followed her down the gilded hall until she reached a set of ornate golden doors. She swept them wide, and I stepped in—only for the air to get caught in my lungs.
The chambers were decadent. A vaulted ceiling painted with gods in battle, a hearth carved with wolves and foxes locked in chase, a bed piled high with silks that looked softer than anything I’d ever dared touch. It was the sort of room whispered in Morhaven’s fairytales.
Mairenn moved with ease, pointing out alcoves, a desk stocked with parchment, a bath tiled in polished stone. Then she opened tall double doors, and my knees nearly buckled.
A closet, full of dresses, armor, cloaks boot—as though I’d lived here forever. My voice came in a rasp, “How—how will they fit?”
Her smile was faint, knowing. “The god gave your measurements.”
I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes.
Godsdamn him, because of course he knew my measurements. I turned back to Mairenn, still reeling, and her expression held hesitancy in it. “May I speak plainly again?”
I nodded warily.
“The bond. Between you and him.”
Gods, did everyone in every realm know about that?
I let out a long sigh. “How do you know—”
“Everyone knows.” She waved a hand, casually. “Rumors travel. But this one…” Awe lit her eyes. “It’s unheard of. Tairngire doesn’t bond or sire. Ever.”
Gooseflesh covered my neck. The idea that mortals, half-born, maybe even divines, were whispering about something I barely understood myself made my stomach clench.
“He is...” Mairenn’s voice softened, dreamily. “The forest’s strength made flesh. To be bonded to him—” She stopped, something flashing in her gaze, admiration, perhaps more.
I shouldn’t have been shocked. Of course, everyone loved him. How could they not? He bent rooms to his will. He was every bit the god they said he was.
And he was bound to me, whether or not either of us asked for it.
Wicked Fates.
“The Fates chose it, not me. If it were up to me, I’d have left the bond in their hands and walked the other way.” I ground out.
Mairenn’s mouth dropped open, wonder spilling across her face, and maybe shock from my brazen response. Divines were revered in all the realms, to speak against them in any way was blasphemy.
But quite frankly, I didn’t care.
“You’ve met the Fates?”
“I—”
“What were they like?” she burst out, voice pitched high with excitement. “Did they speak in riddles? Did they look like maidens? Or crones? Did you see the threads?”
Goddess save me, she was glowing brighter than a hearth fire.
I blinked at her, caught off guard by the sheer delight written across her face. I thought of the Fates—their creepy smoke-filled eyes, one white, one red and one black as night, eternity in their depths.
“I…wouldn’t call it delightful,” I muttered, scratching my neck. “They were…dramatic.”
“Dramatic!” She repeated, giddy. It was an odd sight, seeing a half-born warrior dripping with excitement.
“Oh, that’s perfect. Exactly what I imagined.
” She laughed, the sound bouncing off velvet walls.
“You’ve spoken to the Fates, and here you stand like it’s nothing.
By Scáthae’s shield, Aurenya, you don’t even realize what you carry. ”
I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. “Please, don’t make it sound like some grand blessing. It's a burden, truly.”
She only smiled wider, eyes alight with mischief. She was loving every second of my misery.
Mairenn was elbow-deep in the wardrobe now, tossing silks and velvets like wildflowers.
“Feast,” she said lightly, as though it were the most natural thing in the Seven Realms, the rest of her words getting muffled in the fabrics she was swimming in.
“Feast?” I repeated, almost choking. “You actually have feasts here?”
“Oh sure,” she chirped, her head popping out from behind a frilly looking dress that looked like it had come from my worst nightmares. “Did you think all realms live in vows and silence? Here we drink, we laugh, we honor our goddess. Tonight, you'll see for yourself.”
She tugged out a gown, emerald silk embroidered with silver vines, shimmering like river water under moonlight. Much better than the one I'd just focused on.
Her grin was triumphant. “This one. Your forest god won’t be able to rip his eyes off you.”
A chill prickled my skin, unwelcome. I turned away. “It’s pointless, Mairenn.”
Her brow arched. “Pointless?”
“His desire. Any desire. It’s forbidden to me.” The words came harsher than I meant, honed by years of frustration. “I can’t have it. Not ever. So what good is a gown meant to tempt?”
Mairenn’s grin faltered. “Gods,” she whispered, pity in her tone.
I hated that.
“You carry chains even heavier than the armor he strapped you into.”
I swallowed, but her wolfish grin returned. “Then all the better to dress you in something that will remind him of what he can’t have.”
The chamber thickened with tension I didn’t want to name. My chest burned at the thought of Tairngire’s eyes—hungry, unreadable—and the curl of something low in my stomach made my hands shake.
Mairenn clapped her hands. “Now, don’t fret. The ladies-in-waiting will be in shortly to dress you.”
My head whipped toward her. “To…to touch me?”
“Of course.” She shrugged. “Ladies don’t dress themselves here.”
Mairenn made quick work of excusing herself before I could ask any further questions. The chamber felt too large, too heavy. I drifted to the wide windows, the glass panes glimmering like water.
Below, the courtyard bustled, half-born were sparring with steel, weapons clashing in a relentless rhythm. Sweat gleamed on their brows. Their faces carved with determination. The air thrummed with hunger, an eagerness for battle. They were chosen. They knew exactly what they were made for.
I pressed my palm to the cold glass, hearing Tairngire’s words again—true purpose. As if mine waited in ambush, claws sharp and merciless.
I didn’t have time to spiral further before the door burst open and a chipper woman swept in, her skirts rustling like autumn leaves.
“Oh, look at you!” she chirped, already tugging pins from my braid as if she owned them.
Two more bustled in with armfuls of silk and oils, and before I could blink they were stripping off armor straps, clucking about a bath.
“What are you—” My protest cut short as they unmade me like a doll.
Then it hit. My Sight surged like a flood through a broken dam, trying to claw its way free, desperate to pull me under. I gasped, bracing for the drop into whatever vision would claim me.