Chapter 16
‘Please, come and take a seat, Rose Kultavaris. Some rest is deserved after your arduous journey here.’
The voice is further proof that it is not Toren speaking. It is resonant and deep, with a cadence unlike any I’ve heard among the Issen. I have heard that same choral tone but once before, when Etta spoke through Dinah.
Oel speaks through Toren.
My feet cling to the ground, heavy and reluctant to move towards the God, but at the same time, I know it’s not as if I have a choice.
‘You have a choice,’ Oel contradicts my thoughts softly. ‘Do not worry. You are quite safe here with me. I know I am not the first God you have met, Child of Four.’
Hairs rise on the back of my neck. The Myrkr called me Child of Four. Now Oel has used the same name. The odds of that phrase being meaningless are officially somewhere between none and fuck all.
‘You’re right,’ he says, amused. ‘It has import.’
I bite down on my lip. I hate the God’s ability to read my thoughts. Panic claws through me as I try to remember the thoughts I had when I first saw him. Was I disrespectful?
A smile rises on the God’s lips.
‘You do not need to worry, Rose. But if you find it alarming, you are perfectly capable of blocking me, should you choose to do so. I will respect your boundaries. Just think of it the way you do with your wolf.’
Shutting out a bonded dire wolf and an actual fricking God doesn’t feel like the same thing at all, but I trust what he says and try anyway. I focus my intention inwards, on cocooning my mind, and lightness fills my head as the block clicks into place.
Toren’s lips smile. ‘Excellent. Now, Child of Four, will you do me the honour of joining me?’
Aware that he really shouldn’t have to tell me a third time, I hasten towards the fur on the ground he’s indicated.
Warmth flows from Oel, and the scent of crisp water fills the air, pure and fresh like the water where the riverweed flows.
At least I’m not covered in blood like I was when I met Etta, and fingers crossed I’m not going to have to kill someone in front of this God either, but I’m not going to rule out anything.
‘Child of Four, you do not wish to rule the Issen people.’
It’s not a question, but I answer all the same. ‘I am not a ruler,’ I say. ‘I do not know anything of this place, of leadership, and—’
‘That is not true.’ His brow knits. ‘You led your people here through perilous situations.’
‘I’m not sure I would say I was the one who led us. We were a group, a team. We worked together.’
‘Which is exactly what a great leader would say. But your powers… Your Issen magic, it is an issue.’
I can’t help but chuckle drily. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’
‘Indeed. I will give you the tools that you need. Not to complete the Veil – you have those within yourself already – but to fulfil your highest destiny. Powers that will help you through the Great War, Child of Etta.’
‘The Great War?’ I question as my chest constricts.
Going to war is something I want to do even less than lead.
All I want is to get back to Kay and William and ensure they’re safe, but everything I do seems to be pulling me further away from that destination.
Or at least making it harder and harder to get there.
‘You mean the war between the Morathkians and the Issen? Or is it a different war you speak of? One with the Torailians, perhaps?’
I’m clutching at straws, hoping his face will offer some indication of whether I’m going along the right lines, yet Toren’s features remain completely impassive as he stands, causing me to follow suit and scramble to my feet.
‘Others will speak to you of the Great War. For now, just know that your destiny is not the only one in play. Go well, Child of Four, of three, of two, and of one,’ he says before taking a step towards me.
‘That … that’s it?’ I question, scouring around for the next part of the test.
There’s no way stage two can be as simple as a brief conversation with a God. Otherwise, surely every Issen would be clamouring to do it.
‘That is it. You are ready for the next stage,’ Oel assures me. ‘And soon for everything that will come. The Gods are watching you, Child of Four,’ he says before reaching out and taking my hands. ‘One last gift,’ he murmurs.
The pain is instant, and not just in my hands. Searing agony spears between my ribs and behind my eyes as my knees buckle beneath me. I cry out as I hit the ground, the world turning black around me.
The first things I notice as my eyes blink open are the tightness in my chest, the way my ribs are constricted, and my pulse pounding behind my ears.
Pure panic. That’s what it feels like. But it’s not mine.
Little Raven, please speak to me. Let me know you are okay. Little Raven!
I’m here, Fen. I’m here. I’m not sure I’d say okay, but I’m breathing. Groaning, I sit upright, only to let out a yelp of pain as I shift my hips. Fucking Gods and their Godsdamn gifts.
I only need to twist my neck to see that I’m alone. Toren’s body is gone from the cave, Oel having taken his avatar elsewhere, and the Veil flickers behind me, now with soft yellow flames.
Okay. So the flame changes colour with each successful stage. That’s good to know.
I didn’t know if I should come and get you, Little Raven. The king insisted you were left in the cave alone. He has other dire wolves here too. I would’ve ended them all, ripped out their throats, but I suspected you would not think too kindly of that.
No, you’re right. Thank you for not killing them. You’re okay to wait there. I’ll come to you as soon as I’m able. Give me a moment.
I wince as I press my fingertips to my shoulder.
I don’t know how long I was out, but there’s a blooming great purple bruise spread across my arm.
Or at least, I assume it’s a bruise. It definitely hurts like one, though maybe it’s some other kind of poison or anti-poison or Gods know what else.
One thing’s for sure: Oel’s touch wasn’t just a farewell handshake. Gift, my arse.
Steeling myself with a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, ready to leave, only for a yowl of pain to shoot from my lungs as I fall back to the floor. Apparently, my arm wasn’t the only part I hurt when I fell.
My cry is followed almost instantly by a howl. It’s faint, distant, but undeniably Fen’s.
I’m okay, I try to assure him, although the panic that is surging through our bond is so thick I can taste it. Or maybe that’s blood from a split lip. I can’t tell. Just a broken bone, I think.
Someone is coming for you, Little Raven. They’re coming.
Great. Having to be rescued from stage two of the Veil doesn’t feel like a great omen.
Knowing my luck, Magnus is going to tell me that healers can’t be used at any stage of the Rite and I’ll have to continue my training with a broken collarbone and leg, or whatever the hell is going on.
I start to gently move my body, trying to ascertain which parts are genuinely fucked and which are just bruised. I shuffle slightly when the sound of footsteps catches my attention.
‘Princess? Princess Rose?’
It takes me a beat to recognise the voice.
‘Uzra?’
A minute later, the Morathkian defector appears in the cave.
‘So you’re alive.’ His lips quirk with a smile. ‘That’s good to know.’
‘What’s the time?’ I ask him, aware that bruises like the ones on my arm take at least a couple of hours to come out. ‘How long have I been down here?’
‘For most of the day. It’s nearly dusk.’
‘What?’
I came here directly after breakfast, and my conversation with Oel couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen minutes, so I was out for eight hours, maybe more, and nobody thought to check on me? Or maybe they can’t risk interfering with the Veil.
‘The Issen have a particular way of doing things,’ Uzra says with surprising solemnity as he walks around the side of the Veil arch to reach me.
‘And they become even more particular when it comes to the Veil. The last thing they wanted to do was risk interrupting the process. It’s been known to last over a day.
I was lucky – in and out in under an hour for my second stage. ’
‘You’ve completed the Veil?’ I don’t even try to contain my shock. ‘I thought it was only for Issen.’
‘Issen, yes, but that does not have to mean Issen by birth. I wanted to lead their armies, so it was a requirement.’ He smiles, but it’s with grim satisfaction.
‘Ranveeg was all too willing to let me do it. She thought I was going to die, that the Veil would remove this particular thorn from her side. She was beyond pissed when I completed all three stages.’ He grins at me, and for a fleeting second, the two of us bask in the knowledge that Ranveeg must have absolutely hated his completion of the Rite.
Then he kneels beside me, eyes scanning up and down my bruises as he assesses the best way to help me stand.
I gesture to my right ankle. ‘Either it’s a bad sprain, or I’ve broken something.’
‘Okay, well then, I’ll carry you, or we can see if you can hobble up using me for balance. Your choice.’
Needing a big, strong man to carry me isn’t exactly the image I want to project in any scenario, so I go for the latter option.
‘I think I’ll be able to walk,’ I tell him. ‘With some help.’
Gently, Uzra leans over and hooks his arm around my uninjured side, although that doesn’t stop the pain shooting up my arm.
‘Fuck!’ I hiss.
‘They’re pretty particular about not swearing on their sacred lands.’ He smirks. ‘But under the circumstances, I’m sure they’ll let it go.’
‘So you weren’t worried about interrupting?’ I ask, fighting the urge to flinch as he hoists me up to standing.
The former knight shakes his head. ‘The way your wolf was howling made it pretty clear you needed some help.’
‘Well, thank you. I hope Magnus isn’t too mad at you for coming down.’
A loud laugh huffs from Uzra’s throat. ‘Magnus? Mad? That’s almost something I’d like to see. The man invented level-headedness. But that’s it. Two stages done. You’re over halfway there. Sort of.’
‘Sort of?’ I question.