by Vela Roth
“He is worthy of you,” Lio said.
As Xandra grinned, the tip of one of her fangs peeked out. “And I have such a taste for him.”
She had definitely never looked at Lio like that. “I’m happy for you indeed.”
“Don’t ask me if he’s my…you know. I’m not worrying about that right now. Just enjoying the way things are.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “So tell me about your newly acquired taste.”
“She really is the only one I shall ever have a taste for from now on.”
Lio had been ready for Xandra to ask him if he was sure this time and not deluding himself again. She said nothing like that.
The air around them rippled with Xandra’s magic. Her mouth tightened, and her nails dug into the table. With a composed face, she looked down at her silkworms, and the torrent of power inside her calmed.
But her eyes gleamed with tears. “Goddess, Lio. You’ve had the Craving for half a year and didn’t tell anyone? That’s not just stupid. That’s dangerous.”
“Thank you for being so concerned.”
“I’m not concerned. I’m furious. I expect you and Mak and Lyros to be idiots sometimes, but this isn’t a broken arm in the training ring. Who is she? Why didn’t she come home with you?”
“She’s Lady Cassia Basilis.”
Xandra’s eyes widened. “The King of Tenebra’s daughter? The person you identify in your proposal as the scheming traitor turning her country’s laws and traditions on their heads? The woman who uses her charity work in the temple to thumb her nose at her own gods and help heretics abscond with children?”
Lio grinned with all his fangs. “That’s my Cassia.”
“Now I understand who rescued you from the perfectionism hole. I can’t wait to thank her and tell her she’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“Neither can I.” Relief buoyed him for one lovely moment, but the reality of what tomorrow would bring dragged him back down. “I won’t have a chance, unless the Circle approves my plan. I’m not sure what hope one green ambassador has of moving our elders to such lengths, but I will push with everything I have.”
Xandra’s face steeled into the look of determination she had when she was not controlling, but wielding her tumultuous magic. “You won’t be the only one pushing.”
“Then I can count on your Circle vote in favor of my proposal, Royal Firstblood Alexandra, Eighth Princess of Orthros?”
“You certainly can, Ambassador Deukalion, Firstgift Komnenos. We are the voice of our generation, and it is high time we made the Circle spin.”
96
Nights Until
WINTER SOLSTICE
Hesperines shall not, under any circumstances, intervene in conflicts between the Mage Orders, the Council of Free Lords, the King of Tenebra or his enemies, or in any way attempt to influence worship or politics in Tenebra.
—The Equinox Oath
The Wisdom of the Ancients
The murmurs of the elders had never sounded so deafening. Their quiet voices echoed up, down and around the circular amphitheater, each word audible and distinct to Hesperine ears without the aid of any magic save the cleverness of Orthros’s architects. Currents of silence were the only evidence that other conversations went unheard behind the time-honored custom of veils.
A twirl of vertigo threatened to hurl Lio from where he stood with his friends behind the highest row of seats.
Despite the shared veil around their own conversation, Nodora kept her tone hushed. “I always feel as if I hear music between their voices. But every time I go home and try to capture it in a composition, I can never find the right notes.”
With a glance, Kia took in the other Hesperines lingering with them in the gallery and those who had already taken their seats below. “All I hear are the same opinions they’ve been repeating for the last sixteen centuries, as if they re-read the annals every season. No wonder we call the amphitheater and the elders in it the Firstblood Circle. They’re both made of stone.”
Attending Circle with his parents as a child, Lio had always imagined he could hear among his living elders the voices of the foregivers whispering timeless wisdom to him. But right now, he dare not open his mouth to join in his Trial sisters’ philosophical commentary. He swallowed hard.
The amphitheater was packed for the first Circle of this season of great trouble. The firstbloods of all the bloodlines of Orthros sat below in their vibrant robes and gleaming braids. Generations of their children and many-times-great-grandchildren filled the rows behind them, along with the Ritual tributaries who also carried their blood.
Circle was usually a time of companionship and festive feelings, when all the families in Orthros joined together to celebrate what they had accomplished and what more they would do in Hespera’s name. Tonight the Union throbbed with concern, pregnant with the fears left unspoken.
The power of everyone’s auras was already enough to make Lio weak in the knees, but the elder firstbloods and the Queens weren’t even here yet.
“Steady.” Mak gripped Lio’s shoulder. “Are you sure you aren’t going to be sick?”
Lyros peered into Lio’s face. “Are you certain you’re ready to do this?”
“Now or never. I’ve managed to keep down my parents’ blood so far. That should carry me through.” He found a smile for his friends. “As will the support of my partisans.”
“Let’s assess our position.” Kia nodded downward. “Xandra has assumed her seat. You will take the stand with one vote and five partisans already on your side.”
A lone figure in black-and-white formal robes occupied the royals’ section of the amphitheater. Xandra had arrived ahead of all the other princes and princesses and taken her place, the eighth seat in the row directly behind the Queens’ bench. Hesperines of all ages already flocked around her, eager for a word with the first royal in attendance.
What allies Lio was fortunate enough to call his own. A royal firstblood seated below and the children of the elder firstbloods standing here ready to descend upon the Circle. Kia and Nodora were dressed to impress in their most ceremonial silk ensembles.
Mak and Lyros had eschewed formal robes in favor of their Stand regalia. The knee-length black robes were elegant in their simplicity and powerful in their meaning. The constellation Aegis embroidered on their chests stirred every Hesperine heart. The uniforms, cut for ease of movement, belted at the waist and paired with sandals that laced up the calves, were designed to be practical for the Hesperine fighting style. Tonight they were a persuasive argument that the defenders of Orthros endorsed a dangerous proposal and stood ready for the challenge.
Lio had never felt more proud to have his friends at his side. They shone as brightly as their elders, and they carried themselves like what they were—heirs of the oldest bloodlines in Orthros, who belonged here.
“Thank you all for doing this.” Lio adjusted his scroll case on his shoulder and straightened his collar. The black formal robes he had worn at the Summit gave him a measure of boldness.
Mak took a flask from the pocket of his robe. “Since Javed gets to stay home with the sucklings, he asked me to bring this to you. He offers his well-wishes and the following instructions: ‘Drink every drop.’”
Lio accepted the flask. “Do I want to know what’s in there?”
“No,” Lyros reassured him. “Bottoms up.”
Lio uncapped the flask, but as soon as the odor hit his nose, he held it away from him. “Absolutely not. I will not drink thirst suppressant.”
“It’s just what you need,” Nodora urged. “It’s the best treatment to mitigate the symptoms of the Craving.”
Kia chuckled and shook her head at Mak and Lyros. “Hypocrites. You wouldn’t stay on the stuff during your Ritual separation.”
“That only lasted eight nights, not half a year,” Lyros answered.
“Drink,” Mak commanded Lio. “I know you want to be your best for her when you see her again, but that’s not g
oing to happen unless you make it through Circle tonight.”
“It will wear off by sunrise,” Lyros promised. “And you’ll wish it hadn’t.”
Mak nodded. “Believe me, it takes more than one dose to wilt your thorn.”
Nodora and Kia did Lio the kindness of refraining from further comment.
If only to disguise his flushed face, Lio held the flask to his mouth and tilted his head back to drain the elixir. He suppressed a grimace of disgust and handed the flask back to Mak. “Thank you.”
Mak made the face for him. “Awful, isn’t it? Too sweet, like its trying too hard to make you like it.”
The stars spun over Lio’s head. “How long does it take to work?”
“It will be in full effect by the time the proposals begin,” Lyros advised.
“Well, that should help with the wait. I’m last on the schedule tonight. My Imperial libraries proposal isn’t high priority.”
Kia’s aura shone with anticipation. “They have no idea they’re saving the best for last.”
The sky was clear and sharp as glass. It would require no wards to keep snow out of the Circle, and the moons and stars would have an unobstructed view of Lio’s presentation. The Goddess’s Eyes and her stellar heroes would bear witness to the debacle. “I wonder how far into my address I’ll get before they send me to live with Phaedros.”
“They have to let you finish,” said Kia. “Everyone is allowed to present any idea inside the Circle. It’s the law. They can’t actually exile you for your ideas, you know.”
“Right. Phaedros was banished for acting on them. Maybe they’ll reconsider bringing charges against me for violating the terms of the Summit last winter so they’ll have a reason to banish me, too.”
“He is a genius,” Kia pointed out. “He’s probably rather interesting company.”
“How comforting. I shall have an insane genius to keep me from growing bored in exile.”
“And you can keep contributing your controversial writings to the veiled section of the library, like he does. I promise to write a discourse in response. You can ask the wardens to deliver it to you when they make their regular visits to invite you to recant.”
“Stop it, Kia,” Mak broke in. “That’s not funny.”
“It wouldn’t be so terrible,” she persisted. “Since the Stewards are the wardens, you would get to see Mak and Lyros now and then.”
She didn’t twitch under the full force of Lyros and Mak’s scowls, but at a sudden change in the levels of magic below, she left off her gallows humor and scrutinized the Circle again. The sea of auras swelled with the influx of eleven waves of power. The elder firstbloods and their Graces had arrived.
The founders of Orthros had appeared in their places in the front row of each of their five respective sections. No sooner had they stepped into position than they began to receive greetings and requests from the descendants and tributaries who occupied the wings behind them.
In the Boreian section to the royal family’s right, the rows behind Lio’s parents had fewer occupants than any others. Even so, they received a warm reception from the Ritual tributaries to whom Lio’s father had dutifully passed on Anastasios’s Gift. Father had waited a long time for children who would fill those rows with family.
Lio stared at the empty seats. Would his and Cassia’s children ever fill them?
Even as his mother devoted her attention to those around her, her mind reached for his, and her auric gaze settled on him. A moment later, between one petitioner and the next, she found him with her physical gaze as well. He saw the worry line between her brows and felt the encouragement she sent him through the Blood Union. She might not know what he was about to do, but she could tell how important it was for him. Father took her hand as his power joined with hers in bolstering Lio.
Lio sent back to them his gratitude. His regret he kept behind his veil. No regrets. That was his promise to himself.
Whatever happened tonight, he would stand by his proposal, his conscience and his Grace.
“Knowing Uncle Apollon and Aunt Komnena, you can count on your own bloodline’s vote.” The confidence in Mak’s voice was reassuring. “I’d be surprised if the firstbloods of all their Ritual tributaries didn’t follow their example.”
Lio dared a look at the front row of the Anatelan section and found his mentor. Uncle Argyros glanced up from his conversation with Aunt Lyta and smiled. The relief in his aura raked Lio’s conscience over the coals.
“What about your father?” Lio asked Mak.
It was Lyros who answered. “Well, when Grace-Father saw we were coming to Circle for once, he, ah…thanked us for encouraging you to stay on course and for reminding you of your priorities during your time of doubt.”
“Don’t despair,” Mak comforted. “Just think who has suffered his disapproval. The Blood Errant. Me. You’ll be in good company.”
“Indeed I will. I only wish I could look forward to your bloodline’s vote.”
“Count mine out too.” Kia glared at her parents. Hypatia and Khaldaios presented a dignified picture in the seats to Uncle Argyros and Aunt Lyta’s left. “Far be it from Elder Firstblood Hypatia to take a chance on anything. She doesn’t remember how to be a heretic anymore. Neither bloodline from Hagia Anatela will vote in your favor.”
Nodora and Lyros exchanged glances. She patted Lio’s arm. “I’m afraid the bloodlines from Hagia Zephyra won’t be willing to risk it, either.”
“Perhaps some of Kassandra’s bloodlines will take your view,” Lyros said. “It’s a shame she always abstains. I would be surprised if she disapproved of your proposal.”
Lio’s gaze came to rest on his Ritual mother, who stood alone at the head of her section. The packed rows behind Kassandra were a rich legacy, larger than two temple sections combined, although none who sat there were her blood children.
Since Hesperines had first reached out to the Empire, she had guided the weft of Orthros with her strong, mahogany hands. She had crafted a bridge of fabric between Orthros and the Empire and woven their alliance, which had endured these many centuries. She had beheld their future and worked to build it.
She carried herself like the woman she had been in her mortal life, the sister of the Empress, and the Hesperine she was now, an elder firstblood and the Queens’ Ritual sister. Her purple formal robes evoked her royalty, and her heel-length, locked hair was a testament to her long, full life.
“Does it gall her that she has a vote she cannot use?” Kia wondered aloud. “That her power is so great she must not wield it?”
“I think her magic must be very hard to bear,” Nodora said. “Not only because it means she cannot vote.”
“I wish she would vote,” Mak said. “Why shouldn’t she? She’s the only Hesperine in Orthros with the power of foresight. That makes her more qualified than anyone to rule on what course of action Orthros should take.”
“I object,” Kia agreed, “to the argument she and the other elders make that her votes could compromise the fairness of the Circle. Such unfairness to her renders the Circle already compromised.”
Nodora pursed her lips. “I think she is right to be concerned that if she voted, everyone would assume she knew something we do not. The other firstbloods probably would vote as she did out of fear for the future, rather than forming their own opinions.”
“What a waste,” Mak lamented. “Whether it is her opinion or prophecy, everyone would do well to allow her vote to decide matters.”
“As the Queens’ Master Economist,” Nodora replied, “she hardly lacks direct influence. Every decision she makes outside this Circle has profound impact on Orthros.”
Kia scowled. “All the more reason she should be able to wield her direct impact over the Circle. The person who manages our trade relationships with the rest of the world should not have to withhold her vote.”
Lyros cleared his throat. “Are we certain it is everyone’s faith in her prophecies that keeps her from voting…n
ot lack thereof?”
“Everyone still has great faith in her,” Nodora protested. “They understand why her sight might be clouded where her son is concerned. People are greatly swayed by her prophecies, even though she still denies Methu is gone and insists he will return.”
Prometheus’s mother had never once told her son to shy from action. After nearly a century, she persisted in her belief he would come back from his final, doomed journey into Cordium. After all these years of grief and hanging onto hope, did she regret that she had not stayed his hand?
Or did she too chafe at Orthros’s eternal pace? Did she regret no Hesperine since her son had dared shake a fist at the Mage Orders?
Lio could do that, if he offered Tenebra an outstretched hand.
“No one doubts her prophecy that ‘the bloodborn will return to Orthros,’” Kia said, “only that Methu was the subject of it.”
All of Lio’s friends looked at him.
Mak wiggled his eyebrows. “Everyone knows the prophecy must really have foretold Uncle Apollon bringing Aunt Komnena and Lio home to Orthros.”
Lyros cuffed Lio on the arm. “Remember that when you take the stand tonight. You’re a prophecy come true.”
“No expectations.” Kia grinned wickedly.
Lio looked upon the statues of the Ritual firstbloods, which marked the seats reserved for those who bore their blood, and studied the memorial that stood before his parents’ seats. Ritual Firstblood Anastasios might be mistaken for a living Hesperine, if not for his marble skin and robes. He who had given Father the Gift in the Great Temple Epoch looked ready to judge tonight’s proceedings with kind eyes and to offer up suggestions with a lifted hand.
Father had sculpted him so everyone might in some way know his foregiver as he had. Anastasios and his fellow Ritual firstbloods had not lived to see Orthros. They had sacrificed their lives for the hope of their people’s salvation. Would their constellations shudder when Lio proposed a plan that could threaten the Sanctuary of Orthros?
The burning stars in the sky and the quartz stars on the floor of the amphitheater traded places. Lio planted his feet and reached for the lifeline of his Gift.