Blood Solace (Blood Grace Book 2)

by Vela Roth

  “Orthros has two hearts, Boreou and Notou. I can step between them, remaining inside the linked wards my Grace and I maintain over our home. But I must not cross the border in the north or the south.”

  “I thought Hesperines could cast wards and veils over others without needing to remain within their own workings.”

  “Others can, but I am what we call a Sanctuary mage, someone with a dual affinity for warding and light. Sanctuary wards can protect and conceal as other wards and veils cannot, but our power comes at a higher cost than any other blood magic. To achieve the most powerful Sanctuary wards, we must either live or die inside our own workings. I could never have raised Orthros’s fortifications without my Grace.”

  “I understand Annassa Soteira is a healer of incomparable power.”

  “Yes. The most powerful in the known world. She too has a dual affinity—for the body and the mind. She is both a physician and a mind healer. Soteira kept me alive while I built the ward. She also added characteristics to my spell that made the ward into something no Sanctuary mage alone has ever been able to achieve. She opened it to the mind so that it serves as a watchtower. It is possible to project one’s thoughts and sight anywhere along the ward’s length.”

  “No wonder the Stand can patrol your borders with so few warriors.”

  “The Stewards need only work in pairs, with at least one warder between them, to make use of the magic my Grace and I have established for them. Sanctuary magic by its nature is sacrificial. It gives itself to others, eager to serve. Thus those without any affinity for it can use it in ways they might not be able to tap other magic.”

  “Do other Sanctuary mages like you join the Stand to help tend the ward?”

  “It grieves me to say I am the last with my affinity. Our cult was once full of Sanctuary mages, but all gave their lives in the Last War to protect Hespera’s worshipers from persecution. They bled to death working our magic. Often they chose to end their own lives inside their workings in order to create the most powerful Sanctuary wards possible. Those wards still stand in Tenebra and even Cordium, and our people take refuge there when under duress Abroad.”

  “I carry your grief in my veins.” Cassia found new meaning in the Hesperines’ traditional words of condolence. It seemed grief had been in their blood since their beginning. She could scarcely conceive what it must be like for Alea, the last Sanctuary mage, the last Ritual firstblood. “What a miracle you managed to survive, Annassa. I cannot imagine what would have become of your people otherwise.”

  “The Goddess led me to my Grace in my darkest hour. Soteira was our salvation. She was the first to whom I gave the Gift, but in truth, it is I who owe her my life. If not for her, I would have met the same fate as the other Sanctuary mages. We keep hoping my affinity will reappear among Hesperines, but it has not, even in our own children. And yet you carry some of it with you into our lands tonight, the likes of which I have not sensed in centuries. I would dearly love to know how this came to be.”

  Cassia shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean, Annassa. I am not at all a mage.”

  “You wear a Sanctuary ward upon you as gracefully as your purple gown. Are you certain you have no power of your own?”

  Impossible. “I have never been able to work any magic in my life.”

  “You might, without recognizing it. In the absence of training or encouragement, a mage’s own power sometimes plays hide and seek with her.”

  “A mage of your eminence would surely know right away if I had any magic. Would you not sense it in my aura?”

  “Not if you are hiding it under a Sanctuary ward.”

  “You would know better what to do with this spell than me, for I do not even know it is there. Surely you could lift it off of me to see how it came to be.”

  “I would sooner halt a shooting star in its path. It would be a shame to tamper with such a precious thing. But between the two of us, I am sure we can solve the mystery of its origins. Ah. I sense I am trespassing on a secret. I hope you will forgive me for intruding, in my eagerness.”

  “Annassa, you can ask anyone anything.” Cassia wished she could Will away the flush she felt on her cheeks. Her hand went to her chest, where the glyph shard pulsed under her gown. “I can think of only one place the spell could have come from. An abandoned shrine of Hespera on the grounds of Solorum…where Lio and I used to meet.”

  “Yes, our cult had a shrine at Solorum in better times.”

  Cassia drew the glyph shard out of her neckline and made to take it off.

  Queen Alea held up a hand. “No, no. Do not disturb it.”

  She came to sit next to Cassia on the bench. The very air seemed to fill with the force of an entire ocean, as gentle as a single drop of rain. Cassia’s heart pounded, and the glyph shard pulsed in her hands.

  Queen Alea cupped Cassia’s hands in hers. Cassia gasped. She felt as if light were singing in her veins.

  A single tear slipped down the Annassa’s cheek. “A living Sanctuary ward. What a precious gift you have carried into Orthros.”

  Cassia had no words, for none could speak like a Ritual firstblood’s tear.

  Queen Alea settled the glyph shard upon Cassia’s chest once more. “The mage of Hespera who was the shrine’s keeper would rejoice to know you have resurrected her power. Makaria was one of the Sanctuary mages who did not survive to reach Orthros or become a Hesperine.”

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Her lover, Laurentius, was one of the Mage King’s favored warriors. They both gave their lives for what they believed in—Makaria for our hope of worshiping freely, Laurentius for the hope of a unified, peaceful Tenebra. He went to his funeral pyre with his amulet of Anthros and the votive statue of Hespera from Makaria’s Ritual Sanctuary. The Mage King himself destroyed the shrine before the Orders had a chance, for he knew only he would leave some of it standing in their memory.”

  Cassia wiped her eyes with one hand. “Forgive me. I am usually more composed.”

  “In Orthros, we do not apologize for mourning. Their fate is worthy of your tears. You honor Makaria and Laurentius with your grief, and by carrying her magic.”

  Cassia struggled to regain control of her emotions. But she had carried their heartbreak out of Tenebra.

  “So this is Cassia,” said a beautiful, throaty voice.

  Cassia looked up to see another statue come to life from the harbor. Queen Soteira had joined them. The dignity of her bearing was remarkable even for a Hesperine. She had full lips and a warm smile, a broad nose and deep black skin. From her coronet of Queen Alea’s white braid, Queen Soteira’s own hair rose in a magnificent sculpture of braids, a royal headdress of her own making. Her hair was a masterpiece of centuries, but one she must always be remaking anew as it grew with her age and power.

  Cassia could not stop herself from getting to her feet. She gave the heart bow. “It is an honor to meet you, Annassa.”

  Queen Soteira laughed. It was the kindest music Cassia had ever heard. “You will be right at home here. Please, sit with us awhile.”

  “Thank you, Annassa.”

  Queen Alea reached out and took her Grace’s hand in invitation. The Annassa sat down together across from Cassia, but their combined presence made her feel as if they embraced her. Knight got up and went to greet Queen Soteira, sticking his head in her lap for pets.

  She also treated Cassia’s hound to her beautiful laughter. She scratched the red fur under his chin with her free hand. “What a fine fellow. Oh, yes, you are a good dog. How happy we are to meet you under happier circumstances than your breeders intended.”

  He settled down at their feet again, rested his head on his paws, and shut his eyes.

  “Let him sleep here until veil hours,” said Queen Soteira. “He has earned a respite.”

  “You are very kind, Annassa.”

  “My Grace,” said Queen Alea. “I must show you what gift Cassia has given me tonight.”

  Cassia felt an ech
o of the clarion call that had awoken her on Spring Equinox.

  “A Sanctuary ward!” Queen Soteira studied the glyph shard, then Cassia.

  Their gazes met, and for the first time Cassia dared looked into the healer’s dark brown eyes.

  Cassia’s hands throbbed, as if phantoms of her wounds remained there. She felt suddenly aware of all her ribs that showed and every freckle on her skin. She felt as brave as she had when she had donned her sister’s gown on Autumn Equinox. Beautiful as when she’d first bathed in rosewater of her own making. She felt the slivers of the shrine under her feet and knew they would cut, but she would keep walking. She had carried the glyph stone all the way over the mountains, home to Orthros.

  She was so strong.

  Cassia blinked, and she was sitting on the bench again, listening to the peaceful sound of the fountain, with smooth, cool stone beneath her shoes and the smell of roses around her.

  “You did not dream the power you just felt,” Queen Soteira assured her.

  “Do not be afraid, Cassia. My Grace has given you a great gift, one only a theramancer as powerful as she can grant.”

  “I see what you have done,” said Queen Soteira. “And so do you.”

  “Then you know what happened to the shrine. Makaria saved my life.”

  Queen Alea did not wipe away the tears that trailed down her cheeks. “Sixteen hundred years later, and she is still saving lives. It gives me solace to know. You too have made a blood sacrifice. As I said, Sanctuary magic comes to the hand of those in need, even if they are not mages.”

  “I thought I had lost it forever in Martyrs’ Pass.”

  “We felt the moment when Lyta carried it across the ward. She has been the Guardian of our working for so long, she would not miss a needle of Sanctuary magic in a haystack. Imagine my surprise when she asked me what spell I had cast upon Waystar the first night the embassy stayed there. You did well.”

  “It grieved my heart to damage the glyph stone, but carrying a shard of it seemed the only way to make sure I always have its protection.”

  Queen Alea shook her head. “You have not broken, but crafted a powerful artifact. You have done more than awaken Makaria’s ward. You have donned it.” A little smile came to Queen Alea’s lips. “Tell Lio he need not worry. No mages of Anthros will sense his power or anything else Hesperine about you. You have warded yourself most securely.”

  Cassia looked down at her hands. How could she tell him the truth about the shrine? “Lio works so hard to protect me.”

  “Just as you work hard to protect him. He will be glad to know his blood is a part of the ward as well. I can sense the devotions he performed at the shrine.”

  “Our glyph stone is in my satchel right now, hidden in my sister’s magical artifacts.” Cassia forced herself to go on, although she could scarcely bear to make the offer. “If there is a sacred site here where it should rest—if there is someone who should rightfully have it—”

  “You,” Queen Soteira said firmly.

  Queen Alea nodded. “Do not fear it will be discovered. The glyph shard and its mother stone are bound together. The Sanctuary ward will keep them and you safe and hidden.”

  Cassia did not have to give it up. “Thank you so much, Annassa. I am honored to be its bearer. I had no idea someone like me could carry the shrine’s magic.”

  Queen Soteira smiled as if she had known and cared for Cassia all her life. “Are you really so surprised?”

  “This is Orthros,” Queen Alea said, “where we all learn what we are really capable of.”

  Absolution

  Lio’s uncle came to a halt in a less crowded corner of the hall as if the coffee service on the sideboard were their only purpose tonight. As Uncle Argyros calmly took up the coffeepot and poured them each a cup, Lio felt his mentor cloak them in a familiar and undeniable veil.

  “I am ready to complete our task,” said Lio. “The Queens expect us.”

  “It will not take long to conceal the exit of those they have invited.” Uncle Argyros pressed the cup of coffee into Lio’s hands.

  There was no way around the cup of coffee, not with Uncle Argyros. Lio downed it in two swallows, then felt compelled to offer an obligatory apology. “I am sorry. I know such haste is an injustice to a roast this fine.”

  “Are you all right, Lio?”

  There was no way around his uncle’s grave tone of voice, either.

  They were going to talk about Martyr’s Pass.

  “Cassia is with me now,” Lio said. “That is what really matters.”

  “How she got here matters, as well. Would you like to talk about it?”

  “Not here and now.”

  Uncle Argyros refilled Lio’s coffee cup. “Why don’t you let me take care of the veil and you rejoin Cassia? She is with the Annassa in the courtyard.”

  “Cassia has already departed with the Queens? I would not wish to interrupt her first audience with them.”

  “They will be glad for you to join them. I have matters well in hand here.”

  Lio set down his coffee. “I am perfectly capable of assisting you with the veil, Uncle.”

  “I never said you were not. Will you not let me give you a reprieve?”

  “I am not among those who need a leave of absence after the battle.”

  Uncle Argyros made no move, but suddenly they were standing in the gallery between the two guest houses. Had Lio’s uncle really just stepped with him as if he were a suckling? The voices in the main hall had faded to echoes. Lio was alone in the stone corridor with his uncle.

  Uncle Argyros gestured to a nearby bench. “Perhaps you will feel more at ease discussing this with our audience out of sight as well as on the other side of a veil.”

  Lio did not feel like sitting down.

  They had not discussed anything of importance since the night of his proposal, but now his uncle was suddenly determined to press him about what had happened in the pass?

  There had been a time, not so long ago, when his uncle would have been the first person whose counsel he sought about that night, the first person he confided in, the first comfort he reached for. That had been when Uncle Argyros had been mentoring him.

  Right now, his mentor was the last person he wanted to speak with about it. Lio could not bear it.

  He held onto Cassia’s faith in him, his lifeline, which had restored his faith in himself. Every time his doubts crept up on him again, he reminded himself of her passionate defense of him. He had not murdered anyone.

  The only words Lio could put to his fraught thoughts were, “I still do not wish to speak of it.”

  Uncle Argyros gave a nod. Then he sat down on the bench. “In that case, allow me to take the burden of speech upon myself. I hope I can help you put your experience in Martyr’s Pass into perspective. There is something you should know. Something I have waited your entire life to tell you.”

  Lio sank down onto the bench beside his uncle.

  Uncle Argyros sighed. “I have told you of the army that marched on Hagia Anatela.”

  “Your greatest victory. Mages from the Orders of Anthros and Hypnos, together with warriors who served the Cordian princes and the Tenebran free lords who collaborated with them, comprised an enormous combined force. And yet you managed to hold them off long enough for Hypatia to evacuate everyone. When the attackers destroyed the temple, it was empty of every soul and every scroll.”

  “But Lyta’s village was not so fortunate.”

  “No,” Lio said quietly. “They had no forewarning.”

  “You have gleaned from the words Lyta does not say what atrocities that army committed upon her family, friends and neighbors. You can understand the guilt she carried as the one they chose to escape to warn the other villages. Her wards and skill as a rider saved many other communities in the army’s path—but not her own. All your life, you have heard these stories.”

  “Yes, Uncle. They are our heritage. Your legacy.” Everything Lio had tried to live up to
in the pass.

  “What I have not told you,” Uncle Argyros said, “is why the army targeted her village, and with such brutality.”

  “They were purging all Hespera worshipers in their path. It is no wonder they brought the pogrom to Aunt Lyta’s home. Since Aunt Lyta’s people were Hesperite pacifists, and they would not make a stand against the enemy, the army found them easy targets.”

  “And yet that army had orders to march directly for Hagia Zephyra in the west, for Hesperines were to be their priority.”

  Lio shook his head, frowning. “Then what happened?”

  Uncle Argyros fell silent. For a long moment, Lio was not sure his uncle would continue the tale.

  But at last Uncle Argyros said, “I made a mistake.”

  Lio said nothing, aware that the wrong word might make it harder for his uncle to speak of this.

  Uncle Argyros took a shaking breath. “I succeeded in mastering their minds utterly, to the last man. I broke their Wills and froze them in their tracks. With their whole force on puppet strings in my hands, I realized how much harm I could prevent—how much harm I could cause. I intended to turn them against each other so they destroyed one another. A travesty for their friends, families and way of life. But the only way to rescue mine.”

  Lio let that sink in. The story he had grown up with had always ended with the temple’s salvation. He had assumed the army simply marched on.

  So the truth was, his uncle had tried to end the lives of all those soldiers.

  “You had to stop them from hurting anyone else.”

  “So I decided that night. In the end, however, my power was not enough. I lost control of them.”

  “Uncle, you nearly died from that casting! You cannot fault yourself for reaching the end of your magic. They were a force of thousands. It is a triumph that you held them that long.”

  “There was no triumph in it. Suddenly released from the bondage that had enraged them, they went mad, like animals out of a trap. They had no reason left and sought to ravage everything in their path. And what was in their path was Lyta’s village.”

  Horror froze Lio’s thoughts.