by Jessi Gage
Once inside the temple, he tuned all his senses to the woman on his arm. He searched for any sign of discomfort, but Seona made not the slightest flinch as they stepped within the holy house of Danu.
“Sire,” Assaph greeted. He had been waiting for them, as they had planned. “Lady Seona.” He bowed his covered head. Looking above the lenses of his spectacles, he said, “It is my honor to welcome you to Chroina’s First Temple of Danu.”
Seona gasped, but it was not a sound of pain. She withdrew her hand from Magnus’s arm and clapped. Joy shone from her face as clearly as when the pups had brought her bathwater earlier.
Curious. This was not the reaction he had expected.
From Assaph’s raised eyebrows, Magnus guessed he had not expected the reaction either.
It was possible Hyrk found delight in the prospect of wreaking havoc here in Danu’s holy house. If that was what the entity intended, he would be sorely disappointed.
“I have heard of your temple,” Seona said, eyes bright and curious as she turned in a slow circle to take in the modest alcove. She came to a stop facing the arched entry to the sanctuary and smiled softly. Rocking up on the balls of her feet, she seemed eager to explore, but a darting of her eyes back to Magnus showed some hesitation.
Ah. She wished to enter but she could not. Because Hyrk’s evil prevented her.
“You have treasured the temple, as have all the kings of your line,” she said to Magnus, her eyes locking with his. Something passed between them. He must be mistaken, because he had an impression of gratitude filling her countenance. To Assaph, she said, “And you have devoted your life to my—to the service of Danu.” She clasped both his hands in hers. Her lips parted as if she would say more, but then she clamped them shut.
Again, he and Assaph exchanged a look.
Releasing Assaph’s hands, Seona sailed into the sanctuary, uninhibited as a freshly-released bird.
No expense had been spared in building and maintaining the temple. The central structure dated back a thousand years and was made of eight towering, interlocking arches. Over the years, marble, gems, silver, and gold had been used to enhance the stone for dazzling effect. When the sun shone through the tall east- and west-facing windows, the sanctuary gleamed with beauty for Danu’s glory. A large window of stained glass featuring a scene from the Temple Archives let in the southern light from above the pulpit, where Assaph would read the scriptures on the morning of each full-moon.
Seona walked the length of the sanctuary, her face tilted to take in the windows and arches. Fingers encased in supple boar skin skimmed the worn armrests of the benches. Her slippered feet stepped soundlessly over the marble of the central aisle.
Magnus watched from where he and Assaph stood, still in the entry alcove. “What do you make of her reaction?” he asked the priest in a whisper.
Assaph only shook his head. He seemed as perplexed as Magnus.
At the altar, where the citizens of Chroina had taken communion for centuries, Seona came to a stop. Her head tipped back, and she gazed up at the stained glass.
The hues of sunset made the scene glow like a giant lantern. In the window, Lachlan, an ancient king of Eire stood on a shelf of rock overlooking a canyon bursting with color. He raised both hands to the heavens in worship of Danu, who was shown as a blinding figure cloaked in glory, floating above the scene like the sun. Around Lachlan, his Knights of the Crescent Moon formed a protective ring, and behind them were worshippers on their knees with their hands lifted in praise. Danu’s blessing shone around them like an aura.
Artists had also rendered this scene in expensive inks and stains in the Temple Archives, and given it the name Lachlan’s Last Communion. It was said that Lachlan was so favored by Danu that she appeared to him at the famous shelf of rock—Lachlan’s Promontory. Sadly, shortly after this communion was said to have taken place, Danu’s blessing disappeared from the face of the Earth. No more revelations were recorded in the Archives, leaving Danu’s followers no explanation. Priests and scholars had proposed theory after theory as to exactly why Danu’s blessing had been replaced with a curse on the births of females, but no two students of the Archives agreed in full. Not even Magnus and Assaph.
Magnus assumed the curse had something to do with Jilken, Lachlan’s brother, whom Lachlan defeated in battle. Allowed to live despite his defeat, Jilken was exiled to the west, where he created the kingdom of Larna. He summoned dark magic to breed wolfkind with wolves, the goal to create an army of the fiercest warriors to ever walk the Earth. This perversion of Danu’s creation was reason enough, in Magnus’s mind, for her to curse them. But all hope was not lost. His dream vision promised Danu’s blessing would return. Magnus and Seona would birth an heir that would begin a new era for their people. He’d seen it clear as day. He believed it with all his heart. This was to be his legacy.
But before that could happen, he needed to deal with Hyrk.
He saw only Seona’s back from this angle. It wasn’t good enough. He needed to witness what secrets her face revealed as she gazed up at the scene of Danu and Lachlan.
Quietly, he made his way toward the altar. As step after silent step led him toward the place where he knelt each morning in prayer, he planned what he would say. He would invite her to worship with him, and then he would utter words of devotion to Danu and watch Hyrk reveal himself. With a glance back at the alcove, he assured himself Assaph was ready.
The priest nodded. In his hands was a cage covered with a cloth.
When Magnus was a single step from Seona, he scented something that brought him up short. Salted tears.
The unmistakable weight of sorrow rounded her shoulders. Nearly inaudible breaths hitched in and out, sending tremors over her. The lady wept freely. This was most unexpected.
He had been prepared to witness hatred pouring from her eyes. Or disgust curling her lip. He had not expected tears. Nor had he expected to feel an overwhelming urge to wipe them away and comfort her with kisses.
“My lady.” He had not meant to speak. The words simply came forth, quiet and strained because her apparent pain caused him pain as well.
Her shoulders jumped, and she sniffed. Trembling fingers swiped tears from her averted face. He had startled her, and she attempted to compose herself discreetly. These simple acts suggested her emotions were genuine.
This morning, at the very place depicted above them, hatred had glowed from the red eyes of a possessed Bilkes. The evil entity possessing the prisoner would not show such vulnerability, not in Magnus’s presence, and especially not here in the temple of the goddess he’d scorned with such venom. Perhaps he had made a mistake in thinking Hyrk controlled her.
But he could not be certain. Nothing was certain where Seona was concerned. Even if she was not possessed, she still was not herself. Whether the change in her was due to memory loss, deception, or interference from a wicked entity, the truth of the matter was that Seona was different than she had been. She was a mystery, and the need to solve her plagued him to his core.
“I remember that day,” Seona said, interrupting his thoughts. Her voice held strength even as it carried strains of sorrow.
His hand twitched with the need to rest on her shoulder, to comfort her, but he kept it at his side. He did not trust his body’s urges. He would not trust them until he was certain Seona was Seona.
Following her gaze to the stained glass, he tried to see the scene through new eyes. Seona must be remembering her altercation with Bilkes, her fall. Perhaps Giles had been right all along and she simply suffered from memory loss. Her tears might be a sign that her memory was returning, and with it her terrible experience in Larna.
The prospect of her remembering herself made a stone of dread settle in his gut. Regardless of why she had been different, he cherished the new Seona. He did not wish to hasten the return of the old one.
Nevertheless, he would help her remember. “It was only this morning. Though it feels like much more time has passed.
”
The corner of her soft lips twitched. “Much more, indeed,” she said, eyeing him with a speculative glint in her eye.
He could not help standing straighter and jutting his chin forward. He did not know why she studied him so, but whatever the reason, let her see the strength and confidence in him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lips purse with pleasure.
She finds me pleasing. The sure knowledge puffed him up like a lad with his first boar-kill.
He nodded at the window. “The scene we see here is an artist’s rendition of King Lachlan’s last communion with Danu.” Under her scrutiny, he felt compelled to demonstrate his respect for their traditions and his love for their goddess. A feeling of rightness filled him as he told the ancient tale. “It occurred two thousand years ago and was the last time Danu appeared to us. After this day—” He motioned toward the glass. “Danu gave us no more revelations. Our numbers began declining. There were fewer and fewer female births until—well, today our hope rests on the wombs of only a handful of women.”
He had not meant to tell her so much of their dark history, but now that he had started, he could not seem to stop. As he spoke, he kept his gaze on the window, but every other sense was tuned to Seona’s reactions. He felt more than saw her tilt her head as she listened intently.
“Some think Danu did not curse us intentionally, but rather she was taken from us. Forcibly.” Her shoulders stiffened as he gave voice to Assaph’s theory. Why the theological debate spilled from his lips, he could not guess, but Seona’s attention, focused on him like a moonbeam, encouraged him to continue.
“I do not believe such,” he said. “For the Temple Archives tell us of Danu’s power, her steadfast devotion to her creation. I do not believe there is any power in existence that could overcome a goddess filled with love.”
Nothing and no one,
Not even godhood itself
Shall separate her from her lifemate
The words from Tanisten’s poem popped into his mind, even though he had dismissed the writings as irrelevant. Was Danu trying to tell him something? Could she be leading him in this moment?
He felt Seona’s gaze soften. Turning to face her, he found fresh tears shimmering in her eyes.
“You are correct.” Her voice was softer than a whisper, almost as if she spoke without meaning to. It entranced him. “No power can overcome a goddess. But she can fall victim to her own foolishness.”
The Translation Stone grew warm against his chest. A frisson of awareness passed over him. Suddenly, Seona’s transformation—the miracle of her mended body, her changed speech, her wonder at every small detail of life, her tears at the altar—it all made sense. Profound, miraculous sense.
“Can it be?” His voice sounded like he was in a cave. It echoed in his ears.
Desperation and fear collided in Seona’s eyes as she held his gaze. But it was not Seona looking back at him.
It was Danu.
Chapter 15
May the words of the goddess echo through the generations: To be known—deeply known—is the highest, most blessed intimacy.
Words that Danu had given her people long before her imprisonment echoed in her mind as Magnus looked at her, genuinely looked at her.
For the first time since inhabiting this mortal form, she allowed a witness to her lowly state. Here at the marble altar where generations of wolfkind had worshipped her, she could no more hide her true self from Magnus than she could wave her hand and return to her immortal form.
He knows.
Panic fluttered behind her breastbone. But there was something else there, too. Relief.
The only other person who knew what had happened to her and Seona was Duff. While she appreciated her friend, he was not the one she craved intimacy with.
Magnus knows.
The relief swelled and filled all her corners and spaces. It felt so good to be completely known.
Until her king dropped to his knees. “My Goddess,” he whispered, and he prostrated himself before her, forehead to the marble floor.
No, no, no.
This was not what she wanted. She didn’t need him awestruck. She needed him strong, so she could take shelter from this strangeness in his arms. Besides, if he worshipped her like this, Hyrk would discover her. No, this would not do.
“Get up,” she hissed. “Quickly.”
But Assaph’s voice trampled over hers. “Sire!” He dashed to Magnus’s side and fell to his knees. In his haste his head covering fell off and spun to the floor. “What have you done to him?” he snarled at her.
“Nothing!” she answered before she bent to tug on Magnus’s arm. “Please get up. Do not do this. You’ll put me in danger.”
“Don’t touch him, you vile monster!” Assaph made a grab for her hand, but Magnus caught his wrist before he could make contact.
“Do not touch her.” At last, her words seemed to have gotten through to Magnus. From his knees, he said, “She is not Hyrk.”
Hyrk? Was that why Magnus had been acting strangely? Since the meeting in his solar, he had been reserved with her. The passion she’d tasted in his kisses had bled away and left coldness in its place. Indignation puffed her up at being mistaken for that wicked bastard.
“Of course I’m not,” she said hotly. “But if you remain on your knees, he will most certainly discover me.” She spoke in a rush, needing to convince Magnus as soon as possible. It was unfortunate that Assaph was there, because her identity must remain secret. The more people who knew, the more danger she would be in. But it couldn’t be helped.
At her insistent tugging, Magnus finally came to his feet.
Assaph looked back and forth between them, waiting for an explanation. His confusion might have been comical under other circumstances.
“I am not myself,” she confessed. “Something I cannot explain has happened to me and to Seona, and it must be put right. In this mortal form, I am practically helpless. If Hyrk finds me, I’m as good as dead.”
“Where is Seona?” Magnus said.
At the same time, Assaph said, “If you’re not Hyrk, then who are you?”
“She is Danu,” Magnus said, gaze still locked on hers. Truth be told, she could not look away, either. Now that he knew who she truly was, she longed to share everything with him.
A thump dragged her attention to the floor. Assaph lay there, feet splayed and sticking out from the hem of his robe. He had fainted.
“Oh dear,” she said.
She and Magnus dove to his side.
“Assaph!” Magnus patted his cheek.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Water. He needs water.” Magnus blinked. He turned mortified eyes to her. “My apologies, my—Goddess. I’ll fetch it.” He started to stand, but she stopped him by curling her fingers in his sleeve.
“Tell me where it is. I’ll fetch it.” She would not let him treat her like one who must be waited on hand and foot. She was a goddess, yes, but she was also a woman quite able to undertake necessary actions.
He stared a moment. As if coming to a decision, he nodded. “Assaph’s apartment is through there. You should find an ewer by his pallet.” He pointed behind him, toward a closed door. She hurried to fetch some water.
Assaph’s apartment was dim, with only a bit of gloaming light coming in through a window, but she found his pallet, and the ewer on a nearby table, easily enough. She scooped up some water with a tin cup and jogged back to the sanctuary. As Magnus took it from her, she felt herself smiling at the irony of a goddess serving in her own temple.
“My thanks,” he said. With a powerful arm, he lifted Assaph’s head and tipped a dribble of water over the priest’s lips. “Wake up, Assaph. Come on.”
Assaph’s tongue darted out to catch the drops. Behind his spectacles, he blinked awake.
“There he is,” Magnus said. “You had a bit of a shock, friend. Take a few moments to rest. Here. Drink.” He held the cup so Assaph could s
ip from it.
“My thanks,” the priest said. He peered from Magnus to her, and his eyes widened.
“Yes,” she said. “I am Danu.” She softened the news with a smile. “I do not understand why I’ve come to be in this mortal body, but once you are feeling quite well, I am happy to discuss my predicament with you. Perhaps you may have a way to help me.”
“Help you?” Assaph went pale.
“Yes. Help me. I am...unaccustomed to being powerless.”
“You are not powerless,” Magnus said. “You fetched water for Assaph.” His lips quirked, and she remembered being in his arms earlier. She remembered his kiss.
Her cheeks warmed. Assaph might have difficulty adjusting to her presence, but Magnus, it seemed, was able to take it in stride. “Perhaps not powerless by mortal standards,” she allowed with a quirk of her own lips. Now that they had dispelled the idiotic notion of her being Hyrk, she hoped they could return to the flirting and touching she had enjoyed so much.
Assaph cleared his throat.
Though, perhaps not this very moment. She and Magnus had been leaning toward each other across the priest, still prone on the floor. With a start, they both jumped back.
A thrill went through her at the thought of entertaining carnal thoughts in the temple, as if she were some mortal fantasizing about her would-be lover while she ought to be worshipping. She nearly chuckled, but managed to hold it back.
“Here,” Magnus said, offering the priest his hand.
Assaph clasped it and stood. Immediately, he bowed his head and began to kneel before her.
While his faith and respect touched her, she could not allow anyone to make displays of honor. Hyrk could never know how vulnerable she’d become. “No. Do not kneel.” She rushed to urge him upright.
“She does not wish for Hyrk to know where she is,” Magnus said. “We must pretend she is still Seona. Is that right, my Goddess?”