The Order of the Eternal Sun

by Jessica Leake

  Wren laughs. “How kind of you,” she deadpans. “My goodness, I shall refrain from waking you in the middle of the night in future.”

  I cover my mouth. “I’m awful. Of course you look beautiful as always. And what is this surprising news? Nothing bad I hope!”

  She shakes her head. “No, no. Nothing bad. Well, at least, I don’t think so. Colin may have a different opinion altogether … right, I shouldn’t keep you in suspense,” she says when I give her a look that says she’s galloping away on a tangent. “I’m here because of Izzie. She can do as you do—transport my spirit to this realm.”

  My mouth falls open in shock—I hadn’t expected her to be so powerful so soon. “How did you discover this?”

  Rowen pads over silently at my outburst of a question, returning from the balcony where he spends the majority of the night. Katherine, he projects into both of our minds, you found a conduit to transport you here? Is there urgent news? I can fetch the queen.

  “Oh, hello to you, dear fox. No, I don’t think it’s quite so urgent as that.” Wren’s image seems to flicker, as though she’s fading. “I’d very much like to see my grandmother,” she answers him wistfully, “but I fear I won’t be able to maintain my presence here much longer. Izzie missed you terribly, Lucy, and I kept finding her in your room. She’d always been interested in your paintings and things, and tonight I found her with a drawing of the portal. It was quite by accident that I touched her shoulder just as she touched the drawing, and the next thing I knew, I was here in your bedroom—which is just beautiful, by the way,” she adds as she turns to take it all in—the balcony and waterfalls and the lovely room itself.

  “This is our mother’s room,” I say thickly, nostalgic longing crashing over me like a wave.

  “Is it?” she says in a reverent whisper, her gaze darting about the room as if she wishes she can memorize ever corner. “Oh, but I’m so relieved to see you! We were worried, of course, after that rather disastrous meeting with Lord Devonshire and his friend. After Lord Devonshire followed you through …” She shakes her head. “James beat the living daylights out of the other man—his friend, apparently. He swore up and down neither of them meant you any harm, that the real danger was Lord Wallace, so we weren’t out of our minds with worry, but still, it was all rather suspicious.”

  “I’m terribly sorry, Wren,” I say, guilt settling uncomfortably in my stomach. “I should have tried to contact you right away to send word that no harm had come to me. I wish you could truly see this castle … Mama’s library, the paintings of her, even the smell of the flowers is almost beyond words.”

  “I’m so happy you’ve been able to experience so much of her realm,” Wren says sincerely. “Has Grandmother been keeping you busy?”

  “Yes, and also, so much has happened since I arrived …” Wren raises her eyebrows expectantly, and I can feel my mouth run away with me. “Alexander—that is, Lord Devonshire—followed me through the portal, and Grandmother had him arrested for treason against me. He—” I stop myself just in time before I reveal anything else. I don’t want Wren to know the truth about him yet. I can hardly face it myself, and she will never forgive him. She must be told in the right way when we have more time. Nor can she know our true plan to take down the Order. She would never allow me to risk myself in such a way, even if it is Alexander who will be in the most danger. I have no other option but to lie, and I can only hope her spirit form won’t be nearly as intuitive as her physical self. “It was a bit of a misunderstanding,” I say weakly. “But the short of it is that Grandmother has agreed to tutor him on defensive arcana as well.”

  I can see the confusion on her face. “But why would he follow you through? Did he know where he’d end up?”

  “We’re still trying to determine that,” I say weakly, and her eyebrows furrow even more. “But how is everyone?” I ask, in the hopes of distracting her. “Did Rob and Papa understand? What did you tell Rose?” I wince. “And how did Colin take it?”

  She grows suddenly still and glances behind her, and I know she’s seeing our own realm. “I haven’t much longer, I’m afraid, Lucy darling. Everyone took it well enough, though they’re concerned. Rob is fascinated by the idea of our Sylvan grandmother, and Papa is both afraid and angry about the Order finding us. I told Rose that you’d come down with something terribly contagious and we didn’t want to expose her to you.” She sighs. “I’m nearly positive she knows we’re lying, but she’s kind enough not to pry. And as for Colin, well … he took it like I’m sure you expected him to.”

  “Heavens,” I say, wincing again. “And are you still in Bath?”

  “We are. We saw no reason to cut our visit short and inconvenience Rose, and in fact, we’ve extended it. We want to be near the portal for when you return.” She glances behind her again, and her image flickers. “I really must go, darling, but before I do, will you do me a favor?”

  “Of course—anything.”

  “Will you tell Grandmother about Izzie? Ask her if this is normal … what we can expect …”

  “I will. I’ll ask her everything and write it down. What does Colin think? Is he terribly worried?”

  Wren looks sheepish. “I haven’t told him yet. Oh, don’t start,” she jumps in when she sees my expression. “I’ve heard enough from Rob on the subject. Colin is near his breaking point over you in Sylvania and the Order sniffing around. If he should know his daughter has manifested abilities strong enough to be targeted … well, I don’t even want to imagine his reaction to that.”

  “I shudder to think of it, actually,” I say, and we laugh.

  “I love you, Luce,” she says, her eyes shining.

  “I love you, too, Wren. I’ll be home soon.”

  When I wake up—rather groggily, I’m afraid, after all that happened last night—I ask Astrid to take me directly to Grandmother. Guilt chips away at me, hurrying my steps. I’ve been here for three days already, and I haven’t once asked her about Izzie as Wren requested so long ago. The thought of my niece’s power has me rather dumbfounded. She is only two years old and only part-Sylvani instead of half, and yet she can perform arcana on the same level as me. What will she be capable of when she comes of age?

  Astrid leads me to a room I suppose would be considered a sitting room in my own world, but unsurprisingly, it’s completely different from any sitting room I’ve ever seen. The soaring ceiling is glittering mosaic—small white unicorns facing off against a bright crimson dragon. The floor is white marble, and at one end is an indoor waterfall cascading into a dark pool. Serafino perches at the very top of the waterfall, letting his wing feathers dangle into the water. Grandmother sits upon a chaise lounge, drinking a cup of tea, when Rowen and I enter. She stands when she sees me, her eyebrows rising.

  “I didn’t expect you up for hours,” she says.

  I feel heat on my cheeks. “Contrary to my behavior here, I don’t usually sleep until the afternoon, though I didn’t get much sleep last night—my sister came to visit.”

  She looks surprised for a moment before nodding to herself. “I thought I’d felt a disturbance in the air. Serafino assured me it was nothing to worry about, and I knew Rowen would have come to fetch me had there been a need.”

  I offered to, Rowen projects into our thoughts.

  “It was my niece, Izzie—Isidora,” I correct myself, and Grandmother smiles a pleased smile at the name. “She transported Katherine’s spirit simply by touching one of my drawings of the portal.”

  “Our blood is strong,” Grandmother says with pride, and I think of the memory I witnessed between Grandmother and Mama. Our Sylvan bloodlines were strong.

  “That’s just it—Katherine wanted me to ask you if it’s at all unusual. You see, Isidora is only two.”

  “Is she? My stars.” The proud smile slips from her face as her expression turns introspective. “That is rather unusual, I must admit. Her father is entirely mortal?”

  “As far as we know.”


  “Hm.” Grandmother glances back at Serafino, who has stopped washing his wings in the water to attend our conversation. “The child must certainly be made to rest after such a powerful expression of arcana. I hope Katherine knows this.”

  I nod, feeling fairly confident that Wren would insist on sunlight and rest for Izzie—whether she appeared to need it or not. “I’m sure she will. I think she was most concerned about the future. If Izzie is this powerful now …”

  “She will be no doubt powerful, but I should think her arcana will be as easily hidden as yours. Her abilities are Spiritual, after all, as opposed to Corporal.”

  “I’m relieved that you should think so, though I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with those terms—I know you said yesterday that Alexander used Spiritual arcana.”

  She nods. “We call the abilities that directly affect the body—such as healing or any of the explosive offensive and defensive arts—Corporal. Your sister’s abilities fall into that category, while yours are Spiritual—though you can produce some tangible things, the majority of your power lies in the abstract, the spiritual realm. Most Sylvani have an affinity for either Spiritual or Corporal arcana, but your mother was unusual in that she had an affinity for both.”

  I know my understanding of her explanation is elementary at best, but my chest swells with pride when I think of Mama’s power. “We always knew Mama was amazing,” I say with a smile.

  “She was one of a kind in many ways,” Grandmother says with a sad smile of her own.

  “Which category does your arcana fall into?” I ask, though I’m fairly certain I know the answer.

  “Spiritual, just like you, but I’ve been gifted with a broad range of abilities—from pulling objects from the spirit realm to various aspects of prophecy. You grandfather had Corporal abilities. Generally, Sylvan unions are chosen this way—joining Spiritual and Corporal in an effort to continue the line. It was an incredible blessing when your mother developed both.”

  I think again of the memory Grandmother allowed me to see. “And you still let her leave.”

  Grandmother smiles and touches my cheek. “For you, dearest one—and for your brother and sister. Your mother and I both saw it as a fair trade, though I’m afraid your grandfather disagreed until the day he died.”

  “Well, I think I can safely say we all thank you for it.”

  She smiles. “Actually, your concern over little Izzie makes me think it’s time to test you on a portal.”

  I look at her in surprise. “So soon?”

  “We haven’t much more time. We’ll send for Alexander, and then you can open a portal to your sister’s house and send him through.”

  I think of Colin’s reaction and shudder. “Oh, Grandmother, I’m not sure … Katherine’s husband might not—”

  Grandmother waves her hand. “Her husband is the least of my concerns right now, Lucy darling. There’s no reason you cannot perform arcana of this magnitude, and I’d like for you to have one practice run before the real thing.”

  “Very well, of course I cannot say no to you.”

  Though I hope I’m up to the challenge of both opening a portal and sending Alexander through. I think of Colin happening upon him and barely suppress a shudder.

  So many things could go wrong.

  ALEXANDER cannot help but smile the moment he sees Lucy. He’d been summoned to meet Lucy and the queen in a room of wild, natural beauty. A waterfall cascades at the far end of the room while the ceiling has been created with countless mosaics. But Alexander doesn’t waste time staring at the room around him when Lucy is around—something about her draws the eye, a light within that’s difficult to ignore. He was right to think her beauty blinding during that first fateful night, or if not blinding, then at least thoroughly distracting. And here, in this setting, she seems so at ease, so at one with her surroundings.

  When she meets his eyes, she even returns the smile, and Alexander feels an answering lightness in his chest. She’s still guarded around him, and her smiles aren’t what they once were toward him, but they are steadily growing friendlier.

  His overall mood has much improved since moving out of the godforsaken cell, though the queen still keeps him under guard. After yesterday, though, he feels as though he can endure anything. Seeing his mother again was an unexpected and supremely welcome gift. Her memory had been fading in his mind as memories do—he’d often had to refer to the one photograph he had of her to remind himself of the exact shape of her eyes—and to see her again, not only in color, but in moving images … it was almost more than he could bear. But the fact that he had passed on such a gift to Lucy—allowing her to see her own mother—was the greatest gift of all.

  The Sylvani were never evil, he thinks to himself. Not when such women of character like Lucy and her mother, my mother … even the queen … exist. Lord Tyrell has led me astray, and he must face the consequences for his actions.

  Thinking of Lord Tyrell reminds him of the truth the queen imparted—the story that was almost too impossible to believe. That Lord Tyrell is actually an exiled Sylvani named Centerius, and that he created the Order expressly to drain other Sylvans of their arcana to maintain his own immortality. Many times has Alexander reviewed this in his mind, searching for any indication that it may be true. He thinks of Lord Tyrell’s walk-in vault, a room dedicated to everything he has confiscated from captured Sylvani: enchanted rings, paintings, elaborately embroidered fabrics, jewelry and gemstones. But there is a case he keeps with rows of identical rings resting on black velvet, rings shaped as ankhs—the secret symbol of the brotherhood. These rings are given to members of the Order who have risen in the ranks. They are a closely guarded secret because of their own unique ability—they store arcana, thus giving their wearer increased longevity of life.

  Alexander owns such a ring, but from the moment he touched it, he couldn’t wear it. It had brought a sense of unease with it, as though he wore something that belonged to a dead man. With a grimace, he realizes just how accurate that may be.

  “Alexander,” Lucy calls, and he is instantly pulled from his reverie. It’s not often that Lucy addresses him directly. “Grandmother has asked that I practice transporting you, and so I am to open a portal and send you to my sister’s house in Bath.”

  He winces. “That’s nearly as bad as sending me straight to Lord Tyrell’s.”

  Lucy laughs—laughs!—and Alexander grins back at her, enjoying the sound. “I daresay you’re right.” She sends the queen a pointed look. “And I told her as much.”

  The queen shrugs unapologetically. “Then send him to an area of the house least likely to be frequented by Katherine’s husband.”

  Lucy looks thoughtful for a moment. “Rob’s room!” She laughs. “Oh, what I’d give to see his reaction when you pop up in the middle of the room. It’s a cruel prank, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it after he gets over his fright.”

  “Just as long as he doesn’t hit me in surprise.”

  Lucy shakes her head. “He’s far too lazy.”

  “I can handle lazy. It’s your hot-headed brothers-in-law who take a little more finesse.”

  “Yes, well, I’m afraid they were right about you,” Lucy says, but though her words are antagonistic, her soft smile is anything but.

  Thoroughly confused now, Alexander tentatively smiles back. “Then I shall have to change their opinion of me along with yours.”

  Something sparks in her eyes, and he knows he’s said the right thing. The relief weakens his limbs.

  “Well, let’s send you into the lion’s den, shall we?” Lucy asks.

  Alexander crouches down in the unfamiliar room, his heart rate elevated just slightly. He knows Lucy said her brother wouldn’t react violently, but Alexander has trained too long and too hard not to be cautious upon entering a new environment. He is impressed as to how quickly and easily Lucy sent him through the portal. It took her no time at all to draw the room belonging to her brother, and her attention to detail h
ad been enviable—the painting on one wall of a hunting scene, the particular pattern of the oriental rug upon the floor, even a silver dish her brother keeps his cufflinks in.

  Her confidence in transforming the drawing into a means for transcending realms seemed to have risen greatly after successfully bringing the bird to life, and more so after sending it through its own portal. He smiles inwardly when he thinks of how she was a touch more anxious over sending Alexander through—a human is certainly different than a bird.

  The sound of deep breathing tells him the occupant of the dark room is asleep, and by the tone, he can tell the occupant is male.

  Alexander straightens, every muscle in his body under his complete control, making each of his motions silent. He moves toward the sleeping man in just this way, carefully listening for any change in breathing patterns. When he reaches the side of the bed, he sees what he’s looking for: blonde hair.

  In a blur, Alexander’s hand darts out and covers the man’s mouth, bringing him to a hasty awakening.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” Alexander says in a rushed whisper to the wide-eyed Mr. Sinclair. “Your sister Lucy sent me through a portal from Sylvania, and if you will agree not to alert the others, I will release you.”

  Mr. Sinclair nods after a moment, and Alexander quickly removes his hand. He sits up in bed, eyeing Alexander suspiciously.

  “Lucy sent you, did she?” he asks. “Well, of all the people in this house to wake, I suppose I was the best choice.”

  Alexander grins. “We agreed you were the least of all the evils.”

  “So why are you here? Did Katherine get word to Lucy?”

  Alexander nods. “About your niece’s arcana? Yes, and she asked me to pass on a message: her arcana is Spiritual, meaning it will be easier to keep hidden, and though it’s surprising it’s manifesting at such a young age, she comes from a powerful bloodline. Lady Thornewood should be sure to give her adequate rest.”

  Mr. Sinclair looks distinctly confused as he gets out of bed—curiously, he’s almost fully dressed instead of wearing the usual pajamas. “No, no—not about Izzie. About Lady Rose.”