My throat went suddenly dry. “Eligibility for what?”
“For marriage, of course. You are now a woman grown, and with your lack of interest in a suitable career path and with our recent … differences … it has become especially apparent to me that you no longer belong under my roof. All I can hope is that the right man will find you more agreeable, and the sooner I find him, the better.” He took a jerky sip of coffee.
“No,” I said, my voice faint, “I don’t want to marry. I’ll do anything else.” I couldn’t help the pleading in my words. This was worse than anything I thought he would do. “I’ll be an accountant, I’ll—”
“It’s too late for that.” There was satisfaction, even relish, in his tone. “Too late for me to trust you to your own whims.”
My own whims. In a twisted way, he was inflicting on me what he couldn’t on my mother—consigning me to a man who could contain me, have me by law.
“You gave me only weeks to decide how the rest of my life would unfold! This isn’t fair!”
Jidras ignored me. “You will be well matched,” he carried on, as if waving away any concern I might have had about my potential husband’s social standing—as if that were even close to the nature of my actual concern. “I will give you a respectable dowry, a respectable name, and the chance at a respectable future. Any child of mine will have no less.” It sounded more like a requirement than a gift, especially with what he said next. “And in turn, any child of mine will be worthy of no less. Is that clear?”
“Now I’m your child?” It was all I could think to say in the face of such a thing. For a burning second, I wished I did have a letter to threaten him with. To show the world.
He didn’t bother responding. “I think I’ve lost my appetite, both for breakfast and this conversation. Make yourself presentable.” He stood from the table without another word.
“We’re not going to court now, are we?” My horror was audible.
“Your gala probably won’t be possible without a week’s notice, at least. Invitations must be sent to the proper parties, after all, and other arrangements made.” He pursed his lips as he looked me over. “But I want the royal clothier to fit you for a new gown, and you need to see a priest of Heshara.”
That stopped my breath short. “What?”
He arched a cool eyebrow at me. “Don’t you know? Anyone and everyone, before they are granted entrance at court, must see one of the royal priests or priestesses.”
“Why?” My chest was so tight it was hard to squeeze out more than a word.
“They must vouch you are of sound mind and lacking in murderous intent before allowing you near the king. Even you, I think, shouldn’t have much of a problem there.” He muttered as he left the dining room, “It will be the least of our obstacles.”
I sat, staring at the wall in numb shock. How quickly he had turned this situation against me, just like Vehyn had, when all I had wanted was an apology. The only thing either of them had given me was fear. I was too afraid to hate them both as much as I really wanted.
Because there was a problem. Several problems for a priest or priestess to discover. Such as the fact that I was a soulwalker and seemed to have no soul to boot. Such as the black door.
Perhaps Jidras wasn’t consigning me to a fate worse than death after all. It might only be death.
* * *
I had less than an hour to prepare. Less than an hour to change into the most innocent-looking gown I had. Less than an hour to pray to Heshara to spare my life. Less than an hour until I was in the carriage, seated next to Nikha, across from Jidras, as we rode toward the royal palace, all of us silent.
There were many types of silence. Nikha’s was born of confusion—I hadn’t time to tell her what had happened—Jidras’s of anger, mine of fear. I wished I could wrap myself in silence like a cloak, use it as armor. For a second, I missed the fortress behind the black door and its thick, heavy silences. Next to this, it seemed almost like a safe haven.
What does Vehyn think about all this? I wondered. There hadn’t been time to even attempt a nap, and he hadn’t spoken in my head since last night. He’d said it was difficult when I was awake. Maybe he couldn’t now. Maybe he would just have to watch a priest or priestess of Heshara accuse me, condemn me, and then sentence me to death.
I scrunched my nose against the sting in my eyes and stared out the carriage window so the others wouldn’t notice.
In the late-morning sun, colorfully tiled roofs burst like blossoms on the sandstone stems of the sheer-faced multistory houses and buildings, winding up the hill toward the bright walls of the palace. Behind them, mountain gullies were emerald green from the recent rain. Women’s pale scarves bobbed through the streets like seeds in the wind, out in abundance under the punishing sun. It wouldn’t rain every day, only several times a week. Shaded by our covered carriage, I wore my own scarf looped over my head, more to hide from the world than from the sun. But there would be no hiding from Heshara and her priests.
They would find me out.
When we pulled to a stop and our driver opened the carriage door in front of a towering sandstone wall with its narrow, silver-plated gate depicting the phases of the moon, Jidras hopped out immediately. Before I could even gather the courage to follow, Nikha put a hand on my knee. It was such a familiar gesture.
“Are you all right?” she asked, only concern in her voice. “What haven’t you told me?”
Everything. The word stuck in my throat. But it was true. I had taken Nikha for granted by not sharing with her. There was someone in the waking world who cared for me. She had been easy to disregard so I could feel sorry for myself, but she was here, for me. A companion who’d treated me with respect and consideration, who’d listened to me, who’d never tried to treat me like someone I wasn’t, who’d sat through countless awkward meals with me at my request, who’d patiently beaten me in defense training and graciously been beaten at Gods and Kings more times than I could count, and who I highly doubted would care that I never wanted to sleep with anyone. So what if she was a little overly protective at times? She’d saved me from Razim, after all.
She was my friend, my only friend, and I’d been a coward in return, too afraid of what she might think of me if she knew the truth. I should have confided in her, because I owed her better.
Instead, I’d lied to her, risked her life, and turned to Vehyn and the black door, and look where that had gotten me.
“I’ll tell you, I promise.” If I survive the week. “I wish we had time now, but…”
Jidras cleared his throat loudly outside the carriage. I tucked my scarf tighter around my head and stepped out into the sunlight. Nikha followed, scarfless—I’d still never seen her wear one. She knew something was wrong even if she didn’t know what, and she kept close behind me, on her guard.
Standing on the stone cobbles before the silver gate, Jidras eyed her critically. “I don’t think we’ll be needing you inside, Nikha. You’re hardly dressed appropriately, and the palace guards will be more than enough protection. She’s only seeing a priest, for Tain’s sake. I’m not sure why you’re acting like she’s going into an ambush.”
“But, sir—” Nikha started.
“Wait by the carriage.” His tone left no room for argument. He swept toward the gate, which a pair of armed guards, dressed in ceremonial silver-plated armor, opened for him. With a backward look at Nikha, I followed. She grimaced after me.
Each step up the cobbled path felt like I was indeed walking into an ambush, or toward my execution. I barely noticed the meticulously groomed garden around me, or the perfect canals that trickled through them. All I could see was the towering white crescent spires and the black dome of the temple, as alternately sharp and rounded, bright and dark, as the moon itself, Heshara herself. Its lack of color set it apart from the rest of the palace.
Colors were Ranta’s domain. Since the king was her ceremonial husband and steward, rainbow hues were in abundance at the
palace, not only in the form of bright mosaics and paints I could see from here, but also a riot of flowers. Despite those signs of the earth goddess, and the many sculptures of her wearing dresses made of water or blossoms, her husband had never even seen her, though both she and their marriage were real. I’d admired her parents’ protectiveness as a child—Tain and Heshara had taken every precaution for their daughter, recruiting their most devoted and valiant mortal servant, crowning him the first king of Eopia, and binding Ranta to him and the rest of his line in marriage—but now I wondered if the young Ranta’d had any say in the matter.
The queen consort certainly hadn’t. Never mind that her husband was also married to a goddess; she’d apparently been executed for dallying with Hallan. From what I could tell, marriage didn’t favor women.
Jidras and I reached the wide steps of the temple together, which alternated in black and white marble up to the imposing front doors. After touching between his eyes in respect to Heshara, he started up without hesitation. My heart tried to leap into my throat, blood thundered in my ears, and I suddenly felt hot. Dizzy. Maybe I would faint and not have to do this.
No such luck. I only succeeded in standing there, staring like an idiot, until Jidras hissed at me impatiently to follow. All I could do was squeeze fistfuls of my skirt and start up after him. How had my mother managed this? She had been at court more times than I could count, which meant she must have gained approval from the clergy. But she’d undoubtedly been the exact type of person they wouldn’t have allowed in, who they would have arrested and imprisoned, or pressed into their service … or executed. As a soulwalker and courtesan, how had she stayed hidden, survived for so long?
Perhaps if she hadn’t kept so many secrets from me … As fast as a wave of anger swept through me, shame followed. My mother would have expected more from me, to be able to work through the situation on my own. She’d given me the tools to do so.
Think, think, I told myself, with every step that brought me closer to doom. Jidras was at the temple doors now, nodding to the guards and pointing back at me. No matter how I racked my brain, I couldn’t think of anything that would save me.
But there was someone else who might. Something. The exact creature my mother had never wanted me to turn to, whom I’d just sworn off after making that mistake one too many times already. And yet perhaps he was the only one who could help me now.
Vehyn, I thought. If you’re in there … of course you’re in there. I’m in trouble, in case you hadn’t noticed.
No response. I reached the high, arching doorways carved with the phases of the moon, where Jidras had already vanished into the cool dimness. The guards nodded at me, gesturing for me to enter. When I did, I could barely make out the cavernous interior, constructed in black and white stone, both because my eyes were still adjusting from the bright light outside and because my focus was entirely elsewhere.
They’re going to imprison me, maybe put me to death, if they find out what I am.
Jidras stopped at a short podium near the front of the entry hall to talk in low tones with a young, white-robed priest. The sight of the man spiked fear through me, made my breath come short, my steps stutter to a halt. The incense suffusing the air felt suffocating when it would have otherwise been pleasant. Would they be able to tell I was a soulwalker immediately? Would they denounce me on the spot?
Vehyn, I’m scared, and I thought you didn’t want me to fear anything else. The least you can do is make yourself useful. Take my fear away.
“… and it is indeed Priest Agrir she’ll be seeing today, is it not?” Something in Jidras’s tone told me whomever I was supposed to see was important.
The priest nodded. “He is expecting her. Right this way.”
Not him. I almost gasped in relief at the voice in my head, and then nearly tripped when my foot flushed warm and tingly, twitching underneath me, to my right. Move, Kamai. This way.
I didn’t mind his bossiness so much now. Without even thinking about how odd I must look, I turned and stumbled away from the podium, from Jidras and the priest, toward a series of doors punctuating the right wall of the temple wing. My eyes downcast, I dodged a line of pale columns in my peripheral vision, the white-and-black-checkered tiles passing in a blur beneath the flicker of my slippered toes.
“Kamai,” Jidras called, surprised. “That’s not the way.”
But it was Vehyn’s way, a last resort, and my feet twitched one or two more times until I nearly fetched up against one of the heavy wooden doors. Before I could debate whether to knock or just barge right in, it opened.
I found myself facing a priestess, her night-dark face lined with about as many years as Jidras’s, making her somewhere shy of fifty. Her white hood was drawn, but I could see the beginnings of black braids streaked with silver. She was taller than me, her cheekbones sharp in her face. Her eyes widened in a brief flash as they met mine.
Jidras strode up behind me, the young priest trailing. “Kamai, what are you doing?” he hissed, clearly embarrassed. To the priestess, he said, “Apologies, my daughter isn’t used to being at court, and this is her first time in—”
“I want her,” I said. “I want her to conduct my interview.”
“Why ever would you?” Jidras lowered his exasperated voice with a sheepish glance around the temple. “It’s not as if you know her, and we have an appointment with the king’s own holy adviser.”
“I … I’d be more comfortable with a woman, I think.”
That drew them all up short. It was hard to argue against that, though the priest standing at Jidras’s shoulder made an attempt: “Priest or priestess, it makes no difference in the eyes of Heshara. We are all her servants—”
“Perhaps this is Heshara’s will,” the priestess said, speaking up for the first time, her voice deep and smooth, authoritative without being sharp. “I am happy to be of service.” Without another word, she ushered me into the chamber she’d just been leaving, shutting out Jidras and the other priest, their eyes wide with bafflement.
This was all well and good, but as soon as she turned to face me, I had no idea what to say.
She did. She took one look at me and said, “You’re Kamai Nuala.”
Nuala, not Numa.
She knew me, even if I didn’t know her. And I realized that knowledge might save my life or end it all the sooner.
13
FORMIDABLE FRIEΝDS
“You’re Marin’s daughter,” the priestess continued, leaving no doubt she knew exactly who I was. She walked past me, moving for the heavy wooden desk at the back of her office, flanked on either side by two long, brown leather couches—one for her, one for whomever’s soul she was investigating.
Maybe I’d been wrong and Vehyn did want to get me killed. He’d led me to someone who would already have cause to suspect me. “I don’t—”
“Don’t worry. Your identity is safe with me. I knew your mother well. We … worked together … in some capacity.” The woman threw back her hood, sat down at the desk, and opened a drawer to pull out a pen—when I’d been expecting a vial of sleeping tonic. “My name is Lenara. She must have told you about me, since you knew to seek me out. And good thing. It isn’t safe for you anywhere else here.”
“She…” I hardly knew where to begin. “She didn’t tell me everything. How did you two…”
“I know what she was,” she said, without preamble. “And I know what you are. I can help you … and I think you can help me.” Throughout all these jaw-dropping pronouncements, she dipped her pen in ink and began busily writing on a crisp sheet of parchment.
She knew what I was. There would be no trial. No imprisonment. No death sentence. And yet my relief was short-lived. Because if this woman knew of my mother and me through the Twilight Guild—and I could think of no other explanation that made sense—then there was no way I could help her in return.
“My mother wasn’t only a courtesan and pleasure artist,” I said hesitantly, testing the wat
ers, “or even only … what it is that we are.” I still wasn’t comfortable saying soulwalker out loud. My mother had warned me of the danger for so long.
Lenara looked up and met my eyes. Her gaze was warm, heavy. Understanding. “I know. And she wasn’t only a member of the Twilight Guild, either. She was something else, on top of all that. And I don’t only mean an amazing woman, which she was as well.”
“Some—something … else?” I stammered. “What else?”
“There are hidden forces at work other than the Twilight Guild. One, in particular, that works in opposition to them.”
She went back to writing.
I couldn’t help but ask. “Who?”
Lenara didn’t look up at me this time, but her words were just as cautious. “Now isn’t the best moment.”
I didn’t know if she meant we didn’t have time for discussion, or that she was worried we might be overheard, or that she wasn’t sure she could trust me yet. In any case, I was desperate to know more, enough to risk another question. “At least tell me if my mother was a part of … this … while pretending to be a member of the Twilight Guild.”
She met my gaze again and nodded slowly.
“I want to help,” I said immediately.
She arched an eyebrow. “You don’t even know what it is I do, other than this.” She tossed a glance around the room.
“If you’re against the Twilighters, that’s good enough for me. They killed my mother. Or at least she told me they were responsible for whatever might happen to her, and I believe her.”
Lenara nodded again, surprising me. “And I believe the same.” She put a few finishing strokes on the parchment before her. “Here, take this, and return to me in several days’ time.”
“What is it?”
“You were here to get approved for court, were you not? You’re making your debut?”
“Yes, but…”
“This is your approval. According to this, you lack Heshara’s rare gift, and you have only the best intentions for the kingdom. Only one of those is true, but no one has to know that. Am I correct?”
Beyond the Black Door Page 14