I barely kept myself from startling. “Yes, of course.” My voice came out higher than I intended, especially since the door began to soundlessly open over her shoulder, a black pit in the bright sunlight. I forced my eyes to hold Lenara’s. “I want to know anything you can tell me,” I blurted. “My mother…”
Lenara folded her hands in her lap. “Your mother, like I am, was a member of a secret society called the Keepers. We have been around even longer than the Twilight Guild. Much longer. And, also unlike the Twilighters, we are almost entirely made up of those with Heshara’s gift—soulwalkers, as we are commonly known.”
Her words succeeded in drawing my attention. Most of it. The black door stood open, but only darkness, emptiness, was visible in it. No Vehyn. Maybe I could just ignore it, and if I kept Lenara’s eyes on me, she wouldn’t see it. “But my mother wasn’t a priestess,” I said.
“Most of us aren’t. I am a Keeper first, a priestess second, doing the Keepers’ work through my position here in the royal temple.”
“Like approving my mother and me for court,” I guessed, sidling a step to my right over smooth, opalescent tiles to keep her focus directed even farther away from the black door.
She smiled. “Among other things. It is a useful position to have. But unlike your brave mother, who was a Keeper first and a member of the Twilight Guild second—a spy in a den of spies—I don’t see my two roles as conflicting with each other. You see, I am doing Heshara’s work through both.”
My eyebrows rose, and I managed to forget the black door entirely. “The Keepers are servants of Heshara?”
Lenara nodded. “An ancient order supposedly founded by the goddess herself. She blessed its first members with the ability to walk through the souls of others to discover their deepest truths. Some hypothesize that this is where our gift originated. We are formally known as the Keepers of the Earth, here to maintain order and balance. To protect Ranta, in a sense.”
The divinely appointed position sounded familiar. “I thought that was the king’s job.”
Lenara’s mouth quirked. “Yes, well, some would argue that the arrangement with the kings was Tain’s idea, and the Keepers were Heshara’s. Perhaps the goddess wisely felt a mortal king, however blessed and bound to her daughter, might need help.”
That was quite interesting, and not only because it was something Nikha might like to hear—if I was ever able to tell her—but because of the other implications. “You don’t trust the king?” I asked.
“It’s not that we don’t trust him. It’s that mortals can be weak-willed, especially those without the ability to see the state of their own souls. The kings never have been able to, which has led them to restrict and persecute what they don’t understand. Nonetheless, the bond they share with Ranta is real, potent, and vital. The Keepers’ mission is to uphold the king’s sacred vow to the earth, more than we are here to uphold him, shall we say. Although, because of the vow’s nature, the distinction is often negligible.”
I couldn’t help my scowl. “So it doesn’t matter that the king punishes unregistered soulwalkers and he might have played a role in my mother’s and stepfather’s deaths?”
“The king has … flaws, shall we say … that we must overlook.” At my mouth opening in protest, she added, “Let me assure you, the Keepers are most concerned with protecting the land. Protecting the king is simply the means to do that because of Ranta’s vow.”
“How do you mean? What is the nature of the vow?”
Lenara pursed her lips. “Such things are complex and archaic and not worth delving into at the moment.”
“You don’t trust me,” I said, before I could stop myself.
She arched an eyebrow and a corner of her lips rose with it. “You are much like your mother.” With a sigh, she leaned forward on the fountain’s edge. “Which makes me want to trust you, perhaps unduly. You are not your mother, after all.”
I flinched, even though I was sure she hadn’t meant it as an insult—but it was something that had plagued me my entire life. I wasn’t like my mother. I wasn’t brave, wise, alluring, loving.
“I told you,” I insisted. “I want to help you. I want to find out who killed my mother.”
She held my eyes. “But for whose sake? Heshara’s and the stability of the land? Or for your own—for revenge?”
“For my mother’s sake,” I said, which I hoped was an answer she would accept.
She was silent, considering me. The babbling of the fountain was the only voice rising in the glowing air. My hands started to fidget, so I took up the leaf of a trailing vine, running my fingers over its softness … before I realized it was probably rude to touch anything in her soul, even if she was right here with me. Maybe especially if she was. My mother hadn’t gotten a chance to teach me the etiquette in these types of situations.
I dropped it with a flush. At the very least, my awkwardness succeeded in unfreezing Lenara’s face. Her eyes grew warmer, and she looked as if she was trying not to smile. But she still didn’t say anything.
I was too close to the answers I’d been seeking to just stay quiet. “So if the Twilight Guild was behind my mother’s death, then they had a reason to kill her. They must be plotting something, right? And maybe my mother discovered it?” I doubted Lenara would want to tell me about such things if she didn’t trust my motives, but I couldn’t help adding, “Something that could endanger the kingdom?”
“Yes, yes, and yes. That is why we are trying to figure out exactly why your mother died, and why we are working in opposition to the Twilighters.”
“Tell me what you know.” The demand was out of my mouth before I could recall it.
“Not until you join us,” Lenara said. “Become a Keeper, Kamai, like your mother before you. Follow in her footsteps. Serve Heshara with the gift she gave you.”
There was no hesitation this time. “I will. I’ll join you.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, my jaw clenched, determination radiating through my body. “Starting now.”
“Normally, we would interview you for far longer and walk your soul with you as part of the initiation process. But we can’t, because of your mother.” She sighed. “But I trusted your mother with my life, and we’re running out of time. We need you.”
“For what?”
“Repeat after me: ‘I hereby swear my body, my spirit, and my soul to Heshara’s service.’” She paused for me.
After a pause, I echoed the words.
She continued, “‘My purpose is hers and the Keepers’ forevermore, to protect her daughter, Ranta, and the earth from evil.’” She paused again, and I repeated the words again. “‘If I ever stray from her service, may Heshara take my life and cast my spirit from the warm light of her embrace and out into darkness for all eternity.’”
“Wow, that’s … a serious vow.”
“This is serious business, Kamai, and it’s a sacred vow. Say it.”
There was nothing else I could do. No other purpose for me. Still, I thought about it, perhaps only for a short while, but it felt like an hour. I had tried to seek answers on my own from the Twilight Guild, and from Vehyn, without success. Besides, this was who my mother had truly been—there was no doubt about that. So I said the vow.
My mother had put me on this path, and I was going to follow it to its end.
I tried not to recall that I’d had the same determined thought after I’d opened the black door and found the trail of roses. It was hard not to, especially with the black door behind Lenara. And especially as Vehyn appeared now in its frame.
He smiled at me, his pale hand raised. Each long, slender finger bowed once, one after the other, in a slow, silent wave.
I widened my eyes at him, my jaw clenched, willing him to be quiet. To go away.
Fortunately, Lenara was looking down at her folded hands. “Your mother died trying to discover a plot involving Hallan Lizier; his son, Razim; and the royal couple,” she said.
&n
bsp; My attention was instantly back on her. “Razim was involved?”
“They were all tied together somehow, the royal couple as well. Hallan seduced the queen consort as part of it many years ago and had a long-standing affair with her for almost two decades.”
“What?” My jaw dropped open. “Two decades?”
“His affair was for a purpose, and he was careful, as were the Twilighters. Not only were they behind whatever Hallan was up to, but they were behind both his and Marin’s deaths … and perhaps the queen consort’s.”
Perhaps he had assassinated the queen consort for the Twilight Guild, then. Hallan had never struck me as a killer. “You don’t know for sure? How do you know any of this?”
“Through Marin. Yes, I know, we haven’t had much to go off since she died, and your mother was never able to give us the complete picture. Indeed, we believe she was killed because she discovered the full scope of it.” Lenara frowned into the distance. “In any case, she insisted the Twilighters’ plan wasn’t as straightforward as a simple assassination plot, either against the queen consort or, Heshara forbid, the king. There was more to it than that.” She shrugged. “And yet, in the end, the queen consort died mysteriously, and the king’s soldiers sacked your villa and executed Hallan and Marin to bury whatever he’d done.”
Now I wasn’t focused on what Hallan had done. My jaw locked so tight I asked my question through gritted teeth. “So it was the king who gave the order?”
Razim had said it was so, but I hadn’t wanted to believe him.
“Supposedly, but we have reason to believe the Twilight Guild was manipulating the king, somehow. Blaming him will accomplish nothing. It will not lead to your mother’s true killer.”
I closed my eyes, trying to exhale my anger. Because she was right; I needed to concentrate on what really mattered. “And how was Razim involved?”
“We don’t know for sure. But Marin said he was, and the fact that he wasn’t killed along with her and the others is telling … and he has just made his appearance in court.”
“He has?”
“Yes, as a courtier, under a different name and a new title, supplied by the Twilighters, no doubt. Not so different from how your father wishes to disguise and present you.”
“He’s not my father,” I corrected without thinking. When Lenara blinked at me, I stammered, “I mean, he is, but I don’t think of him that way. I want nothing of his, not even his name.”
“But his name is protection for the time being. Marin Nuala and Hallan Lizier are names best not remembered right now. Razim is going by Ramir Zareen, a nineteen-year-old lord who appears to have recently inherited minor holdings in the far north that he has no interest in inhabiting. He has come to court to try his hand as a courtier—a musician, specifically.”
So that was why, among other reasons, Razim hadn’t wanted to show his face when he’d tried to pull me off the street. It wouldn’t have looked good for his new reputation as a musician lordling.
I bit my lip, remembering Razim playing his lyre late into the night. “At least some of that is accurate.”
Lenara was watching me closely. “Like what?”
“He’s a musician, a skilled one. And he is indeed nineteen, almost twenty. Just shy of two years older than me. Sometimes we shared birthday celebrations at the villa.” I found myself flustered. Because I also remembered how he’d begun staring at me in those later years, and Lenara was giving me a look now as if she knew. I grimaced. “This is strange. I can’t believe he’s right here, within the palace grounds. He … We…”
“You have a history, I know.”
“Yes, in that he perhaps got my mother killed, and then tried to abduct me as our home burned to the ground.”
“And he has been looking for you since. It’s a mystery he hasn’t managed to find you.”
“He did find me,” I said, somewhat reluctantly. “But only with my help.”
Lenara blinked at me. “Explain.”
So I told her, in brief, what had happened in the market with my clumsy attempt to spy on the Twilight Guild.
She rolled her eyes. “That was risky at best, downright foolish at worst. But it does confirm what I’ve suspected, so at least that’s something.”
“What?”
“That Razim is obsessed with you.” Before I could object, she added, “And that he’s been thwarted in finding you. He’s only searched through discreet channels, and yet he has access to the best of those through the Twilighters—a network second only to the Keepers’, if even.”
Her tone was puzzled, but there was a hint in her words, something she obviously wasn’t telling me. “Were the Keepers protecting me from him?” I guessed.
“That’s a part of it, but not all. We didn’t want him to find you before we could talk to you first—though you obviously foiled our intentions there,” she muttered. “And we wanted to speak to you only when you were ready. Although we were admittedly about to initiate the conversation on our own, since time is growing short. But we also believe the Twilight Guild wasn’t forthcoming with Razim about your whereabouts.”
Cold fear began gnawing a pit in my stomach. “Why would they hide me from him? I have nothing to do with them! I hate them.”
Lenara held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not accusing you, Kamai. I believe you. Perhaps they also suspect you might have an influence over Razim, who is obviously a piece in this puzzle, a pawn in their scheme, and they don’t want him to tell you what he knows … or vice versa.”
“You think he might not know the full story himself?” I asked, doubtful.
Lenara shook her head. “We don’t know. But he might be a new point of entry, a weakness in the Twilight Guild’s plan, and that’s what we need you to find out.”
My mouth went dry. Vehyn shifted abruptly in my peripheral vision, but I ignored him. “What do you want me to do?”
“Razim trusts you, or at least the Twilighters seem to think so. I honestly believe he might. You grew up together, you share memories and secrets, and he has been avidly seeking you for over two months. You could talk to him, earn his trust if you don’t already have it, and discover what he knows.”
“How?”
“The Keepers will help you. We’ll figure it out together, with regular exchanges of information through meetings like this.” In places like this that didn’t exist in the waking world, she meant. “When we wake, I’ll write you a note that will allow you to see me at any time. For now, continue doing what you are doing.”
My forehead furrowed. “Which is?”
“Marking your debut in court.”
“But I can’t marry! And still do this,” I added belatedly.
“There are members of the Keepers who are married, who have husbands, wives, or children who don’t know what they really are. Your mother was one such, for example. But,” she continued, forestalling my objection, “perhaps we can find you a different path, if you wish.”
“Anything,” I said.
“I’ll think on it. In the meantime, carry on with your debut gala, like all is normal. And Kamai…” She winked at me. “Make an impression.”
“That won’t be hard.”
It wasn’t me who had spoken. Vehyn had. I gasped, my eyes shooting to the black door. He was still leaning against the frame, his arms folded. His smile was wicked.
Lenara spun around on the edge of the fountain to look, and my heart stopped in my chest. But her questions and accusations never came. Instead, she turned back to me with a questioning look. “What startled you?”
“You don’t…,” I began, utterly baffled, looking from her to the black door. To Vehyn.
“Of course she can’t see or hear me, Kamai. Only you can.”
I wondered if he could control who saw the black door. My mother seemed to have been aware of it. But that was before I had opened it. Maybe now Vehyn had a say in the matter.
Still, it was a secret I needed to keep, for now.
And maybe, I admitted to myself, it—he—was a secret I enjoyed having all to myself. Everybody else had their secrets, their hidden knowledge. I wanted to hold on to mine …
I tried to ignore Vehyn as I cleared my throat a bit too loudly. “Strange, I thought I heard a noise, but I think it’s just nerves. I’m a little on edge.”
“I assure you, we’re alone.” Lenara stood from the rim of the fountain—oblivious to the yawning door and the person, the creature, standing therein—and put a hand on my arm. “I know this is frightening. But we’re here for you.”
“Yes, we are,” Vehyn echoed, still grinning.
15
SILENT LIES
I was now a Keeper. A member of an ancient society of soulwalkers, blessed by Heshara and sworn to protect Ranta and the earth. Like my mother had been. Throughout the next few days, I kept repeating it to myself, like a revelation. It never seemed to sink in, and every time I was left with a newfound amazement.
I was just about the only person I could tell.
After leaving the temple with me and failing to pry anything else out of me about the visit, Nikha settled even deeper into her bad mood, while mine, selfishly, only rose. Just as with the fitting, I couldn’t help but embrace the gala, because it no longer signified what it had. It was now a means to an end—a better end. But Nikha didn’t see it that way, and I couldn’t tell her otherwise.
“Just tell me that you’re not planning something horrible,” Nikha said suddenly, the day before my gala, lowering her sword. We were alone, sheltered in the warm, green courtyard of Jidras’s town house, practicing self-defense. She was teaching me how to better dodge full-size blades even if I wasn’t wielding one myself, which would have helped during the incident in the market. It had rained again, but the moisture didn’t help the heat, only worsened the humidity. Sweat poured off us, and we were both breathing hard. “This was the last thing you wanted before, and now you’re running for it with a smile on your face. I’ve heard of soldiers going into hopeless battles like that, or prisoners walking to their execution laughing.”
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