When he finally chose to speak, his voice was lower than a whisper, drifting in and out of the evening’s rhythms. “I always expect you home by dawn, and I expect you immediately when I call, especially when I have to answer a Summons.”
Kaila shifted her gaze from the books to his face and wished she could look into his eyes, which were focused on the weapon in his hand. His black-indigo hair was straight and fine as silk, falling past his shoulders to his elbows, and every so often was stirred by the winds drifting in and out of the room. His features were sharply defined: from his arched brows and strong nose to the jut of his cheekbones and the angles of his chin and jaw. His lips bordered on thin but had a softness and the slightest bit of color that made them inviting and pleasing to the eye.
You’re so beautiful, she thought. Please don’t turn.
He looked up from the blade and locked his eyes onto hers; she couldn’t help but gasp, the anger evident in his gaze. “Why do you insist on disobeying me?” he asked without raising his voice. “What business did you have that kept you from coming home?”
She thought of Selina and Aren and felt it would be best not to mention them, but knew that she had to give up some truth or Alaric would see right through her. She concentrated on the shifting hues of night in his eyes, trying to find the gentleness she knew was there.
“I got caught up watching the mortals in Tiede. The Priestesses from Syrn have arrived, and the whole city is excited. I sat in the tavern, listening to their songs and watching their dances. I lost track of time. I promise no one saw me.”
Alaric growled in his throat and slammed the blade onto his desk. Several vials shattered, the glass scattering. Kaila winced but held her ground. She knew her answer would upset him. She had counted on it.
He rose with the care and precision of a wild cat stalking its prey. He wore a black, fitted coat with a high collar, three wide leather straps buckling it tight against his chest. A long cape slipped from his shoulders to the heels of his boots. He leaned forward on his desk, palms pressed into the shards of glass, staining the papers beneath with a deep, inky red.
“Leave us, Tanghi,” Alaric demanded.
Tanghi frowned and looked at Kaila. He opened his mouth as if to argue but closed it when Alaric’s eyes bore down on him. He clenched his fists, bowed, and left the room. Alaric slammed the doors shut with a boom that caused more than a few books to tumble off the shelves.
Nothing could be as bad as the time when the fisherman had almost killed her or when Alaric had turned demon after he found out she had played cards with a mortal man. If he didn’t turn, she could handle this.
Alaric dusted the glass off his hands and pulled a piece of fine linen cloth from a waist pocket, wiping off the blood as if it were water. He tossed it onto his papers and walked around to the front of the desk, his tall boots thumping against the stone floor. He stopped in front of her, leaned against the desk, and folded his arms across his chest. “We are preparing for war,” he said, emphasizing each word. “The fate lines are changing so fast that my sister feels compelled to summon me over the Priestess count. Did you even know that Sabana and Geir were following you?”
“No, but I understand what you’re saying, my Lord. It will not happen again.”
Alaric hung his head and sighed. “Just words. You say this only to pacify me; you have no intention of changing.”
She couldn’t deny it, but she did feel a little bad for not making the effort. She didn’t know what he had to go through to keep Aalae in check, and she understood that there was much more at stake than hurt feelings between the twins. There were mortals whose lives depended on the peace between the Night and Light Realms. It was their faith and worship that fed the gods and gave them power, so it was her duty to protect them as best she could, and she could accomplish that by listening to and obeying Alaric. She loved him, after all.
“I disobeyed you this time, but I will take care not to do it again.”
He moved closer and she could feel him gauging her honesty. His lips turned up into a slight smile, and he placed his hands on her shoulders. “I worry about you,” he said. “With the latest readings on the fate lines, and the concern about the new Priestess—”
“If there is anywhere on Cordelacht I am most protected, other than the Islands, it’s Tiede.”
He lowered his head, breathed in the scent of her, then placed a kiss on her cheek. “Watch the House and let me know what you hear of the new Priestess. She should fall under the Night’s blessing, and Aalae has her sights on her. But I want you back here tomorrow morning and every morning after.”
Kaila brightened and left Alaric to his papers and books and planning. She couldn’t help but sigh in relief as she left the room, even though she knew he was still watching her. Tanghi waited just outside, leaning against a wall, staring at the floor. The ribbons of fire that were snaking around his forearms were dull and lifeless, but as soon as the doors to the study opened, he perked up. She grabbed his hand and led him back towards the Great Hall.
“You’re pushing your luck,” Tanghi pointed out. The fire surrounding him had become lively and bright again, but the tone of his voice told her he was being serious. “You’re fortunate he didn’t turn.”
“He’s so overprotective!”
Tanghi swept a large hand in the air, as if brushing aside her argument. “He’s in love with you, and he has been for a very long time. If anything happened to you—”
“He is bound to Taia.” She stopped and turned on him. “He can love me all he wants, but that won’t break his bond, and I won’t sit by his side like a lovesick mortal dreaming of the day he’ll be free to be with me.”
“I just want you to be more aware of why he acts as he does. Be honored that he should hold you so dear.”
She nodded, but it hurt too much to talk about it. “I’m returning to Tiede with his blessing.”
Tanghi stared at her for a moment longer, then said, “If you happen to come across Geir, make sure he’s okay. He was at the Summons, but I sensed something off about him.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Kaila promised. She’d find out exactly why he ratted on her too.
TWENTY-ONE
The Laithe Inlet was breathtaking. The waters were deep blue and washed up onto a creamy pebbled shore. The stark white cliffs of Tiede towered over the inlet, and remnants of a natural bridge seemed to stretch and reach to the point where it once connected the high western cliffs to the lower ones in the east. On a moonlit night, the Laithe was surreal: inky liquid, glowing rocks, and the splash of ghostly foam.
Kaila stretched out her legs and leaned back on her arms, watching the play of moonlight on the ocean surface as she tried to make sense of her actions. She had become fascinated with a pair of mortals and went so far as to place a powerful blessing on one and stalk the other. What was she thinking? No wonder Alaric was irritated; she was beginning to question her own logic.
She shook her head as if to make the doubt go away. She always had reasons for doing the things she did, and Alaric needed to learn to trust her. Kaila had blessed Selina because she wanted to protect her. It had been the right decision. The little girl had turned out to be the next chosen Priestess, and without a birth-blessing, she could have been taken in by either Realm. Kaila’s blessing couldn’t replace a birth-blessing, but it did bind Selina to the Night Realm. Alaric should thank her.
A breeze lifted Kaila’s hair, and she turned in anticipation, joy filling her chest. The man who appeared resembled one of the angels, with his large white wings stretching then folding. Kaila jumped to her feet, leapt up onto the rock on which he was standing, and threw her arms around his neck.
“It’s good to see you too,” he said, returning her embrace. His breath was warm against her cheek, his voice like a lullaby.
“I’ve missed you, Geir.”
“You would have seen me earlier had you shown up for the Summons.” He let go of her. “Aalae took advantage of you
r absence.”
Kaila remembered her anger with him. “She wouldn’t have been able to take advantage if you hadn’t told her I was in Tiede!”
“It wasn’t me. Rafi has been tailing you.”
“Rafi?” she echoed. Rafi was Aalae’s mate, a master of potions, devious and oily. “Why would he be tailing me?”
“Because you are Alaric’s weakness,” Geir said, as if it were obvious.
She felt stupid and realized that everything Alaric had said about her being naïve was true. She didn’t want to think about it, though. Geir was with her now, and she always felt better in his presence. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
He kicked a pebble off the rock’s ledge. “I have things to attend to, fate lines to untangle. I just happened to be in the area when I felt your presence.”
“But you hate Tiede.”
“Most days.”
A silence settled between them, disturbed only by the wash of water over the rocks. Kaila wondered what she could say to make him stay longer.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, surprising her. “You’re usually in the Islands when you’re in a brooding mood.”
“I don’t brood!” she shot back. She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. “I don’t mean to brood.”
He laughed a little, and the sound of it was heaven to her ears. Over the last several decades, Geir had changed. He used to be more carefree, always taking risks and following his heart. He never hesitated to relinquish his powers just to walk among the mortals, and it made Aalae furious. As rebellious as he was, he managed to remain obedient; so it came as a surprise when Geir disappeared one wet, spring day. He couldn’t be found for weeks. He eventually showed up months later at a Council, his face shrouded, his body battered and scarred. Alaric said it was because his sister had punished him when he finally came home. The blindfold appeared not long after. Geir stopped laughing and joking, and spent most of his time with his birds.
To hear him laugh just a little was something akin to a miracle. Kaila had to keep talking, to keep him close. “The new Priestess has been chosen. I’m to watch over her until the initiation,” she said.
“Everyone is waiting to find out about the blessing.”
Kaila bit at her lower lip, wondering how much she should share. There were things she hadn’t puzzled out, things that she had yet to tell Alaric, but she trusted Geir, and she was ready to tell him almost anything just to have him stay a while longer.
“The girl was Unblessed. I placed a blessing on her before I even knew she’d been chosen.”
Geir’s expression didn’t change. “Now you’re bonded, and you haven’t told Alaric. It explains why you’re brooding.”
“The connection is stronger than any blessing I’ve bestowed before.” Kaila wrung her hands. “Unless I figure out what compelled me to bless her, I can’t tell Alaric, and I beg you not to mention a word of this to anyone.”
He shrugged. “What does it matter? Because of what you’ve done, Aalae can’t touch her.”
“I just want him to hear it from me, and he’s going to want a good reason as to why I’ve connected myself to a mortal. He’ll want to know how I did it, what the situation was, and what risks I’ve created.”
Geir spread his wings. “I promise I won’t tell, but figure it out soon because war is coming; I can hear it on the winds. You did what you felt you had to do; let that be reason enough. Trust your instincts.”
“I’ll figure it out,” she assured him. “I don’t want Alaric to get angry because there was a man with the little girl, and—”
“Past the age of reason?” Geir’s wings shuddered.
Kaila wondered why she was blushing. “Well, yes, but—”
“You know better, Kaila. Remember what happened to the card player in Kaishar? Go near this man and you endanger his life,” Geir warned, spreading his wings open again. “He’s in Tiede?”
“Yes; he’s nothing—just the girl’s guardian,” she said, downplaying what she knew. “He works with the Elder in the House Library. He’s harmless.”
“Every mortal is something,” he said, spreading his wings wider. “And I sense you’re hiding something about this one.”
TWENTY-TWO
Aren had to hurry. His paranoia over the key was growing, and he was imagining people stalking him. Relax, he told himself. Look natural and everyone will either ignore you or curse you the way they always do. He cut across the town center, the large House crest laid into the marble pavement in a gleaming star-metal. A ring of water protected by a shield of glass encircled the crest, the constant movement produced by an elaborate underground system that also fed into the various ornate fountains on display.
Aren reached into a pocket and pulled out a Tiede qint, a small copper piece, and flicked it into a random fountain without pausing. As he began to descend the northern steps of the market district, he recited to himself, “Wisdom to see beyond the reflection.”
It was from a story he had read about a young man who explored one of the dozens of caverns tucked into the cliffs overlooking the Laithe Inlet. Deep in the tunnels, he discovered a cave whose floor was made up of a gigantic looking glass. When he peered into the glass, his reflection showed him everything he desired: riches, women, power. He was mesmerized by how different he looked: handsome, strong, and well kept.
Then, a beautiful woman appeared, telling him that the reflection wasn’t real. He didn’t understand, so she asked him to throw a copper qint at the mirror. The mirror swallowed the coin, and ripples pulsed across the surface, concentric circles disturbing the once pristine reflection.
The woman turned out to be the Water goddess, and she told him that the pools were where wishes and dreams were stored, waiting to be released. To look into them was to see all that you wanted, but to look beyond the reflection, beyond your own shallow desires, was to find wisdom. The man was devastated and longed for the images he had seen. He stepped into the pool, and the moment he touched the water, a hundred hands reached out and pulled him under before the goddess could save him.
Aren wondered what he would see if he were the young man in the story. An image of whom his biological parents were, perhaps? A home where he blended in with all the other people, where he didn’t look out of place? A woman who loved him for who he was and not for whatever she perceived him to be?
Wisdom to see beyond the reflection, he reminded himself. He shook away his wishes and pressed on.
Wethern’s Oil & Torch Shop was nestled between a hat shop and an apothecary, both of which were closed. Aren had seen several signs along the way indicating that one shop or another was closed while the owner was away at the annual Relythaun Market. He hoped Wethern’s had remained open.
Aren frowned at the darkness in the front window, then turned the door handle and found it locked. He rang the bell by giving the string by the doorframe a few tugs. At first, nothing happened, but he gave it a moment, his eyes scanning the upstairs window for any sign of movement. He was about to ring again when a man with a large head covered with thick brown hair leaned out the window.
“What is it?” The man’s voice was gruff and slurred with sleep. Aren pushed back his hood to reveal his face and took a step into the pool of white light that fell from the streetlamp behind him in order for the man to see the crest embroidered on his sleeve. “House,” the man mumbled. “I’ll be right down.”
Aren waited, then heard three locks click and grate against their will. The man pulled the door open with a grunt and gestured with meaty fingers for Aren to come inside. “Where’s Mister Wethern?” Aren asked as he stepped inside, the man closing the door behind him. The shop smelled of straw, sandalwood, bitter citrus, and noxious incense. He winced, tempted to cover his nose but not wanting to offend.
“Headed to the Relythaun,” the man said, walking past Aren to strike a matchstick and light a lamp sitting on the counter. The resulting light had a rose-colored tint to it, as did
the oil from which the wick drank. The glass in the shop took on a strange grainy quality as the light touched it. “I’m Igmalanius Tunforq, his—as you call it here—apprentice. I go by Tun, since my name is hard for you Tiedans to pronounce. Now, who are you, and what can I help you with? I see you serve the House.”
Tun had a way of leaning his upper body forward when he moved and spoke, as if his head were so heavy it caused him to tilt. The lean must have blocked something in his throat because his speech sounded like his words were being stepped on.
“Well, Apprentice Igmalanius Tunforq,” Aren said the name with a clarity that informed the other that he wasn’t stupid. “I’m Aren, the House Historian’s Apprentice, and I need to purchase oil.” Tun maneuvered himself around to the other side of the counter, where flasks and vials of all shapes and sizes winked along the wall like the liquors in a tavern. “Long-burning, smokeless. Wethern kept a special type for the House as well as an additive for use in the Library.”
Tun grunted and something gurgled in his throat. He pulled a small flask down from the top row by using a long pole with a tiny horseshoe-shaped implement on the end. “This is the additive that won’t cause the build-up,” he mumbled, rubbing the hair on his immense head. “The House uses more oil than most. They should consider modernizing.”
“It’s a zealous Night House. Worship to the Fire god is important,” Aren said. “I’ll need a case of the House oil—better make it two.”
Tun leaned the pole against a corner, and Aren pulled out his coins, counted out the right amount, then placed them on the counter.
“We’re out of the fancy House oil,” Tun said, scratching his head. “We’re expecting a shipment from the docks tomorrow. The Harbor’s been backlogged, as you can imagine.”
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