“She still revels there on occasion,” Kaila said, standing and walking over to Alaric’s desk. “I was there with her before I came home. I don’t think she cared much for the Wood either.”
“It’s infused with night magic, and she can’t control it,” Alaric said. “I think it’s also a weak point for our kind, a sort of Netherealm; even I can’t explain half the things that go on in Tiede Wood. It was there before my father brought us here, so I can only surmise that the planetary god still holds some influence over it.”
Tanghi walked over to Kaila’s side and folded his arms across his chest. He indicated the papers in Alaric’s hands with a nod of his chin. “Is there trouble?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Alaric said, his brows furrowing. “Taia noticed some disturbances in the spells she’d woven around the eastern Houses, specifically the House of Trum. We’ve been examining the patterns most of the evening while you two were out.” He handed Tanghi the papers. “I know it’s aligned to Aalae, but I need you to check on the House, find out what’s going on.”
“I can go with you,” Kaila said.
“Not yet,” Alaric said. “It’s just a scouting expedition. I’ll send you when I need to. In the meantime, I’m concerned that it might be a ploy to distract us from Tiede. That’s where I need you, Kaila. You’re only to watch. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lord.” She bowed her head.
“War,” Tanghi said, handing the papers back. “Aalae has always tried to attack Tiede directly, but it could be she’s starting in the east, taking the Houses down one by one.”
A chill went through Selina, and she gasped as something cold and wet was pressed against her face.
SEVEN
Selina opened her eyes and was blinded by the sunlight that seemed to stream through every window and crevice in the House. She groaned and put her hands over her face. She remembered being in Aalae’s worship room, being told that she had to be punished, but now she was in the room’s antechamber. She moved her hands away from her face but closed her eyes. She felt her arms for welts, wiggled a little to see if her back was sore. Nothing.
“You’re awake,” Nianni said from somewhere nearby. Selina opened her eyes, pretending that her eyelids were heavy and had to be pried open with a stick. Another cold, wet thing was pressed against her face. “You were delusional,” Nianni said, pressing the dampened cloth to her cheeks. She sat on a wooden chair next to Selina, who was lying on the settee.
Selina relaxed, allowing the cushions she lay on to absorb her whole body. She cleared her throat, then asked, “Where is everybody?”
“They decided they needed to pray to the gods about you,” Nianni answered, submerging the cloth in a wooden bowl, then wringing out the water before reapplying it. “You were talking while you were unconscious.”
“What did I say? Did Head Priestess hurt us?”
“Was this some kind of trick to get out of being punished?”
“No.” Selina pushed herself up on her elbows, pausing to let the dizziness pass. Nianni caught the wet cloth as it fell off her forehead. “Can I see Aren now? Please?”
“No. I would have to escort you, and I have no desire to be in his foolish, puffed-up presence.”
“Aren is the only one who understands me.” Selina gazed down at her fingers.
“You’re probably the only one who understands him,” Nianni scoffed. “He’s difficult to get along with; everything is a joke to him.”
The sound of rustling skirts distracted them both, and Nianni stood up, nudging Selina to do the same. The two waited as Crina and Min entered the antechamber and stood before them. Nianni lowered her head, and Selina, looking over to her, decided she should do the same. Maybe the Head Priestesses had decided that now was the time to punish them.
“I’m glad to see you’re better,” Crina said. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“I don’t remember. I know I was thinking of Aren because I was scared you were going to hit me. Then I got dizzy. Then I was here.”
“Priestess Minor,” Min said, her voice soft, “were you able to find the Historian’s Apprentice? Perhaps she has a condition we were not made aware of, and he could enlighten us.”
“I looked,” Nianni responded, “but a Messenger told me the Apprentice is on a task for Lord Vir and can’t be disturbed.”
“You mentioned the goddess Sabana,” Crina said, her eyes never leaving Selina, “and a stone. What do you know of the mage rebellions?”
Selina frowned. “Mage what?”
Crina turned her head, and she and Min seemed to communicate without saying anything. Crina turned to face Selina again, this time taking one of her hands. Selina noticed that Crina’s hands were cool and soft, but they tingled with strange power.
“Would you like to see Apprentice Aren tonight?” Min asked.
Selina’s face lit up, her violet eyes widening with delight. “Really? Yes! Please, can I?”
“Then try to remember,” Crina said. “Just concentrate on the stone. Tell us what you know about the stone.”
Selina felt her heart pump, motivated by the thought of being able to see Aren again. She focused on the room full of books, tried to return to that strange place. There was a quiet, flickering woman, a man made of fire, a prince with long black hair, the Water goddess.
“It doesn’t make sense, but I wasn’t here anymore; I wasn’t in Tiede. I was with the Water goddess, and she was talking to the Fire god,” Selina announced.
Min frowned. “You aren’t making this up just so you can see the Apprentice, are you?”
“No!” Selina was angry that they would accuse her of lying. “I know about the stone they talked about, but I don’t know about the mage thing.”
Crina nodded to placate her. “What did they say about the stone? Has the Apprentice ever talked to you about it?”
Selina cocked her head as she looked at Crina. “Why would Aren know about the stone?”
“He reads a lot of books,” Crina said, smiling. “Your Aren is very bright and knows a great deal of things. I’m sure he shares stories with you all the time.”
Selina nodded and was glad that the Priestess could admit that Aren was very smart. “He does tell me stories, but he didn’t tell me this one.”
“Could you tell us?” Crina asked. “Later, we can talk to Aren about it. I’m told he enjoys stories.”
Selina took a deep breath. “The goddess asked the Fire god what token he left behind because Sabana told her about it. The Fire god didn’t remember at first, but then he did. He said he gave it to a Priestess from Syrn because she found the sash that belonged to the Water goddess, and he wanted to give her a gift to thank her.” Crina let go of Selina’s hand, straightening as if it took great effort. She looked at Min. Both women’s eyes were large, and they both had expressions of shock on their faces. Selina and Nianni watched, wondering what they were conveying to each other. Selina wasn’t sure if this was enough to get her to see Aren, so she added, “The Fire god said the stone will give out heat until it gets broken, and it has his symbol on it. The goddess said it’s a white stone that you can find at the twin lakes, but I don’t know where that is.” Crina and Min stared down at her, and she thought Crina might cry.
Crina took a deep breath, then said, “You’ve done a splendid job. Is there anything else you remember? Anything at all?”
Selina shook her head. “The rest of it is a little fuzzy. I still get to see Aren, though, right?”
“Yes, of course,” Crina said, turning to Nianni. “Please make arrangements for dinner; you may speak to Elder to set it up. Illithe is arriving this evening, and the Apprentice is expected to attend.” Nianni bowed her head. Crina looked down at Selina again, her expression a mixture of wonder and joy. “We have much to share with Syrn.”
EIGHT
Aren was relieved to find Bontan in the House stables; the big cat read him well, and he wanted to leave the navigating to the gree. His mind
was elsewhere; the note he had found under his door unnerved him. He wondered if it was a threat. It sure sounded like one.
Keep your distance. I only saved your life for her happiness.
He had been attacked twice last night. The first time, he had defended himself from the monster; the second time, some unknown soldier had saved him. What soldier in Tiede knew Ancient? Whoever it was didn’t have to know the old language, he supposed; anyone with patience and a book for reference could have pieced the note together. And who was this her?
“Damn it,” he muttered. He wondered again what Geyle had told Vir. He put a hand on Bontan’s head, scruffing the cat’s silky, black fur. Bontan nudged Aren, a guttural purr vibrating through his throat as Aren walked him towards the gates. “At least,” he said to Bontan, “I can go home for a while, hide from all this chaos. If you run fast enough, maybe nothing will try to kill me today.”
A Guard approached from the eastern gates, the servants’ entrance. He raised a hand and Aren nodded, meeting him halfway. “Apprentice, just the man I was looking for. We received a delivery for you from Wethern’s. Do you mind signing for it?” Aren squeezed Bontan’s shoulder, and the big cat settled on its haunches, yawning and revealing its sharp, ivory teeth. The Guard handed Aren a few sheets of paper and a pen, and Aren skimmed over the receipts, signing the bottom of each. “The man who delivered it said you should conserve it because the docks are a mess. He’s not sure how steady supplies will be.”
Aren nodded and handed the Guard the papers. “Noted. Thank you. If it’s that bad, just set all the oil aside for the House; no need to put any on reserve for the Library.” Aren made a clicking noise, scratching the gree’s ear, and Bontan stood up. They walked past the verdant gardens, a lush landscape of green and stone and sand punctuated by flora in all shades of blues and purples and hints of yellow. A fountain bubbled nearby, and Aren tried to hold onto the peacefulness, inhaling the sea air and releasing his worries. He was going home to help his family, then he was going to have a bath and return straight to the Library, where he could bury himself in his work. Most importantly, he was going to keep his distance from all women, as the mysterious note advised.
“Apprentice,” a woman’s voice called out to him from one of the garden tables. He and Bontan looked over, spotting the woman in the pale-blue, lace-accented dress. “Come say hello, dear. You just missed Lady Geyle.”
Aren cringed but did as she asked, giving her a slight bow. “Good day, Lady Saris,” he said. The woman was Counselor Novin Helmun’s wife and was at least twenty years older than Aren. Her hair and eyes were light brown, her lips thin, but her mouth was wide with perfect teeth. She peeled off a white lace glove and stretched her hand out towards him. Aren obliged, wincing a little behind the long strands of hair that fell forward and concealed his eyes, as he touched the back of her hand to his lips, causing her to sigh.
“You are quite the charmer, aren’t you? If more young men were as schooled in the ways of the Old World as you are, and half as handsome, I’d be in trouble.” She laughed, the lines around her eyes and mouth showing. “You Tennari men are irresistible.”
“I’m not Tennari…” Aren started. A servant Aren had never seen before came over to refill her glass of water, dropping a thin slice of lemon in it. He began to pull another glass for Aren, but he held up a hand to decline, and the servant bowed his head. “I’d stay and chat, but I’m already running late,” Aren explained, rubbing Bontan’s head.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Saris teased. “A Messenger is on his way to find you.”
“Find me for what?”
The House Messenger came running towards him from the stable area. Saris sipped at her water, a knowing smile on her face. “Apprentice!” the Messenger called out. “Thank the gods I caught you before you left. Lord Vir canceled your trip home today.”
Aren frowned. “What? Why? Elder cleared it this morning.”
“Well, Lord Vir changed it a few minutes ago. You need to report to the parlor as soon as you stable your gree.”
Aren followed the Messenger back towards the stables. “Did he say why?” he asked, pulling Bontan along.
“His wife needs a dance partner.”
NINE
That was awkward, thought Aren as he rummaged through his wardrobe.
He had spent the better part of the afternoon in the parlor, dancing with Lady Geyle. A pianist and string musicians had been summoned to play, and Vir sat by the empty fireplace, reading through a stack of papers. Aren didn’t miss the tension between the Lord and Lady, and he cursed them for involving him in their affairs.
Aren wasn’t a dancer by any stretch of the imagination, though someone had once said he had the perfect form for it. He knew the footwork to half of the traditional and formal dances, but had fumbled enough that Geyle couldn’t stop laughing, and her merriment only encouraged the musicians to play more complex pieces. At one point, Vir put down his papers with an audible sigh, stood up, then showed Aren the proper steps.
You dance with her then, Aren wanted to say.
When the Lady was tired, the musicians packed up. Servants came in with water, chilled white wine, and an assortment of fruits and cheeses. Geyle insisted he stay, and Vir grunted his approval. The three of them sat together, Vir with his papers in his own world, while Geyle fawned over Aren, asking him about his family and Selina and what his hopes and dreams were for the future.
Aren wanted to stab himself. He had never felt more uncomfortable in his life.
He pulled his formal evening attire out of the wardrobe and laid it out on his bed. The Messenger had just announced that the Illitheiens’ ship had been spotted on the Laithe. Aren supposed that family got a pass when it came to closing off the docks. He had a few hours, but he needed every minute of it. He pulled on the midnight-blue pants and slipped the crisp white shirt over his head, buttoning up the collar. Then, he buckled up his shiny black boots. He debated bringing his favorite knife, a gift from his eldest brother, then decided to leave it on his desk. That was when he spotted the note he had found earlier:
Keep your distance. I only saved your life for her happiness.
He read the note over and over, the words becoming a mantra in his head. He tried to translate the Ancient text in different ways, hoping that his original translation was off by a word or two, but the message was clear. Flummoxed, he pushed the piece of paper into his notebook. There was a gentle rap on his door, and he jumped. He ran his hands through his hair, then answered the door. There stood Geyle, her fingers working at a ribbon on her dress.
“My Lady,” Aren started. She was the last person he had expected. His body tried to bow, but he froze midway so that he looked as though he had just pulled something in his back. “May I…?”
She slipped into his room and closed the door behind her. “Quickly, while Vir is making preparations for his family. My things. You fetched it from the Guild?”
Aren snapped to his senses and straightened up. He was finally going to be rid of that cursed vial! He fished through a desk drawer and pulled out a black iron key, then made his way over to the trunk at the foot of his bed. He worked the lock, then dug past old books and papers, trinkets, and clothes to retrieve the velvet pink pouch from inside his sock.
“Thank you, Aren,” she breathed when he handed it to her. “Gods, thank you.”
He watched as she emptied the pouch into her hand. “What is it, my Lady?”
“Just trust me,” she said. Satisfied, she placed the vial and key in the pouch and pulled the strings closed.
“Are you in some kind of trouble? If you are, I would help you but I need to know what’s going on.”
“I appreciate the risks you’ve taken for me, and I hope to explain it one day, but not now.”
Aren took a seat on the trunk and rested his elbows on his knees. “You’ve put me in an awkward position. I shouldn’t have—”
“Your eyes are always changing.” She moved t
o stand in front of him. “Light one moment and dark the next, the way the shadows move across the top of Tiede Wood.” She shook a little, as if a spirit brushed against her, and drew back. “It’s a wonder I’ve not come to know you sooner, all these years in the House.” After a pause, she said, “I should go. Vir will be wondering where I am.” She put a hand to the door as if feeling for vibrations, muttered something inaudible, then proceeded to leave.
Aren stood to bid her a respectful farewell, but she was already gone. The key and vial were gone. He could move on with his life and pretend that the whole ordeal with the Lady had never happened. That would be his wisest course of action. He put on his vest, grabbed his tie and dinner jacket, as well as the ceremonial saber, then left his room, almost bumping into the Priestess Minor, who was poised to knock. They both jumped back, alarmed.
“Why are you trying to scare me?” she growled, her hand over her heart.
“You’re the one stalking me,” he pointed out. Her cheeks warmed and her eyes grew angry as she prepared to unleash a barrage of insults at him, but he held up a hand to stop her. “What did you need to see me about?”
“You are such a…” Nianni seethed. “Pal’qa!”
“I don’t know that word, Priestess! I must’ve made you really mad. You’re pretty when you’re mad,” he teased. “You get worked up and all your silver goes jingle-jangle.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.” He smiled. “Now, what can I do for you?”
Nianni breathed in deep to calm herself, then said, “Head Priestess and Elder Tanda have arranged for you and Selina to have dinner in the small dining room while the Illitheiens are here.”
“Is there a reason for this? I was told that she’s supposed to keep contact with outsiders to a minimum. Even my sister, Selina’s legal guardian, has been asked to wait until after this preparation period. So, this leads me to believe you need me for something.”
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