Uniting the Heavens

by Emily English

  Alaric slashed at the images, and the dust fell to the floor. “He belongs to Aalae. She has taken whatever legend he was, whatever joy and love he’s known, and broken him. She will have everything he is, and anything you share with him becomes hers. Do you understand?” She nodded once, keeping her eyes averted, not wanting to hear any of it. “What did you tell him?”

  Kaila sighed. What choice did she have? Best he heard it from her and not, gods forbid, Aalae. “I found out that the new Priestess was Unblessed.” Alaric froze as he considered her words. His eyes, cold and dark, locked onto hers, and she felt she was on more familiar ground again. “I blessed her,” she said with all the confidence she could muster. “I felt compelled to bless her, and she hadn’t yet reached the age of reason, so I had the right to my powers. She’s linked to the Night Realm now, and Aalae can’t touch her.”

  “What kind of blessing could you place that would link her to us?”

  She had hoped he wouldn’t ask that. “I’m not sure. It just sort of happened, but I know she’s linked. I can feel her.”

  He shook his head and laughed, but Kaila wasn’t sure if he was happy or not. “These truly are the end times. You were the one rearranging the fate lines I was following.”

  “I did? I was?”

  “Everything was a disaster. All the lines pointed to the destruction of Night,” he said. “Taia and I kept reworking the lines. We thought Aalae was on to something with the Priestess count. It turns out you changed something, and now the Realms are balanced again, though it’s a tenuous balance to be sure.”

  “I did the right thing?”

  “For now, yes.” He gave her a smile. “This is why you can’t keep secrets from me. I’m trying to save the world, remember?”

  Geir was right. She had nothing to worry about. She did what she had to do, and she had done the right thing.

  “Taia’s still not so sure about it,” Alaric said.

  “She mentioned the fate lines when we argued last,” Kaila said, eager to keep the conversation away from when and how and why she had blessed Selina. “She didn’t tell me what it was I did, but she was very angry.”

  Alaric let out a sigh, and the demon marks flitted across his features. “She is angry with me as well. Something in her reading shows that events are driving us closer, and she’s threatened by that.”

  Kaila felt her heart race. “Does she have good reason to feel threatened?”

  “I’m not sure if it’s related to what you did with your blessing or not. Tanghi says it’s because of the way I treat you. He says I should be less obvious.” Alaric’s eyes met hers, held her. “I’m not like my sister; she weaves intricate lines to get what she wants. She’ll mask her emotions, present different faces to different people. You never know what her true motives are or what she’s really thinking.” He crossed his ankles and studied the buckles on his boots, releasing her from his hold. “I am enraptured by you. I can’t hide that. I won’t pretend to believe that I can change the promises I’ve made or alter my destiny, but what I do know is that I’m miserable when you aren’t near me.”

  Without considering the consequences, she said, “We can never be together. Why do you continue to lead me on and try to make me believe that if I just wait long enough, something will change?”

  He lifted his gaze to look at her. “What if it does? The lines—”

  “And what if it doesn’t? We’ve been playing at this since the beginning, and I thought at some point Taia would let you go. Now, you’re telling me that something is happening to drive us together, and she can’t stop it. You’d make me believe again…” She trailed off. “It feels like it really could be the end times. One continent left and the mages bringing about our destruction just as the lines bring us together.”

  He joined her by the window. His power emanated from him like waves of velvet, wrapping around her, caressing. “Am I supposed to see the end times and not know what it’s like to be with you?” he asked, his voice like an evening breeze.

  “Alaric—”

  “Kaila, do you love me?”

  She studied his face, the endless depths of his midnight eyes. These times were rare lately, when they didn’t talk about the next battle or an upcoming council—when he didn’t treat her like a child and she didn’t feel the need to push her boundaries. He was gentle, almost shy. He was made up of dreams and starlight and barely whispered promises.

  Alaric closed the space between them, and slipped his hand through her hair. He pulled her face towards his, and she felt the cool rush of night as he kissed her. His lips were desperate, persistent, passionate. She placed her hands on his shoulders, intending to push him away, but instead succumbed to his touch.

  SEVEN

  “It’s a good thing this place is clean, boy,” Elder said under his breath. “Where were you this afternoon?”

  “Looking for manuscripts in the storage room,” Aren said, feeling a chill in his veins as he recalled the semi-charred, soot-covered items hidden behind the tiny door that Selina had opened. He pushed the images out of his head, then parted the heavy midnight-blue draperies that separated the second floor of the Library from the balcony that faced out from the front of the House. Elder narrowed his eyes, then stepped onto the balcony, joining Counselor Helmun. Vir stood next to Aren, peering through a gap in the drapes. Even with the heavy silk and velvet muting the noise from outside, they could still hear the chants from the growing crowds, demanding that Vir do something about the monster and the recent string of deaths.

  “They wouldn’t carry on like this if I was out there,” Vir grumbled.

  It had been decided that Vir was in no condition to address his people. He had the complexion of a dead fish, with hollow eyes to match, and he could barely finish a sentence before coughing fits seized him. The people needed to see the strength and power of Tiede, and Vir was far from inhabiting his ruling persona at the moment. Counselor Darc, the next best choice to represent the House, was needed in a meeting with the elite Hunters and high-ranking army officers. His logic and tactical thinking were best put to use trying to get a handle on the mage and monster situation. That left the softer, slower Helmun to address Tiede, as his rank held prestige even if his stature didn’t inspire. His wife, Saris, was invited for the occasion, and she was more than happy to provide company to Geyle while ogling Aren.

  “Any more visions from the girl?” Vir asked, taking a seat near his wife. He leaned his head back as if it took too much effort to hold it up.

  “None, my Lord,” Crina said. She stood close to where Geyle and Saris were sitting. Her gauzy white gown billowed in a wayward breeze, and she brushed a hand against her midnight-blue sash. “We are still unnerved by Selina’s visions of Trum.”

  Vir frowned. “She couldn’t have known the extent of what was going on in Trum. No one aside from our Illitheien guests, Elder, and me knew the details reported by Illithe’s scouts.”

  “Do you know if anyone in the House survived?” Crina asked.

  Aren glanced at Illithe Kente, who was being swallowed up in a chair by the wall, quiet and content to be a part of the hubbub. Valine took up a seat next to him, staring at the draperies as if she could see past them to the people yelling outside of the gates.

  “The House was surrounded at the time of the report, and our scouts had to retreat,” Valine said without turning away from the drapes.

  “So there mustn’t be any survivors,” Saris said, clutching at the gold and emerald pendant hanging from her neck. “The House is lost.”

  The conclusion didn’t sit well with Aren, and he imagined the House of Trum, its protective stone walls, the battlements and high towers. He imagined an army of mages around the ancient House. “There must be survivors, otherwise the mages would be inside the House, not surrounding it,” Aren blurted out. All eyes turned to him, and he wondered if there might be some sort of herbal remedy to keep his mouth shut. He thought about slipping out onto the balcony to face the
angry mob, instead of having Vir reprimand him for his insolence in front of his guests. “If I were in the House of Trum, I would try to get the House Lord and his family to safety,” Aren said, hoping it would soften the impact of his outburst.

  “That’s very noble of you,” Crina said, a smirk on her elegant face. Aren wasn’t sure if she was mocking him or being dismissive.

  Illithe Kente laughed to himself, and Valine squeezed his hand to calm him. “How will you save us?” Kente asked in his paper-thin voice.

  Vir coughed, and the servant girl with her hair tied up in a black ribbon hurried to bring him a glass of water. She glanced at Aren, then blushed deep red before rushing away. Aren wished he could leave with her.

  “Even if there are survivors there would be no way out,” Crina said. “It’s just a matter of time.”

  “They could go under,” Aren said before he could stop himself.

  Vir took a drink of water, then said, “Would you dig a hole, Apprentice?”

  Damn it all to Aum. Why did they have to be in the Library? This was his sacred space, the one place he was free to speak his mind because only Elder was ever there to hear him. Aren let out a nervous laugh, backing into the draperies. “Not a hole, my Lord. I’d look for an underground passage.”

  “Is that so?” Vir set down his glass.

  “The Eighth Lord, Trum Pernius, was rumored to be a licentious man. I’ve found old journals that tell of how he visited brothels, favored the more aggressive sexual practices of Kaishar.” Aren wondered if his ability to say all the wrong things was a result of not being blessed by the gods. He had to say something to cover up his inappropriate rambling. “Not that I would know about such things.”

  Saris giggled behind her hand, and Crina looked as though she wanted to stab him in the forehead. Aren wished she would. Kente was laughing and wheezing so hard, Aren hoped the old man wouldn’t wet himself.

  “Elder read some of Trum’s history to me when I was young,” Vir said. “Lord Pernius hated to be alone and never left the House unattended.”

  “That’s true,” Aren said, puzzling the pieces of history. “So if you’re trapped in that House with mages outside trying to kill you, wouldn’t you grasp at the old rumor? Your life is on the line, and your only hope is that Lord Pernius used secret passages to get in and out of the House without being noticed.”

  “Let’s imagine for a moment that whoever is trapped in the House manages to escape. Then what?” Vir asked, his tone daring.

  “If the surrounding farms and villages didn’t get sacked, it shouldn’t be difficult to find horses. I’d choose Syrn for refuge first, especially if I have Priestesses. My second option would be Illithe.”

  “Why not Thell?” Vir’s voice was raspy and dry. “It’s closer.”

  Aren wanted to clear his throat, but swallowed instead. “If the mages are serious, Thell would be the next sensible target. You’d be escaping Trum to go through the whole ordeal all over again.”

  No one spoke, and the pained look on Geyle’s face told Aren that he should learn to control his tongue. Now would be a good time for one of his skull-piercing headaches that caused nosebleeds. Then Aren could blame illness.

  The drapes parted, and Elder stepped into the Library. His brows were furrowed, his frown long. He clutched at his staff as if he were ready to take someone’s head off, and Aren took a step away from him. “They aren’t listening,” Elder said, referring to the crowd outside. “They want their Lord or no one at all.”

  “This is a farce,” Vir growled. “What shall I do? Cough up a lung for them to ponder?”

  Aren’s mouth opened before he could stop himself. “What about Lady Geyle?” he asked. All eyes turned to look at him, and he was quite sure that even the servants were wondering what had come over him. He tried to smile, felt like a clown, then cleared his throat and said, “Tiede has always had a soft spot for her Lady.” Geyle shook her head a little as if the motion would stop him from continuing. A nervous laugh escaped him, and he said, “Not singular as in just Lady Geyle. Ladies. All of them. Of the House, rather. The history of.” Did he just sound like he was reading one of his indices? “Ladies of Tiede. A reputable account, not a squalid…”

  Aren considered excusing himself, wondered if he could make himself vomit on the spot to prove he was sick, but Vir held up a hand and said, his voice almost surreal in its patience, “Apprentice, start again.”

  The servant girl with the black ribbon appeared at his elbow and handed him a glass of water before disappearing. Aren was sure he was hallucinating, but took a drink before setting down the glass. “The Lords of Tiede have always been a symbol of great power, but if you really study Tiede, you’ll notice the Lady holds a revered spot in the hearts of the people.” Aren steadied his breathing, focused on the books, the tone and message behind and between the words. “The Lord Tiede protects his people, but the Lady Tiede nurtures them. In no other House is the symbolism of father and mother so clear as it is in Tiede.” He took a few steps towards Geyle to address her. “We talked of how Tiede celebrated your marriage, how grand the parties were, and how welcome you felt when you arrived.” He turned back to Vir. “The accounts I’ve read of your mother, Lady Elleina—she was adored by everyone.”

  “You believe that these angry people will be still for a woman?” Vir asked.

  “What would it hurt? To see Lady Tiede is to know that all is well. She hasn’t been hidden away for her safety, and therefore there’s no reason for anyone to panic,” Aren countered.

  Geyle stood up, twisting at her sapphire ring. “Apprentice, speaking of Lady Elleina is one thing, but…”

  Valine stared at Geyle with cold, stone-gray eyes. “My sister was regal, beautiful, and had a heart big enough to love Tiede more than she might have loved Illithe. You are right to doubt your ability to achieve what she did.”

  Geyle cast her eyes down and was about to sit, but Aren took her hands in his and had her take a step towards him. “I didn’t have the honor of knowing Lady Elleina, but all you have to do is open a book on Tiede or walk through this House and see her portraits. She is the pinnacle of what Lady Tiede is expected to be, and how difficult that you should be the one to have to follow her,” Aren said, his tone soft and kind. “But you also have the potential to love this House as much as you love your Lord husband. The people need to see you.”

  “Do you think so?” she breathed, her glossy blue eyes gazing at him as if under his spell.

  He studied her for a moment, her hair braided and crowning her head, woven through with a string of creamy pearls and silver stars. Her dress was high-collared and covered her shoulders, and therefore the marks. “Yes.” He passed her hand to Elder. “And so well suited you are, dressed in Tiede’s midnight blue.” The only thing more perfect would be if you were swollen with child to give Tiede hope of an heir.

  Elder stared hard at Aren, then looked at Vir, who nodded. Elder patted Geyle’s hand, then said, “If the people quiet down long enough, I will tell you what to say.”

  Geyle nodded, cast one last look at Aren, then allowed Elder to lead her out onto the balcony. The roar of the crowd intensified when the drapes were pulled back, and Aren clenched his fists with fear, feeling the gravity of his actions hit him like a splash of cold water after a night of drinking with Dane. As Aren made a show of smoothing the drapes, he wondered what had possessed him to do and say the things he did. Perhaps now would be a good time to vomit. His gut was knotted enough to make him sick.

  The gears in the Library clock rotated in their measured way—soft, rhythmic clicks mocking the erratic beating of Aren’s heart. Vir looked at him as if waiting for an apology or an excuse. Aren blinked, feeling the sweat gather at his hairline.

  Silence.

  All eyes turned towards the balcony as if they could see through the drapes that divided them, as if they could see Geyle in her long midnight gown with her hands folded before her.

  Silence. Then, her
voice.

  “My dear people,” she said, gaining strength and volume with each word, “I thank you for your patience, as I have been trying to find the right words to say. Then I realized that all I need tell you is what is true. My beloved Lord husband cannot speak to you as he had hoped. He has been working tirelessly, seeking a way to be rid of this terror that threatens us all. He has worked himself ill, yet pushes on because of his love for this House.” She paused, and Aren wondered how much of the message was coming from Elder. “All I ask is that you listen…”

  Aren felt every muscle in his body relax. He was pushing his luck these days.

  Kente chuckled in his chair, tears rolling down his eyes. “That’s a poppy,” he wheezed.

  Then a thundering boom shook the House, and the people began to scream.

  EIGHT

  The Hunters worked with a precision that Aren envied. They were levelheaded, quick, and focused. They were separate from each other, yet they moved as if they shared a collective mind, anticipating one another’s moves, not questioning the decisions made but reacting to each action in a way that propelled them towards the end goal. One Hunter moved Kente, Valine, Elder, and Helmun and his wife to a well-protected corner of the second floor of the Library, away from the balcony, which a Guard promptly secured. Two other Hunters took Crina and Geyle, setting off with them towards another part of the House. The servants were told to scatter and hide.

  “Lord Vir, please come with us,” a Hunter with silver hair said, then faced Aren. “Apprentice, you can stay here or—”

  “Hunter Tenley, he can come with me.” Aren turned to see Gryf accompanied by Dane. Gryf addressed the Hunter as he handed Aren a sword. “He’s fought the monster where the rest of us have not, so he’ll be useful in tracking it down. Hunter Illana agrees.”

  “Monster?” Vir frowned. “In my House?”

  “Yes, my Lord,” Tenley said. “We need to secure you right away. We’ve already secured the Priestesses.”

  Vir growled deep in his throat, then turned on his heel with Tenley and two others escorting him.