The Temple of Ardyn

by Tameri Etherton

  Her mother had the worst timing and she was in no mood to be scolded yet again by the empress.

  “Unless you want a royal lecture, we should make like Ebus and disappear,” Taryn joked.

  “But we have neither the skill nor knowledge of how he did so.” If not for the sincerity in his voice, Taryn would’ve laughed.

  “We’ll talk about that later. Let’s go.” They ducked under the sargot trees, bereft of their delicious fruit in the chill weather, and managed to avoid her mother by entering the palace on the far side of the garden. At the entrance to the great room, Baehlon intercepted them and Taryn steeled herself for his reprimand.

  “Faelara would like to see you, Rhoane. She wants to discuss Taryn’s lesson for this evening.” His almond-shaped eyes were like slivers of burnt cedar as he glowered at her. “If the princess wouldn’t mind, I would like to know what transpired on the docks this morning.”

  Taryn refrained from rolling her eyes, but she did cast him a baleful glance. He didn’t have to make everything a bigger deal than it was, and yet he did.

  “Actually, I have some information you might find fascinating. Give me about a bell, and then I’ll meet you at Faelara’s and share what I learned on my outing.” She pivoted toward the library. “Ask Hayden and Sabina to join us.”

  Rhoane caught her hand. “You will not leave the palace again?” The fear lurking in the depths of his eyes cut her heart and she staggered at the realization she had to stop thinking only of herself and remember he cared for her. The wounds of the past few months were slow to heal.

  “I promise.” Her lips brushed his and even that slight touch inflamed her blood. His ShantiMari slipped up her arms, caressing her, and she fought off the desire to skip the meeting and take Rhoane to her rooms. Again she hesitated. They had yet to share their bodies and Taryn was to blame. Damn her apprehension and fear of her own power. “I’m going to the library, that’s all.”

  He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and grazed the tip of her ear. Her uncontrolled shiver brought a smile to his lips, but concern remained in his steady gaze. “Would you like me to accompany you?”

  “I would, but Faelara is waiting and I won’t be long. Go. I’ll join you soon.” She pushed his chest playfully and he relented.

  Kaida trotted at her side, with Carina and Timor following a few paces behind. Despite their closeness, Taryn was alone. Vulnerable. The Shadow Assassin was in the city and no one could keep her safe.

  Chapter 3

  THE storm that threatened all morning finally broke, sending a deluge of rain cascading down the library’s thick glass windows, casting eerie shadows in the already darkened room. The familiar scent of musty books greeted Taryn when she entered the small space she’d once claimed as her own. Scrolls and scraps of paper no longer littered the large table she’d used as a desk. All of her quills and ink jars now sat on the desk in her rooms. She missed the quiet of the library but required the privacy and security of her apartments.

  She ignored the pang of longing and searched the stacks for a scroll she remembered from a previous search, trying to recall if the parchment was in the library or Tessa’s hidden stash. The morning of the attack at the Stones, Tessa had proved to be an asset. While the others were away, she’d snuck into Celia’s rooms and removed most of the documents the girl had taken from the library, cleverly hiding them in a trunk at the back of her dressing room.

  Tessa’s quick thinking had secured the documents; later that afternoon, Lliandra had Celia’s rooms emptied and her personal items packed and given away—to whom, Taryn didn’t know. By the following morning, it was as if Celia had never existed. Every scrap of paper was taken to the library, where they were dutifully catalogued and returned to the stacks.

  Before the empress sent Herbret’s belongings to his family south of Talaith, Tessa searched his rooms as well and found a curious dagger she placed amongst the papers. Much later, after the funerals and feasts, Tessa shared with the others what she’d discovered. Eliahnna spent bells copying the texts before she and Taryn returned the scrolls to the library. The copies she hid in her rooms, where she could read them at her leisure. She needed to understand what prompted two of Lliandra’s courtiers to commit such a heinous act of treason.

  With Myrddin out of town, Rhoane took the dagger for further study. Ancient, with etchings on the blade similar to the Seal of Ardyn and Taryn’s sword, he suspected there was more to the dagger than it simply being a weapon.

  Learn the words had echoed in her mind when she held the dagger.

  “Learn the words,” Taryn said aloud to the empty room. “That’s what I’m trying to do, you fickle gods.”

  Her hand hovered above a shelf as she scanned her memory for what Tessa had taken from Celia’s rooms. Confident the item she sought was not there, she resumed her search amidst the dusty papers.

  Once found, she returned to her rooms and tossed the scroll on her desk. Several hastily scrawled notes she’d written to herself lay atop a stack of parchments she’d been meaning to read. The list never got shorter, always longer.

  She sat at her desk and carefully unrolled the first paper. As she read, she made several notations on a blank sheet. Only after reviewing her notes did she realize she’d written in English. Even after more than four months in this new world, it was a hard habit to break.

  Frustrated, she threw the quill on the table and rubbed her eyes. The meeting with the others was in a few minutes and she was no closer to understanding how the assassin manipulated shadows than she’d been a bell earlier. If it was a trick of the Dark, Duke Anje would’ve told her about it. Or perhaps not. He claimed to be too long in the Light to remember much. But surely Hayden would know. Then again, maybe not. He was, after all, raised by Anje and Gwyneira at the Light Court.

  Myrddin might know, but he was off on an errand for the empress. To date, she’d not consulted with him, for no other reason than pride. Myrddin’s quiet confidence intimidated her. Once he returned, she’d seek him out, explain everything she’d learned and beg him to help. He claimed his ShantiMari was too antiquated for what she required, which was probably true, but a man who had lived as long as he had would surely know something, anything.

  She rubbed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. No amount of Myrddin’s help, or anyone else’s, could hide the fact she needed a high-ranking noble who understood all the facets of Dark ShantiMari intimately. She needed her brother or father.

  Even though Rhoane agreed she should seek them out, Taryn stalled. The letters asking permission to visit sat on her desk, unsent. She couldn’t bring herself to send them, even though it was the only way to unlock all of her powers. Her arguments were many and varied, but all centered around a common theme—Zakael and Valterys frightened her far more than the Shadow Assassin ever had.

  For all she knew, they were behind the demon trying to kill her.

  If she went to them unprepared, she’d be unable to stop them from overpowering her and using her for only the gods knew what.

  Her hand shook as she raised a cup of tea to her lips. The altercation at the Stones of Kaldaar had left her changed. Not necessarily in a good way. The dark cold never left her. Even wrapped in a fur blanket and sitting in front of a fire, a tiny chill spread from her heart to her thoughts. It was infinite, the blackness inside her. As expansive as the void.

  “Your Highness?” Ellie stood beside her, a warm hand on Taryn’s arm. “It’s time for your meeting.”

  Taryn shook the gloomy thoughts from her mind and forced a smile. “Yes, it is.” She placed her hand over the girl’s and the small amount of ShantiMari Ellie had vibrated beneath her touch. Ellie’s power was slight but fierce. On impulse, Taryn rose and kissed the girl’s cheek. “Thank you, Ellie.”

  The maid blushed a furious shade of crimson, a confused smile on her lips. “For what?”

  “For believing in me.”

  It was Ellie who made Taryn see that being the Eirielle
was more than just an obligation. On that day, so long ago it seemed now, when Taryn was given the title Keeper of the Stars and Nadra had placed the elaborate moonstone and stardust crown on Taryn’s head, Ellie had confided in Taryn that in all the world, there was no one finer to wear the mantle.

  Taryn hadn’t believed in herself that day, nor for many days after. Not until Sabina’s life was threatened did Taryn start to truly believe she could be what Aelinae expected of her. But doubts continued to dog her confidence.

  “Always, my lady.” Ellie curtseyed low to the ground before rising slowly to kiss her thumb and place it over her heart.

  “I won’t be long. Let Kaida rest. If the rain lets up, will you take her outside?”

  “Of course.” Kaida lay snoring on a thick rug in front of the fire, her paws twitching with her dreams, and Taryn couldn’t bring herself to disturb the grierbas. “Be safe.”

  Ellie’s words haunted Taryn as she hurried to Faelara’s apartments. How could she be safe in a world where people could appear and disappear on command? When she was hunted by an unseen demon controlled by someone who, at that very moment, might be within a hand’s reach of her?

  “You look as foul-tempered as the weather. What has you so despondent, my sister?” Marissa’s cheery tone did nothing to alleviate Taryn’s mood. To date, she’d managed to avoid her older sister, but like her trip West, knew it couldn’t be postponed forever.

  “Marissa,” Taryn drawled, her quick gaze taking in the group of women twittering behind the crown princess, “you’re positively glowing. Your visit with Tessa and Eliahnna must’ve done you good.”

  A minute frown tugged her sister’s lips toward the ground for just a moment before Marissa recovered. “Yes, you were missed. I do hope you’ll come visit sometime soon. We really should be allies, my darling.” She grasped Taryn’s hands and squeezed a little too hard. “We’ve so much in common, you and I. Please say you will.”

  Marissa’s ShantiMari was off. The same calculated coolness she’d felt numerous times before was hampered by an entity Taryn couldn’t quite define. The persistent chill spread through her, but it came from Marissa’s grasp. Shocked, Taryn realized the phantom had touched Marissa as surely as he’d afflicted her. The sword sang softly in her mind, its dulcet tones those of mourning.

  Since the encounter at the Stones, her sword had yet to sing a joyful tune. Most days Taryn tuned it out, but right then she listened carefully to the melody. Three words echoed in her thoughts—betrayal, darkness, forgiveness. The last gave Taryn pause. The sword urged her to forgive Marissa?

  “Yes, I will. Thank you.” Taryn leaned in to kiss her sister and breathed in the scent of her. Lilies and lye. Her lips touched Marissa’s cheek and her sister flinched. “I look forward to it.”

  Marissa clearly hadn’t expected Taryn to agree to a visit. She blustered to her ladies-in-waiting something about being late for an appointment and rushed off in the opposite direction. Taryn turned away from her sister’s hasty retreat to catch the wry smiles her guards tried to hide.

  Hayden and Sabina were waiting for her when she arrived at Faelara’s rooms. By the looks on their faces, they had been discussing her errand that morning and were not pleased. She sat through half a bell of recriminations not only from the pair, but Faelara and Baehlon as well. Rhoane stayed silent, having already voiced his displeasure that morning.

  “Fine. Okay,” Taryn said when she couldn’t take one more dramatic sigh or feigned snarl of anger, “I’m sorry I left the palace without alerting Baehlon. I won’t make that mistake again. Ever. But really, there are more important issues to discuss here. Like, what’s going on with the taxes on the Summerlands?”

  Sabina took the change of subject in stride. “From what I can discern, Lliandra’s not just taxing our goods, but Danuri’s goods as well. Although, not to the same extent. She has serious levies attached to spices, textiles, and lime coming from the Summerlands. Danuri is only being taxed on their liquid resources.”

  “What does the king have to say about the taxes?” Baehlon asked.

  “He has issued an edict to prevent Lliandra from charging more for our supplies, but she’s ignoring him. I’m not sure if this is punishment for my choosing Hayden over Herbret, or if she truly wants war, but my father will not ignore this blatant extortion.”

  Hayden sat with one leg resting atop the other, his long fingers stroking the beginnings of a beard. “I broached the topic in council this past week and was met with silence. What I don’t know is if the other members are aware of this illegal taxation, or if Lliandra is doing this on her own. I’ve tried to meet with several members, but they’re being cagey.”

  “What I’ve been able to uncover,” Sabina started with an apologetic look to Hayden, “is she’s granted a special dispensation to Ulla to trade with merchants from both Caer Idris and Haversham.”

  “What would the Artagh want with Ullan goods?” Faelara mused. “And why Valterys?”

  “Do you think they are forging an alliance? Perhaps the threat of Kaldaar’s return has Lliandra more frightened than she’d like to admit. These are his lands, after all, and he’s been gone a long time,” Taryn offered.

  “Nadra would never let him interfere with the Light Throne. No, there must be something in Caer Idris Lliandra needs. Same with Haversham, Danuri, and the Summerlands. Except she is trying to weaken the latter, but why?” Rhoane traced the runes on his hand, a frown pinching his brows dangerously close together.

  “Hayden, is there anyone on the council you trust?”

  Her cousin smirked at the question. “Not with my life, but there are a few who I’m sure I could compel into friendship if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  Sixteenth bells chimed and Faelara stood suddenly. “I must help the empress dress for dinner.” A glimmer of panic crossed her pretty features. “Since the Stones, she’s kept me on a short leash.” At Taryn’s hopeful look, she said, “No, darling, I can’t get any information from her. She barely speaks to me as it is, yet insists I be there to help with the preparations. I’m doing all I can to get back into her good graces in the hope we’ll learn something. Anything.”

  “I’m sorry, Faelara,” Taryn said with genuine concern. When Lliandra learned Faelara had known Taryn was researching Kaldaar and didn’t share the information with her, she’d been livid. At Taryn, at Faelara, at Rhoane, and even Baehlon. No one was spared her anger. But it was Faelara who bore the brunt of the empress’s punishment. Lliandra effectively demoted her, making her duties on par with a servant most of the time; other times, she was little more than a lady-in-waiting.

  “Not to worry, my love. All will be well in time. If you’ll excuse me?” Faelara rushed from the room.

  When the door clicked shut, Taryn said to no one in particular, “Lliandra will pay for what she’s doing to Faelara. She was only trying to help.”

  “Yes, helpyou, Taryn, not the empress.” Sabina’s ShantiMari whizzed around her in a frenzy. A dark shadow lined the deep brown threads. Taryn stared at her friend’s Mari, an uncomfortable realization taking shape. “What is it, Taryn? You look like you’ve seen death himself.”

  “I just recalled I promised Marissa I would meet with her. Will you excuse me?” She said her goodbyes, giving hugs to Hayden and Baehlon, and a kiss to Rhoane. To Sabina, she whispered, “Come to my rooms after dinner. We need to talk.”

  Taryn hastened to Marissa’s rooms, turning over what she’d witnessed, an idea forming that excited and disturbed her. She arrived at the painted doors edged with real gold and knocked softly. When no one answered, she knocked again, louder. Even if Marissa were out, a maid should be present, but no one appeared. Taryn turned the ornate handle and pushed open the door several inches.

  “Hello?” she called out to the empty air. The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention, but her pendant and sword remained silent. Taking that as a good sign, she sidled into the room and closed the door behind her.


  In the sitting room, two of Marissa’s maids lay on the sofa, unmoving. Her heart bumped against her ribcage as she bent to check their pulses. She saw no obvious signs of trauma, but a telltale thread of Marissa’s ShantiMari hovered over them both. Her sister had put the maids to sleep on purpose, but why? Taryn had heard the rumors of what Marissa did with her ladies, the sexual exploits and games of pleasure. Surely there was nothing she had to hide from them.

  Her breath caught. Whatever Marissa was doing, if she wished to keep it from her maids, Taryn needed to know.

  She crept to her sister’s bedroom and listened for several moments before discerning it was empty. As she was about to leave, a moan came from the balcony. The curtains whipped against the open doors and Taryn padded through the lavishly decorated room. Golden candelabra and chandeliers held candles that glowed softly, illuminating the huge bed covered in stark white damask and framed by crimson velvet panels. An image of marble and blood assaulted Taryn, and she looked away.

  Marissa’s ShantiMari glinted from every surface, its lavender hue laced with inscriptions. Each time she focused on a thread, the image would fade, but she was certain words were woven into the powerful wards. Her hands twitched with a desire to touch the threads and she balled them into fists, keeping them close to her body.

  Marissa moaned again, louder, more urgently. Taryn hid behind the curtain and peered through a gap, suppressing a gasp at the sight before her.

  Her sister hovered above the floor, her naked skin dusted with a smattering of black glitter. Rain slashed through the air, battering the palace walls relentlessly, but Marissa was oblivious of the raging storm. A cocoon of ShantiMari enveloped her, protecting her from the wind and cold. She writhed in the empty air, her arms clasping at nothing, her leg hitched at an awkward angle.

  Vomit roiled in Taryn’s gut. She’d vanquished the phantom. It couldn’t possibly be the same one. And yet, if it wasn’t, that meant there was more than one. She blinked back tears and swallowed the acrid bile that rose in her throat. She squinted, focusing on a faint, barely perceptible outline of black amid the swirling motes of rain and glitter. The phantom, Taryn was certain of it. From her sister’s movements and the sounds of desire she made, they were having sex.