The Temple of Ardyn

by Tameri Etherton

  “Would you take up the challenge, brother? Is my crown not enough for your ambitions?” The sting of his words cut too close to the truths he’d been denying.

  “I never wanted your crown. Still do not, if the truth be told. But since you are incapable of sitting on the Weirren throne, it is my duty to fulfill the obligation.

  “As for Taryn, she deserves the promise of who you once were. Before you were broken. You can sit around and feel sorry for yourself as long as you like, but there is a girl out there who is fighting for all that you used to believe in. She is fighting for a future she herself does not quite comprehend. And she is doing it alone.”

  “She has Kaida with her.”

  Bressal scoffed. “A grierbas pup cannot give her the support and comfort of her betrothed.”

  The air left him as if he’d been punched in the gut. It was the truth he’d been denying himself and could run from no longer. “At the ceremony you saw into my soul as well. You know what I did.”

  “Showed her mercy, to be sure. I would have killed her.” Bressal’s flat tone left little doubt he would have.

  “If I had not known her since childhood, perhaps. We were friends, Bressal, practically like brother and sister, and she knew how best to destroy me. And Taryn. She used us and to what purpose? How could I have been so blind?”

  “That is a good question, but what I would like to know is, why are you continuing this idiocy?”

  “You go too far.” Rhoane’s voice held an edge to it, but Bressal ignored it.

  “This did not destroy the Darennsai. Taryn survived and from what I am seeing beside me, it looks like you will too. It is your choice now.”

  “Choice?” Rhoane scoffed at the word. Had he or Taryn really ever had a choice?

  “Think, man!” Bressal continued, ignoring Rhoane’s cynicism. “You are a prince of Eleri blood. Will you stay here and fade, letting that Aelan woman control your destiny? Have you lost your will to fight for what is right? If you remain, surely those who sought to destroy everything you believe in will win and they will not stop at one Eleri prince.”

  Some of his old connection with his brother welled inside him, comforting, challenging. “I appreciate your advice. It has been too long since we have agreed on anything.”

  Bressal smirked. “I am just as surprised as you.”

  THE great city of Talaith lay before him. Prince Rhoane of the Eleri,Surtentse and betrothed to the Child of Light and Dark, sat on his horse, looking across the vast city to the Crystal Palace. The afternoon sun sparkled on the tiles, giving truth to the name. That first glimpse of the palace never ceased to fill him with wonder. It truly was enchanted. He took a deep breath and moved Fayngaar into a gentle walk.

  He’d ridden south the very day Taryn left the vier. The ride had been filled with silence and an overwhelming desire to be with the woman he’d let go. It took less than a fortnight to travel the great distance, with one night spent in Paderau, where he learned of the Shadow Assassin’s escape from Lliandra’s dungeons. The demon had disappeared without anyone suspecting he was gone and someone—a Master capable of knocking out several armed guards who themselves wielded considerable ShantiMari—had helped. Rhoane had demanded they set off to retrieve Taryn from Caer Idris, but Anje tempered caution.

  If Rhoane raced across Aelinae to rescue the princess, he might draw the sort of attention Taryn wished to avoid. Anje hadn’t come straight out and said the words, but his irritation was quite evident that Rhoane had allowed Taryn to travel alone, even going so far as to accuse the Eleri prince of abandoning her.

  Rhoane hadn’t argued with the duke. In a way, he had forsaken her, much to his eternal shame.

  He shoved his feelings for Taryn to the far reaches of his thoughts, as he had many times on the ride south. It would do no good to think of what he’d put her through without any sort of recourse to make it right.

  She was alive; hiscynfar told him as much. Beyond that, he locked himself out of her emotions. He removed his glove to inspect the runes yet again. The pictures remained where they’d been that morning. At the very least, Taryn remained bound to him. Whether she would want to undo their oaths was another matter entirely and not one he wished to dwell upon.

  He passed through the city gates and into the palace grounds without a glance from the citizens. To them, he was just another traveler from one far-flung land or another, unimportant in their lives.

  He patted Fayngaar’s neck with silent resolution. Whatever waited for him in the palace, he had to face it with the courage and dignity befitting an Eleri prince.

  Baehlon found Rhoane in his rooms and was not surprised to learn Taryn had not accompanied him from the vier. Rhoane told him a brief version of their stay at Gaarendahl and of their time in the Narthvier. He told his friend what Marissa had done and Taryn’s response.

  The giant knight scratched at his chin for a long time. The bells in his braids chimed softly in time to the rough skritch-skritch of nail against stubble. Of all the Fadair Rhoane knew, Baehlon he’d known the longest. The man never gave the same age, but Rhoane met him sixty-two seasons past, when he was already a knight in Lliandra’s guard. If he had to guess, he’d put Baehlon’s age somewhere close to one hundred seasons, but the Danuri aged unlike other Fadair, so one could never tell.

  “Will you spend all evening in the company of your beard, or would you like to continue the conversation?” Rhoane chided when the knight appeared lost in thought.

  “It depends if you’d like to hear what I was thinking.” The scratching stopped and Baehlon sat up straight, his hands splayed across his knees. “Daknys warned her something like this would happen.”

  Rhoane glared at his friend. “What are you saying? Taryn knew?”

  “Not entirely. Daknys said only that Taryn would be betrayed and wish to die, but if she could survive it, then she would be stronger for it,” Baehlon explained. “It was while we were in Celyn Eryri.”

  “Why did you not tell me?”

  “Taryn bade me not. She didn’t know whether the harm would be to you or someone else. This was after the attack on Ellie, and she was concerned for all she loved.” Baehlon nodded, breathing heavily through his nose. “I think she knew it would be against you.”

  “I have failed her, Baehlon,” Rhoane whispered.

  “Did she say that?”

  “Never. She took me into her body to share in my shame. She could have killed Marissa, but she did not. She could have left me behind, but she showed me compassion when I deserved none.”

  “She acts from the heart.” It was not a compliment. “She is too innocent for her own good.”

  “Aye, that she is. And now she is with her father and probably Zakael. I was wrong to let her go to Gaarendahl and then did nothing to stop her from going to Caer Idris.”

  “Taryn needs to learn to make her own way. She will come out of this with the maturity and knowledge she needs to fulfill her destiny. If you’d gone, she would have been split in her desire to please you and to take what she can from her father. You have not failed her. You’ve allowed her the freedom she needs to grow.” Baehlon put his big hand on Rhoane’s shoulder. “Exactly how long do you plan to feel sorry for yourself?”

  Rhoane’s head snapped up. “You dare?”

  “Aye, I do,” Baehlon said. “Much has happened since last we met and I need you with all your faculties. If your brain’s muddled with thoughts of despair, you’re no good to me.”

  Rhoane twitched in annoyance. Damn it all, but the man was right. He had to put thoughts of Taryn aside and focus. “What has happened?”

  “Once Carga alerted me to where Taryn had gone, I sent Ebus to watch over her.” He looked pointedly at Rhoane. “At least your sister thought we might like to know how you fared.”

  Rhoane accepted the criticism. “And the Shadow Assassin? Has there been any news?”

  “None. Whoever released him from Celyn Eryri’s dungeons has substantial power. They k
nocked out a dozen guards and unraveled the bonds holding the prisoner. Before we even had an inkling the assassin had escaped, they were in the wind. Fortunately, he hasn’t been seen since.”

  That gave Rhoane little comfort. His worst fears were the assassin followed Taryn to Caer Idris. His gut told him neither Valterys nor Zakael controlled the man, but he couldn’t be certain.

  “And the others? How is Taryn’s maid, Ellie?”

  Baehlon gave a brief account of Ellie’s progress, and then caught Rhoane up on the business that transpired in his absence. Marissa had returned to Talaith before the rest of the court and kept to her rooms. She complained of a wound that would not heal. Even Faelara’s skill couldn’t keep the cut from weeping. Rhoane paid little attention to Marissa’s concerns—she deserved whatever discomfort she suffered.

  “Young Hayden’s been busy with the spice merchant and that miscreant spy at the docks. You should meet with him regarding his plans. Fancies himself a bit of a spy, himself.” A dark brow rose above an almond-shaped eye and Baehlon grinned. “Not half bad, but if he gets himself killed, Anje will be none too happy.”

  “I will speak with him.” The pressures of court life settled around him like a Wintertide cloak: heavy, worn, not uncomfortable, but not quite welcome either.

  The conversation drifted to Faelara and Baehlon’s countenance altered. Barely perceptible, he sat straighter, his shoulders flexed as if ready to defend. Rhoane hid a smile. Something had shifted in their relationship. Finally.

  Baehlon gave nothing away, but when he stood to leave, there was a softness in the knight’s eyes when he said, “Seek out Taryn’s guard, Carina. If Taryn is in the Northwest, let her be seen with you here, in Talaith. Never had I met a guard more loving or more loyal than that lass. Than all of Taryn’s maids, to be sure. Visit with Ellie, too. She would like to know her mistress is safe. Even if you have to lie, give her hope. That’s what they need right now.”

  Hope. Yes, they all needed hope. Taryn was his symbol of hope. All of theirs, really. He’d do as Baehlon suggested, but first he wished to see another old friend before seeking out the empress.

  Myrddin was in his tower, tinkering with jars of goo and bits of fluff. To Rhoane’s relief, they talked about Gaarendahl only briefly. Something stayed his tongue from confessing what Marissa had done, saying only there had been a disagreement between the sisters. Of their disappearance, Rhoane told Myrddin they went to the Narthvier to see how Carga fared after her purification and to search the Weirren’s library for information. As to Taryn’s location now, he told Myrddin the truth. She was on her way to Caer Idris to see her father.

  The mage paused in his fiddling, his stern gaze boring into Rhoane. “Alone?”

  “It is for the best.” Another lie amongst the many he’d already told that day.

  “Do you truly believe that?”

  “You and I both know Taryn must becomeDarennsai without being fettered to me.”

  Myrddin’s scowl softened into a fatherly sort of sad little smile. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. She loves you far too much, young prince. She places that love above Aelinae and that might destroy her. Destroy Aelinae.”

  “I know.” The words were little more than a whisper. It was his darkest fear. His greatest desire. His guilt. He craved that love even though he knew it was wrong.

  “And the assassin? You’ve heard nothing? Seen nothing?” Anxiety rippled beneath Myrddin’s tone. The man worried for Taryn. They all did, but the mage rarely showed his emotions.

  “Nothing. I will search the city, but I doubt we will find him here.” Rhoane lifted his chin toward the north. “He is resting. Taryn’s ShantiMari damaged him and he needs to recover. I do not doubt we will see him again, but not so soon. Our danger lies farther to the west, I am afraid.”

  “Valterys,” Myrddin intoned.

  “Aye. May the gods watch over Taryn while she is there.”

  “At least she’ll have someone watching over her.”

  Rhoane left Myrddin’s tower a short while later after several more not so subtle hints he disagreed with Rhoane leaving Taryn on her own.

  To Lliandra, he repeated his story with little added information. The empress was livid to learn of Taryn’s whereabouts. She held Rhoane personally responsible if anything happened to her daughter. Rhoane took the blame Lliandra thrust at him. He was the reason Taryn went off alone, but he couldn’t tell her mother why.

  Lliandra leaned close, saying in a low voice, “What happened at Gaarendahl? Marissa has not been the same since we returned from Celyn Eryri. She will not speak of anything having to do with Taryn or yourself. Was there a quarrel between my daughters?”

  Rhoane breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure how to explain to Lliandra Marissa had raped him while Taryn watched. If Marissa said nothing, then he would do the same. Instead, he told her a different truth. “I believe Zakael’s intentions went beyond Marissa’s tolerance. He refused to teach Taryn anything having to do with the power and on several occasions hinted of a different liaison, of which Taryn had no interest.”

  “You say Taryn denied Zakael?”

  “Yes, completely.”

  “Then there is no harm done. Marissa needs to forgive her sister and get back to the business of Aelinae.” She stood and Rhoane followed suit. “Thank you, Prince Rhoane, for coming to see me. I hope you will stay in Talaith for a while.” She held out her hand for him to kiss.

  The empress had not entirely confirmed she knew of Marissa’s relationship with Zakael, but she left Rhoane with little doubt. Marissa was of keen intellect and strong in the power, but it was her body she used best as a weapon.

  The memory of her beneath him, a sick, triumphant leer marring her features, flashed vivid in his mind and he reeled, his stomach clenching. She had once been like a sister to him but now—now he despised her. Despised the very thought of what she had done to him all in the name of power. Zakael as well. For if he hated Marissa, he had to hate Zakael equally for his part in the scheme. They were Taryn’s half-siblings, yet blood meant nothing to them. Power and lust were what they honored above all.

  Until Gaarendahl, Rhoane would never have thought Marissa capable of great cruelty, but he’d always known Zakael took perverse pleasure in being vicious.

  Taryn’s half-brother kept his proclivities well hidden, but Rhoane had been at court the day Lliandra miscarried Zakael’s child. He witnessed firsthand Zakael, wild with grief and madness, almost kill the empress. Others in the palace blamed his action on the loss of his son, but there was a glee in his violence that chilled Rhoane.

  Zakael vowed revenge on Lliandra’s House that day and to Rhoane’s mind, was making good on his promise. For many seasons, Zakael was warded from entering Talaith, but with Taryn’s return, Lliandra lifted the restriction.

  Rhoane would never understand the Fadair and their habit of mating with whomever they wished. There was no honor in bedding first the father, and then the son, but Rhoane suspected the empress cared less about honor and more about the bloodline of her children. If she could make the Eirielle with Valterys, then certainly her reasoning was she could do it again with Zakael. Most likely, she was using her daughter in much the same way.

  And he’d let Taryn travel alone to Caer Idris where Valterys, and probably Zakael, waited. The idea burned through him that Lliandra meant to use Taryn as well, but Rhoane tamped it out. Lliandra was devious, but she’d not subject Taryn to the same abuses she and Marissa enjoyed.

  Taryn was not like them. Rhoane held to that truth with every fiber of his being. Taryn was good and kind. She would never submit to the same level of vileness like others of her family.

  After an exhausting evening of telling the same lies to each of Taryn’s friends, Rhoane said his farewells, wanting nothing more than to lock himself in his study with a carafe of his favorite dreem.

  Hayden, unfortunately, had other plans. “Rhoane, a word?” He beckoned to a tapestry and disappeared behind i
t. Rhoane followed with a grunt of disapproval.

  “I spoke to the mercenary we met in Celyn Eryri, Baehlon’s brother,” Hayden began. “He is working for the empress, patrolling the docks, but he is not what he seems.”

  “Why are we in a cramped corridor for you to tell me this?”

  “I don’t want Baehlon to know we’ve been in contact. There is a family feud between the two, and I don’t want him getting in the way of my investigation.”

  “You have my silence.”

  “As I said, I’ve been communicating with Denzil as well as Amanda, the girl I told you about. She and her mother work for Adesh.” At Rhoane’s prompt, he continued, “They are readying a shipment to sail within a fortnight and I thought I should go aboard, undercover.”

  “Impossible. You are a courtier, Hayden, not a spy. Why not send Ebus?” But of course they couldn’t; he was in Caer Idris protecting Taryn. Where Rhoane should be.

  “He’s not in Talaith. Didn’t you know?”

  “Yes, I forgot momentarily.” The day had been too long and his thoughts were muddled with exhaustion.

  “I just wanted you to know. In case…” He paused, a note of apprehension in his voice. “In case you need to tell my father.”

  “You will not be sailing on that ship, Hayden. I will go. Or Baehlon. Not you.” Hayden opened his mouth to speak, but Rhoane silenced him with a hard glare. Before he could argue further, Rhoane left the small space and strode to his rooms, fuming at the idiocy of some people.

  Hayden was just a lad. Barely able to take care of himself. Rhoane stopped short at his door, shaking his head. Hayden was the same age as Taryn. And yet she carried herself with the grace and wisdom of someone much older. The thought saddened him. When she first arrived on Aelinae, she’d been full of youth and carefree. Too often of late, he saw the misery in her eyes, the responsibility that dragged her down.