The Temple of Sacrifice

by Tameri Etherton

  “That, I cannot do. He is my love, my life. I will not give up on him!”

  “Trust in yourself, mi carae. Do what you need to strengthen your powers. Rhoane will benefit from this. Seek your father. You are ready.” She slipped through the wall, leaving Taryn seething at the empty air.

  A peculiar noise, like the shifting of leathery wings, came from just over her shoulder, but when she looked, the forest was as it had been. Leaves canopied beneath a blustery sky. Emerald fronds crowded the forest floor, bedecked with buds of white, red, blue, and yellow that resembled gems set upon a velvety lawn. Nothing was out of place and yet a disquiet nudged at her. A sense of something important she was forgetting.

  She rode away from the wall, frustrated with the Eleri. Not just them but everyone on Aelinae, including the gods. She peered through the branches, wishing Brandt were there to advise her. Never had she needed him more than she did right then. She took the moonstone from her pocket and kissed it. Guide me, Grandfather, for I am lost.

  Silence answered.

  Later that afternoon, Eoghan echoed Carga and Aislinn’s advice. He traced the runes on her wrist, his tricolored eyes, so similar to Verdaine’s, clouded with worry. “You must let him go,” he said. “He will return to you, but you must release him so he may find his way back.”

  It took her several days to gather the courage to seek out Rhoane. She slipped into his room and found him sitting at his desk, staring out the window. “Hey,” she said in a quiet voice.

  He looked up, surprise clear on his features, and, dare she hope, joy. But as quick as it came, it disappeared. Taryn stifled a gasp at his appearance. From his sunken cheeks and wild, frightened eyes, he looked to have been the one in a coma.

  “Taryn.” His voice, once so musical and full of life, scratched at her ears. He wavered for a moment before getting up to greet her. “You look well.” He kissed her cheek and then turned away to avoid seeing the tears in her eyes.

  “I have missed you.” It tore at her heart to see him broken. “Look,” she said, pulling her hair back. “I am full Eleri now.”

  He traced a finger over the delicate points of her ears and she shuddered. The gesture sent waves of wild lust pulsing through her. His lips were too close, his scent too fresh.

  “No,” Rhoane said, his voice coming from far away, “you are something much more.” It sounded as if the effort to speak was too much. He ran his hand through her hair and the faintest of smiles lifted the corner of his lips.

  “I will be leaving the Weirren soon.” His eyes flicked to hers for only a moment, then back to her silken hair. “I need to go to my father and learn about his power.”

  “Yes, that is what you must do.”

  She held his face between her hands. “I know you are in there. Come back to the light, my love. I can not fix you. Only you can do what I failed to do. I can not save you, mi carae.” Her voice caught on a sob. “When you find yourself, come back to me.” She fought against her desire to hold him in her arms, to suffuse him with her power. To heal what was broken.

  His hands cupped her face, a long thumb tracing her lips while his fingers caressed her as if he were a blind man committing her features to memory. “I remember you.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, over his hands. He kissed his thumb and placed it on her lips, then put his forehead to hers and said, “When next we meet, may it be in sweetness and not sorrow.”

  “When next we meet,” she completed the Eleri saying.

  Before sunrise the next morning, Taryn left the Weirren with only Kaida as her companion. She’d said her goodbyes the previous night, preferring to slip out while everyone slept. As she lifted each veil, a part of her stayed behind. When she reached the glen and closed the final veil, she did not look back as she turned to the west and her father.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rhoane crouched in the shadows until Taryn left the vier. When he could no longer see her riding west, he stretched his cramped body and returned to where he’d left Fayngaar. His great stallion nickered as he approached and Rhoane pet his muzzle. A movement to his right caught his attention and Rhoane swung about, reaching for a sword that was not there.

  “Bressal.” Rhoane remained wary. “Come to tell me you were right?” He was exhausted and in no mood for his brother’s gloating.

  “Nay, my lord. Just the opposite, in fact.”

  Rhoane glanced at him, surprised. “Why the change of heart?” He pulled himself into the saddle and guided his horse in step with the other man.

  “I was there, at the ceremony.” His gaze drifted into the distance. “And afterward when she lay between this world and the next.”

  “As was I. Yet I cannot think of what you mean.”

  “I do not deny that I will never understand the workings of the female mind, nor shall I ever try. But this I know for sure. Taryn would gladly lay down her sword and her life for you.” He chuckled sardonically. “In a way, she already has.”

  When Rhoane looked pointedly at him, Bressal explained, “I saw her life before this one. She was happy there and would have remained so had Brandt not brought her back. She could very easily return to where she came from, but she stays. She has accepted every condition put upon her by you, her mother, our father, everyone, and why? For you.” Bressal’s tone took on a harshness Rhoane knew all too well, touched with a protectiveness he’d not heard in too many seasons. Not since their mother was living. “She deserves better than you, that is for certes.”

  “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.” Bressal’s voice lowered. A long-held sadness entered his tone. “You are the darathi vorsi prince. If you fade, what of that prophecy? What of the others?”

  The sound of leathery wings unfurling, of talons shifting across sand startled Rhoane. He’d all but forgotten he was the prince of dragons. Or had he conveniently denied it for too long?

  Some of the old connection with his brother welled inside him, comf
orting, challenging. “I appreciate your advice, and your honesty. 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—his cynfar 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 befall 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 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 knocked 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 have 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 h
is 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 among the many he’d already told that day.

  “Do you truly believe that?”

  “You and I both know Taryn must become Darennsai 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.