by Brandon Barr
The Sanctuss's smile was warm. “Dear girl, not at all. I still carry the burden of rejecting the Makers. When I am honest with myself, I still wonder, like you, if the Makers are good and have good reason for allowing cruelty. I think every Oracle will be haunted by doubts, no matter which side of the mountain they stand on.”
“Thank you,” said Winter. “I will treasure your honesty forever. I feel so close to you. Even if we are on opposite sides of the mountain.”
Sanctuss Voyanta smiled painfully and wiped at her eyes. The dredging up of those memories was so excruciating, they hung in her mind as she brushed at her tears, distracting her from noticing Winter tenderly reach out her hand.
The girl’s fingers came up lightly to the side of her face and cupped her exposed cheek in a kind-hearted touch. The Sanctuss felt the heat of the contact, its warm fire jolted her, and sent her sideways off her chair. She crumpled onto the rock floor, suddenly in shock, the reality of what Winter had done dawning on her.
“No!” the Sanctuss whimpered, her voice quivering with terror. But it was too late.
“I tried to do what you wouldn’t!” Voyanta called out, not at Winter, but into the void. Into the invisible realm. She knew they heard. But did they feel? Did they care?
The warmth from Winter’s touch moved slowly down her neck. In a familiar whisper, she heard the Maker’s words, a voice she hadn’t heard in many long years, since before her deliverance.
But this time, the word was for her.
She sat up and wept, one hand fastened over her mouth as the warmth encircled her heart, and then, as if gravity were calling to her, she lay back down.
The closeness of the dark. Wrapping its arms around her. The Maker’s words, echoing. Echoing. Even after her body lay dead.
HEARTH
My Divine King,
The Guardian Cultivator continues to come around our building projects. It seems innocent enough, for he likes to watch the new upper walls being built. Yet, I know he dislikes our way of life and our adherence to your teachings. His questions are always tainted with the ring of superiority. My main concern is for your secret creation, Astrum. I fear the animal may get loose, as it nearly did a month ago. The creature is too large and to fierce a thing to contain for much longer. It has eaten or burned to death ten handlers in the last year. If it ever breaks free…what then?
Also, the legions of Nightmares in our western tunnels ask for more food. Many are resorting to cannibalism. They say they are praying to you daily for more of the green sustenance.
Shall I release another batch of them into the wastelands, to prey on the Filth? Or would you have me give more sustenance to the mutations?
One last thing. Orum, your informant, was attacked by a tiger during his mission to the Filthy Lands. His grunt arrived at our gates with the informant’s body. Savarah, the spy he was meeting, felled the creature, but not before it injured her and eviscerated Orum.
Savarah gave no news worthy of your ears. She says all goes as planned at the Hold.
-Danturas, Captain of the Divine King’s Mighty Armies, Praelothia, Star Garden Realm
CHAPTER 17
MELUSCIA
When Meluscia first slipped into her own cold bed in the early morning hour, she was drunk off the power and ecstasy of the night’s encounter. The dark. The late hour. Mica, barely cognizant, stirred out of the stupor of sleep to make love to her—all had conspired together for her, and she’d relished the memory of Mica’s skin against her own, and the taste of what love and being cherished felt like.
But now, as she lay in her bed, shaft light brightening her room, something akin to shame crawled over her skin. She stared at the angled opening at the top of the rock wall opposite her bed. Sunlight filtered through in a beam swirling gently with motes of dust.
In one single night, she had forsaken her scriptures and their sacred principles, and betrayed her own convictions.
An empty hunger deep inside had pushed her over the edge. No longer heir of the kingdom, she had frantically run to the one other thing she wanted, and had taken it, before it too slipped from her fingers.
Now her heart teetered between guilt and awe over what she’d experienced. After last night, she felt capable of anything. Like a woman suddenly awakened to a world of new possibilities.
A girl unrestrained.
Had something changed? Was she a different person now than she was yesterday morning? Had her standards shifted?
Did she want them to shift?
She thought of Regent Adulyyn’s advice…find a secret lover…
Only a week ago, she had resisted the suggestion, but now, such a short time later, she’d found her way into a man’s bed…and he not even aware of it.
But she had tasted what it was like to have a secret lover. For a moment, her mind slipped back into the memory of it, but a trace of guilt chased after, drawing her back to her own room. Her own bed.
Her heart felt as if it had been split open and a chasm lay between one side and the other. The morals and ethics that had governed her life from the days of childhood—these stood on one side. On the other, this new thing. Last night she had unlocked a girl inside she didn’t know existed. She’d chased something she wanted. She had never given in to the desires of her imagination like that. Never taken a risk that wild before.
But having done so, a wall was torn down. A wall that had slowly been crumbling ever since she began visiting that damned spies’ passage. Why couldn’t she have remained satisfied by Jonakin, and loved the ghost in her imagination?
Part of her was scared, for the thrill of what she’d experienced glowed like an ember in her heart. She could never forget what she’d done—never go back. She couldn’t predict when the fire might return.
If she wanted…she might find a way to have him again.
And again. And again.
She unclenched her fingers from the edges of the blanket and slid them over her breasts, then down to rest uneasily at her side.
A knocking sounded on her door.
“What is it?”
A man’s voice said, “You requested muffins My Lady.”
Meluscia sat up and put her cloak on over her satin gown, then moved to her window seat and sat down. “Come in.”
The door opened. One of the guards stepped into the room, followed by Praseme, holding a large basket in her hands.
“My Lady,” said Praseme, bowing her head. “Where would you like these?”
An ugly sense of shame stirred inside Meluscia.
“You can leave them there, by the door. Thank you.”
Praseme nodded and set the basket down. As Meluscia watched her turn to the door to leave, she suddenly had the urge to stop her and bring her near.
Praseme disappeared through the door, and the guard turned to make his exit.
“Wait,” called Meluscia. “Guard, would you bring the girl back, then leave us, I wish to speak to her.”
The guard nodded and called down the hall.
Meluscia didn’t fully know why she’d called Praseme back. Did it have to do with her guilt and the need to cleanse herself in some way?
The young servant woman reentered the room, her face betraying her discomfort. Quietly the guard closed the door as Praseme stood there awkwardly.
Meluscia searched her thoughts for what it was she wanted to say. What was she trying to accomplish? Surely her guilt could inspire some reparation for her to give the young woman.
“I want to apologize to you,” said Meluscia.
Praseme looked surprised. “For what?”
“For dragging you out of your bed to make muffins.”
A shrug lifted Praseme’s shoulders and her eyes lit warmly. “You needn’t apologize. I am honored! Mairena told me you requested me by name. I’ve never felt so privileged in all my years of service.”
Privileged? Why did she have to be so sickeningly sweet?
Meluscia didn’t dislike or hate this woman, but she
envied her. Was, in a way, jealous of her life, and coveted what she had. In some ways, Praseme was to her a soulless body she could fantasize living in, a caricature she could exploit without shame.
But Praseme was a real woman. Soft, humble. Beautiful.
“Please, sit down.” Meluscia gestured toward the other chair at the table where two old tomes from the Scriptorium lay covered by a black cloth. Praseme obeyed and sat, though the look on her face was one of concern.
Meluscia left her there and went to the basket of muffins and picked two.
“Here,” she said, handing Praseme one. “Enjoy.”
Praseme looked uncomfortably at the food in her hand and then at Meluscia. Clumsily, she took a bite of the muffin, cupping her hands under it as crumbs began falling on the table.
A tiny smile slipped across Meluscia’s face. She took a bite of the bread in her hand. “Your muffins are delicious,” she said.
“Thank you,” said Praseme, finishing another bite. Her eyes darted up to the beam of sunlight stretching over their heads. “I know it is not my place to ask, but Mairena, Prehn and I were wondering what you were going to do with all those muffins?”
The number of muffins was arbitrary, Praseme. I only wanted to keep you busy long enough to slip into your bed.
Meluscia stared at Praseme. The girl’s friendly eyes bore into her like sunlight. What could she say?
“What did you think I would do with them?” asked Meluscia, returning the question.
Praseme blushed. “Well, Mairena and I made jokes about that last night. But only because we didn’t know what you wanted them for.”
“Tell me your jokes,” pressed Meluscia.
Praseme looked like she wanted to flee from the room. “Alright, but please don’t be cross, My Lady, we were only joking amongst ourselves. Mairena fancied that you were giving them to a secret admirer. And that once they were delivered to your room, you would write out letters in frosting on each muffin and have them sent to your sweetheart with your message.” Praseme frowned. “I’m sorry. That sounded funnier last night.”
Meluscia swatted her hand at the air, as if batting away her apology. This was the girl she knew from the spies’ passage. Kind and silly. Always light-hearted. It was fascinating, having her so close, experiencing directly the personality she’d grown to know from a distance. Though Meluscia felt a sense of guilt, she was surprised at how little it bothered her.
“What did you think I’d do after eating all the muffins?” asked Meluscia.
Praseme’s face reddened again, but this time, a smirk twisted on her lips. “Again, you promise not to be cross?”
“I promise,” said Meluscia.
“I told Mairena you’d eat all the muffins yourself and gain a finger width to your bust size.”
Meluscia blushed slightly. “What did you mean by that?” she asked quickly.
“You’re too good to us,” said Praseme. “Giving your meals away to the servants so often. I told Mairena the Makers would bless this one little indulgence by allowing the extra muffin girth to settle upon your bosom. I, of course, waited to tell Mairena my jest until after Prehn went to the orchard to pick more apples. Not something to say around a teenage boy.”
Meluscia smiled. She was torn, whether to embrace this endearing girl, or to allow her jealousy to continue on, protecting the new brazen woman she felt growing inside herself.
Another knock sounded on the door.
“Who is it?” said Meluscia.
“It is Heulan, I have urgent news.”
“Come in.”
Heulan looked flustered as he entered the room, his furrowed brow fading into his smooth bald scalp. Praseme rose from her seat, as if making to leave, but Meluscia put her hand on her shoulder, staying her. “What’s happened?” said Meluscia.
“First,” said Heulan, “your sister arrived at the Hold early this morning, just before dawn. She was badly injured. A band of Nightmares came upon her and Captain Osiiun somewhere between the Opal Gorge and Hearth’s Scat. Savarah was nearly bled dry by a wound on her shoulder. Osiiun was killed in the fighting.”
The news rattled Meluscia, her mind racing from the trivial to the sharp edge of the military implications in Heulan’s words.
Never had a Nightmare raiding party ventured that far into the Blue Mountains, only the occasional lone monster, like the one who’d broken into her father’s paddock. And, even then, a lone Nightmare had never gotten as far as the Hold. Not once, not since the time of Isolaug’s taking of the Star Garden Realm. And the raiding parties, they rarely went further than the borderlands, where the wilds met the woods and the mountain foothills descended into the desert wastes.
“Where is Savarah?”
“She is with the physicker in the Sparrow’s Grotto. She is doing well. She stopped the bleeding with Osiiun’s riding pants tightly bound around her shoulder. The physicker was surprised she didn’t lose consciousness on the long jarring ride. But then, it is Savarah,” he said with a comforting smile. “Your sister was never one to regard pain.”
Meluscia’s hand fell from Praseme’s shoulder. “I must see her.”
Heulan nodded. “There is one more thing I must tell you. When your father heard of the attack just moments ago, he bid me to give you a message from him.”
Meluscia steadied herself. Did her father have some further insult, something to obliterate her dreams with finality, though they were already ground to dust?
“He has received a request from King Feaor, asking for another chance at peaceful negotiation. In the letter, King Feaor requested you by name. Your father wants me to relay to you that he has not made his decision yet on who should succeed him as Luminary. In the meantime, he wants you to lead the delegation to negotiate with King Feaor.”
Meluscia’s legs went numb. She fell to her knees, reaching out and gripping the table beside her. The news felt impossible. Her letter! Her father—he reconsidered his decision!
Her heart leapt.
It was as if an earthquake had torn a rift through her despair, and all that she’d hoped might come to be was again possible.
“Thank you, Father!” she said under her breath.
“You can tell him yourself,” said Heulan, his eyes warm and full of pride. “He wishes to see you. Your delegation is to leave at once. Before nightfall.”
Meluscia sprang to her feet, lighter than she’d ever been. Like she had birds’ wings lifting her from the ground. There was little time to prepare, but she embraced the challenge.
“Your father hopes to hold on until your return from your trip to the Verdlands,” said Heulan. “To make his decision.”
To make his decision? It was just as she hoped!
Meluscia raised her chin. “I will not disappoint him.”
She turned to Praseme. “I want you to prepare food supplies for the journey. Accost as many servants as you need to have the supplies ready by noon. They are to follow your orders.” She continued without forethought, surprising herself. “There will be only six of us going. You will be one of them.”
“Me?” exclaimed Praseme. Her hand went to her belly, which revealed nothing in her loose fitted servant’s garb. As of yet, she and Mica hadn’t revealed their secret to anyone. Would she now?
“Prepare enough food for fifteen days. I know your husband is one of the horse masters at the stables. Have him choose the best pack mules for our journey. Will it burden you to be gone from him for long?”
“No, My Lady,” said Praseme, her expression one of utter shock. “No burden compared to this great honor. Thank you.” She bowed, then rushed from Meluscia’s room.
Meluscia turned to Heulan. “Task a reliable man with gathering our provisions. Have them given to Mica at the stables. Tell them we are leaving at noon. We won’t of course, but it will allow us to leave well before nightfall.”
“Yes, My Lady,” said Heulan. “And if I may be so bold in private…I pray it is you, my dear, who is enthroned by
your father, and not Valcere. It is your heart and disposition this mountain needs.”
Heulan bowed low, then left the room.
Meluscia glanced up at the light that had shifted to shine against the wall over her bed. The two very different girls now living inside her stared across the rift in her heart, scrutinizing each other.
One told her she could put the past behind and take hold of the throne. This same girl inside told her she could go back to Jonakin for her strength. That her own imagination could satisfy the desire for companionship and the growing physical hunger she must now forsake.
But the other girl inside reminded her of her burning needs. Of how much more satisfying it was to have that which was real, the possibility that Mica may realize the truth and want her. And this girl pressed her to imagine what else she might be capable of.
The girl’s voice was very familiar.
Just a taste. No one will know.
The inner battle of who she was becoming would have to be sorted out amidst the excitement of her new hope. She would take any surprises as they came, for she was ready to fight for what she unanimously desired: the rule of the Hold.
The power of Luminess.
_____
MELUSCIA
“Give King Feaor this,” said Trigon.
Meluscia took the parchment from her father’s weak grip. She noted the pleased smile he wore as he lay in his bed. His eyes now held signs of pride as Heulan’s had, but there was soberness there, too. She could not understand why he distrusted King Feaor so strongly.
She read over the letter. It detailed her father’s proffered attempt at peace. Lowering the price of wood and ending the skirmishes between the woodcutters and the farmers. There was a plan to build a new road between their kingdoms to ensure direct access to the quarry at the Knot of Amythar, where extracted metals could arrive in Soravell, the Verdlands’ Castle province, after only a two day ride.
Lastly, there was a condition upon which the above rested. King Feaor had to write down on paper every treacherous act and wrong he’d committed against the Hold and make adequate restitution for each crime, worthy of its magnitude. If her father was appeased, he would appoint Meluscia to rule as the next Luminess, and their kingdoms could live in peace. If not, Valcere would rule, and her father promised the vague threat of increased tension and enduring hostility.