by Jayne Faith
Later that day I canceled my evening meeting with the High Priestess and told Camira to refuse all calls from the Temple. I went alone to the terrace garden high in the palace, the place I’d brought Maya.
I walked slowly through the exquisitely rendered artificial flora, the imitations of plants native to Earthenfell. The air was cool, with a metallic tang that I could nearly taste, signs of the electrical storm that was growing in the distance. Calisto was too dry to have Earthenfell-like precipitation storms. Instead, particles and electrical charges built up in the atmosphere until the air could no longer hold the energy. Then it would explode in a stunning show.
When I reached the edge of the terrace, I cast my gaze far into the distance and watched the jagged flashes of blue-white lightning dancing over the horizon. Electrical storms thrilled me when I was young, but now I felt brittle and too weary to delight in the phenomenon.
Reluctantly, I replayed my recent exchanges with the High Priestess, trying to look at both sides with objectivity. I kept returning to one point, the revelation I’d had earlier: High Priestess Lunaria’s arguments and demands had become fanatic. Increasingly so over the past several days.
I remembered something my father had said about the fanatic state of mind: “Fanaticism produces blinds spots. Eventually, it twists the fanatic’s mind until he’s all too willing to try to bend reality to fit his bias.”
The trick was, my father had said, knowing the difference between fanaticism and devotion.
High Priestess Lunaria and I were both driven by our faith—our devotion—to the sacred texts and the Return. I was deeply devoted to Maya as well as to my duties.
More than once, the High Priestess had manipulated me with stern reminders about my duty. Accused me of allowing Maya to pull me away from my obligations. Yes, in a way the High Priestess had used my faith against me, to steer me, even if she believed her intentions were pure.
Could one not say that either she or I had become fanatic? Probably. So which of us was in the right?
I filled my lungs and then let my breath out.
Slowly, like the light of morning breaking over the horizon, the answer dawned on me.
High Priestess Lunaria had already begun bending reality to her will by manufacturing a miracle. She’d become dangerously adamant. I was the only one of the two of us questioning, considering, pondering the propriety of our decisions.
I was right.
She was the fanatic, not I.
Sure, I could be accused of making emotional decisions—I always would do so when it came to Maya—but I had not lost all perspective.
The calm of certainty filled me like a refreshing drink on a hot afternoon. I turned away from the balcony and walked purposefully back through the garden.
Before I pushed open the door to rejoin my two guards, I touched my earpiece. “Camira, I need to speak to my brother. Right away, if you can rouse him.”
My assistant replied immediately. “One moment, my Lord.”
The two guards followed me onto the lift.
“He can meet you in fifteen minutes in your chambers,” Camira’s voice came in my ear. “Unless you’d like to meet in one of the secure rooms in the military wing?”
“No, my quarters will be fine.”
I’d had a secure room built within my chambers just for meetings such as this one. I’d become more paranoid about eavesdroppers and traitors in recent months. Except, it wasn’t really paranoia. Too much had come to light, and there was too much still unknown, to feel safe talking about sensitive matters in any but the most secure locations.
When I arrived at my chambers, my faithful Earthen servant Victor was waiting to greet me.
“I understand you have audience with the prince, my Lord,” he said as he straightened from his bow. Camira had obviously warned him. “There is food waiting if you’d like to take any into your meeting.”
I nodded. “Perfect. I will grab a bite to carry in with me.”
I went to the cart, spread a napkin, and piled rolls, slices of cheese and dried fruit, and a bunch of grapes in the middle of it. I gathered the corners to make a little package. I could have asked Victor to wheel the service cart into the secure room but didn’t feel safe taking in anything but my own person and the food I intended to eat.
Victor aimed a subtle arched-brow look at the bundle when I passed, and I gave him a little shrug. Normally I appreciated his strict sense of propriety, but protocol had to take a back seat to caution.
I arrived at my secure meeting chamber only a moment before my brother. As soon as I saw his face, some of the tightness in my chest loosened a bit. He looked well, vivacious even. And I suddenly felt sure I’d made the right choice in asking him to help me.
He nodded at me, reached for a dried apricot from the napkin I’d set on the small table, and popped the fruit into his mouth, all as if this late meeting in my secure room were a perfectly regular occurrence.
“You appear more at ease than I can remember, well, perhaps ever,” I said.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “I feel better than I’ve ever felt.” He let out a little laugh that was so unlike him I couldn’t help answering with a grin.
But my mood quickly sobered. I needed to get a true assessment of his mental state. “It wasn’t so long ago you were obsessing over Maya. You were practically wasting away with it. What changed?”
I went still, the food forgotten for the moment, as I focused on taking in every detail of his movements and expressions.
He drew a slow breath and let it out, his mood turning serious too. “I wasn’t well,” he acknowledged. “My memory of it is gray and hazy, like a thick fog had encased those weeks. But I’m positive that’s all behind me now.”
“But how? Why?” I pressed.
His mouth widened just a little, his eyes lighting up. “Love.” He shrugged one shoulder, clearly a bit self-conscious.
I gave him a sly look. “And you still won’t tell me who the lucky woman is?”
His gaze shifted off to one side, and he shook his head. “I can’t. Not yet.”
I pushed away from the wall I was leaning against and waited until his eyes met mine. “Can you swear that you are of sound mind?”
He snorted. “As much as anyone can assess their own soundness of mind.” The mirth in his eyes faded as he caught my expression. “Yes, I believe I’m as sound as I’ve ever been.”
I watched him for a moment and then nodded. “I hope what I say next doesn’t prompt any regression.”
His brows lifted, but he waited for me to continue.
“I want to make Maya my queen.”
He watched me for a moment, perhaps waiting for me to elaborate. When I didn’t, he nodded slowly. “That’s a bold wish, brother.”
My jaw clenched once. “It’s not a wish. Do you know how we came to be part Pirro?”
A brief flash of confusion clouded his face, but then his eyes darted warily to mine. “I was waiting for you to bring that up. The blood test. I know you didn’t want me to give a sample to the High Priestess.”
“No, I didn’t, but it’s too late now.” I flapped one hand, as if brushing that tangent aside. “We have Pirro blood running through our veins. And not just a little of it. It’s been concentrated in the royal bloodline because the women who are presented to the Lords as candidates for Queen have Pirro blood.”
Finally, he looked a bit startled. “So each Lord, who is already part Pirro himself, marries a part-Pirro woman and has offspring . . . and on and on.”
“Yes.”
“What does this have to do with marrying Maya?”
“I want to expose the pool of women—the pool from which I’m supposed to choose a Calistan wife—for their Pirro heritage. I want to use that as justification for not marrying any of them. Given my personal history with the Pirros, which everyone on Calisto knows, I believe I’ll have the sympathy of the nation.”
“So you want to spin it as the right thing to d
o for the royal bloodline and for Calisto.” Jeric leaned one shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. “But really, you’re in love with her and can’t live with the thought of marrying another woman.”
I spread my hands wide, palms up. “We’re on the verge of the Return. I don’t need to marry a Calistan woman to produce another Calistan Lord. When we reclaim Earthenfell, I’ll be obligated to cast my Calistan wife aside anyway, to have Earthen offspring.”
He waited, giving me a pointed look.
I sighed, knowing he wanted me to acknowledge what he’d said. “And yes, I refuse to entertain the thought of committing to any woman but Maya.” My voice was soft in my own ears.
To my surprise, his face cracked into a wide grin. “That’s brazen, Toric.” He reached down and grabbed himself in a lewd gesture that I knew he meant to be a compliment. “I think I like the new Lord.”
A loud guffaw bubbled up my throat, and something inside me seemed to stir and loosen.
“I assume you need me to do something,” he said, his eyes still bright.
I dipped my chin once. “Only if you’re comfortable with this, Jeric. It’s going to require some great risks, and not everyone is going to support this move.”
His face hardened. “High Priestess Lunaria. Does she know you’re planning to do this?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I proposed it, and let me just say she did not see it as the right path forward.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. She’s a hard case. The only person I’ve ever known who’s more dutiful than you are.”
I bristled, straightening and leaning forward. “Both she and I are duty-bound in ways that no one else could ever understand,” I said, my voice breaking a little with intensity.
He held up a hand. “I get it,” he said, his voice tightening. “Do you want my help or not?”
I let out a breath and ran a hand through my hair. My relationship with my brother had changed in recent months, but old patterns hadn’t completely died. He’d always been able to provoke my defenses more quickly and deeply than anyone. “Yes, of course. I apologize. And you’re right. I take my duties very seriously.”
“As you should,” he said. “But she’s obsessed by hers.”
“Well, it’s practically part of her job description.” I could have pointed out that only weeks ago Jeric himself had been ruled by obsession, but I refrained.
“Still . . .” He shook his head. “That business with Maya and the flame . . . Don’t misunderstand, I’m thrilled that Maya is still alive and happy to have played a part. But it was no miracle that saved her, yet the High Priestess seems to believe that the appearance of a miracle is as good as a real one.”
I gave my brother a long look as I recalled the realization that had come to me on the terrace garden.
“Yes,” I said softly. “She has become fanatic. And therein lies the problem.”
After a moment of sober silence, Jeric planted his feet wide and rubbed his hands together briskly with an eager look on his face. “What shall we do first?”
We traded a brief conspiratorial grin, and then we began to plan.
5
High Priestess Lunaria
WHEN LORD TORIC abruptly canceled our meeting the day before, I knew I could no longer rely on him. In the back of my mind, I’d always worried about his stability. After all, he’d spent a handful of his formative years at the hands of the Pirros, being tortured and twisted. He managed to keep a steady and calm exterior most of the time, but I knew it was only through great discipline.
He’d shown up for our morning meeting, sparing me the need to chase him down. I was relieved, as he still seemed committed to our close study of the Sequence, the steps we’d need to follow to complete the Return. His demeanor was cool, however, and he refrained from any casual conversation. He also didn’t apologize for anything. I let it pass, preferring instead to focus on the task at hand.
But my confidence in him had crumbled.
I paced my office. What was I to do? We were so very near the Return. By the stars, there were times I could close my eyes and almost feel the Earthen wind rustling, the warming light of homeland’s single sun on my skin.
There was a time I’d truly believed that Lord Toric was the man to lead us home. It had seemed clear that the trials of his youth were part of his hero’s journey, part of what made him the Lord we needed and the one the sacred texts described, but . . . maybe I’d been wrong.
Perhaps Toric’s role was something else, perhaps something related to Maya Calderon, the Earthen harbinger of the Return. I glanced at the texts stacked on my desk, but I’d already pored over them looking for the answer and found none except what I knew before: that Toric’s life did fit the texts’ description of the Lord who would lead the Return.
I shook my head in irritation and then closed my eyes and drew a few slow breaths.
If the stars did not want Toric to be the Lord to lead the Return, the stars would tell me so.
I repeated the phrase silently to myself a dozen times. I focused all of my attention on trying to absorb the truth of it.
When I opened my eyes, I felt somewhat less agitated.
I went to my desk and tapped a panel built into its surface. “Celestia?”
“At your service, Your Holiness.”
“I want to meet with the Oracle later today. When you get in touch with her, ask her if she’d prefer that I come to her.” The Oracle lived in a cottage at the edge of the Temple grounds, and her little house always felt too cave-like for my taste. But knowing the Oracle’s reclusive tendencies and because she was an old friend, I was happy to make concessions for her comfort by meeting at her home.
“Yes, Your Holiness, right away.”
Perhaps the Oracle would tell me what the sacred texts wouldn’t regarding Lord Toric.
One of my tablets chimed, drawing my attention. I went to my desk and sat, my stomach already tightening with anticipation of what I believed I’d find.
My instincts were correct. It was an update from the miracle commission.
I quickly scanned it and then started at the beginning and read more slowly. When I reached the end, I gritted my teeth in consternation.
What I gathered was that the miracle commission was clearly leaning toward an official miracle declaration. This aligned with what my source had been reporting to me. But there were also references to Novia’s hypotheses about how Maya might have survived the flame, scenarios that were decidedly not miraculous. Without Novia’s vocal protests and postulations, the commission would probably be wrapping up its investigation already.
An annoyed groan formed deep in my throat. I’d always appreciated Novia’s intelligence and her ability to examine things from every angle. She and her team had been invaluable so many times in the past. But now, she seemed determined to interfere. Couldn’t she see she was standing in the way of the flow of events that would take us to Earthenfell?
The miracle commission’s update wasn’t an official report and only went to me and the high-ranking priestesses of the Holy Assembly. But I knew the information would spread to the rest of the Temple, and whispers probably would get leaked to the public, who was eagerly awaiting the commission’s ruling.
It struck me suddenly that Novia seemed to have the same flaw as Lord Toric. Both of them failed to understand that perception was everything. We needed the emotions of the nation behind Maya, and we had to do everything possible to ensure public support. If the public turned against her, we’d end up right back where we’d been not long ago: with Maya standing on the end of the Bridge to Purification facing her death. And no harbinger.
I’d threatened that very thing to Lord Toric. And I would follow through if the stars gave me the sign to do so, but I hoped it wouldn’t be the case, for I truly wanted the Return.
I was doing everything in my power to ensure that we stayed the path, but the misguided wills of others kept raising needless barriers. It was positively maddeni
ng.
At times I felt as if I were the only person on Calisto who understood that destiny didn’t just happen by itself. The stars would not simply hand Earthenfell to us. We had to show our worthiness, our commitment, and our willingness to achieve our goal at all costs. We had to show our willingness to sacrifice our desires, our very lives, if needed. The players in the quest for Earthenfell had to take active responsibility for their roles. I had always assumed this was self-evident to a woman as intelligent as Novia and a man as crucial to the Return as Lord Toric. Clearly I’d misjudged, and I was paying a price for it.
Somehow I had to ensure that my miscalculation didn’t cost us Earthenfell.
I allowed my appointments and duties to absorb my attention for the rest of the day—or tried to. When the time came for my meeting with the Oracle, the grip of anticipation made my fingers fidgety and my pulse thud.
It wasn’t that I expected her to have a new vision or major revelation. If there was a new prophecy or a change to a previous one, she would have told me right away. What I was really seeking, I realized as I made my way to her cottage, was confirmation of my thoughts. Simple support. The Oracle was one of the only people on Calisto I could go to for counsel. It wouldn’t be prudent for a woman of my position to seek advice from lower-ranking priestesses. There was no one else I could consult with outside the Temple—I’d broken ties with my few remaining relatives and childhood friends long ago—and outsiders couldn’t be trusted to understand my quandaries or keep conversations confidential, anyway.
When I reached the Oracle’s cottage, a young woman clad in Temple initiate teal opened the door and dropped into a deep curtsy. “It is our honor to receive Your Holiness in the house of the Oracle.” She straightened, but still kept her eyes downcast. “I will take you to her.”
I followed the initiate into the small house. She took me to a cozy sitting room just off the short hallway leading away from the front door. The shades were drawn partway over the windows and only candles lit the space.
Terrina, the Oracle, sat on a divan. Her walking staff leaned against the armrest. When she heard us enter, she rose. She stretched out her arms, her hands waiting for mine to clasp them. Her blind eyes were concealed under a narrow strip of cloth tied around her head.