An understatement, probably, but that suited Kuro’s plans.
“Oyrivia and her clan?” Lilisette asked.
“The Nymth clan will probably also pretend nothing happened. As for Oyrivia… I have faith in the girl, but whether she proves worthy will be up to her, as always.”
Lilisette leaned back and sighed. “People don’t change so easily, Kuro.”
“As I’ve insisted from the very start, do whatever you must do to convince yourselves that you’re not making a mistake.” He shrugged and snapped his parasol closed.
“This is a point you’ve been adamant about. Why?” Lilisette asked.
“Because if we can be convinced,” Kuro replied without hesitation, “then so might the world.”
25
Exhaustion overwhelmed Roun the moment Zareus left them at the dormitories, and neither Fane nor Sethra looked much better. The three of them returned to Kamil and Laeshiro, but the Rhalgr Grimoire quickly waved away their attempts at an explanation.
“I sense there’s a wonderful tale here, but it can wait,” Laeshiro said. “For now, my friends, just try to get some sleep.”
Relief flooded Roun, but Oyrivia, who woke with a gasp and sprang upright, interrupted his reply. Confusion clouded her face as her wide-eyed gaze panned across them, but before anyone could say anything, she rose from the bed and then stormed out of Laeshiro’s room. Fane bowed his head, mumbled an apology, and followed her.
The rest of them stood awkwardly in the silence, then Roun shrugged.
“Sleep sounds good,” he said, sighing. “Too tired to think even if I wanted to.”
The others agreed and they soon all departed for their own rooms. Roun withdrew his raiments back into his vessel with a humorless smile; there were some unexpected perks to his arte, and one of them was not having to worry about his raiments anymore. He still wasn’t sure whether his vessel somehow restored them or if the sludge recreated his clothing every time, but he didn’t care either way.
Roun flopped onto his bed in his undergarments, ready to descend into blissful slumber, only for Laeshiro to knock on his door a few heartbeats later.
“What?” he croaked as the other Grimoire peeked in.
“It’s almost dawn,” Laeshiro said. “Get up and come with us to the summit.”
Dawn? Roun almost yelled at him for attempting such a cruel prank, but his Farsight revealed the Eldest Throne was about to ignite; hours of dreamless sleep had flashed by in what had seemed like an instant.
Roun groaned.
“Enough of that, now. Get up and join us or I’ll have Kamil place orbs around your bed.”
Roun frowned at the threat, then rose and conjured his raiments while shaking off the odd feeling that he had just taken them off. The others were waiting outside his door, so he went with them up to the summit and took his usual spot in their circle, backs facing inwards, their legs crossed. Yhul and Zareus watched in silence. Roun tiredly stared at the Throne, his Farsight dormant, dreading the coming hour because he’d have nothing to distract him other than his thoughts.
Fate deigned to offer him a brilliant stroke instead, because dawn arrived and his vessel drank its light. He didn’t even notice at first, then didn’t believe it when he did. Eyes widening, he glanced around. The others were cycling dawnlight as usual. Zareus was frowning while Yhul cocked his head.
He resisted the urge to jump up and scream, which would not only distract the others from their meditation, but might also rob him of the moment. Roun shut his eyes and threw himself into his vessel before eying it with the same hesitant caution he might use on a hare he didn’t want to startle.
The élan still didn’t fill him the way slaying wraiths or chimeras did, but was instead caught in clumps as it flowed by the arbiter’s imprisoned spirit. He watched as the élan then flowed around the spirit in a way that formed nebulous rings of light.
His own spirit didn’t seem to like what was happening; its borders squeezed down on the arbiter’s spirit like a fist clenched around fruit. A trickle of élan poured into his reserves while the rest sizzled back out into the world, but the amount he received wasn’t much. It was still better than nothing, and more than enough to bring him close to tears.
The entire process hurt, though; Roun felt like his insides were being rubbed raw, and by a jagged stone at that. His spirit persisted anyway, and its depths grew both deeper and more resilient before his very eyes, leaving Roun to deduce that this was his own personal path to ascension. It’s like digging a hole deeper while compacting its walls so it doesn’t cave in as easily…
Since his spirit was a kind of vessel with another spirit inside it, however, it’d probably get confusing to refer to it as either a spirit or a vessel. Besides, his spirit gave him the impression that it could only hold one captive at a time, so it was a little different than even his vessel. Roun thought about it for a moment and decided to name it after his mind’s impression of it: a spiritual Hollow.
He focused on his Hollow for almost the entirety of dawn’s hour, wondering whether it should frighten or at least concern him. When Roun finally stood, his skin gave off the same warm amber glow as the others. They all glanced at him, but offered nothing more than smiles and silent nods. Simple acknowledgment, Roun realized, because they had expected nothing less.
Roun’s expression hardened with determination as he watched the others gather. Acceptance was something he had sought all his life, and his fellow tower-mates had given it to him despite knowing he was clanless—despite knowing that his arte cast long shadows.
If they were willing to place faith in him despite all that, then Roun would try to place faith in himself as well. It was a thought he had already been nurturing throughout dawn, but this convinced him it was the right direction to take. Being forced to feed on wraiths and chimeras to fill his reserves might be inconvenient, but slaying them would never be something he regretted. As for his Hollow, Roun doubted it’d ever leave him feeling anything other than conflicted, but he still refused to see himself as a monster.
This was just another aspect of his arte to figure out, though this time it would likely take him a while. In the meantime, well, Grimoires sometimes faced brigands and apostates, and it was also possible he wouldn’t need to feed as often if he was careful about devouring chimera spirits.
Avyleir might even be able to help find another solution someday, but he wouldn’t know until he learned more about his abilities, and before that, he wanted to gain better control over them—caving in to his arte’s overwhelming hunger and desire was more than a little unsettling.
Roun shook his head. My arte is a part of me, and mastering myself is one of my duties as a Grimoire. A smile touched his lips. I should worry about graduating from my probation for now, though.
That brought his thoughts back to the night before, but Roun found himself strangely unbothered by the revelations laid bare. It was likely different for the others, but the knowledge that Avyleir would stop him if he ever became a danger to others left him almost relieved, because Roun vowed to never let that happen willingly and that left only one other possibility.
He shuddered as he thought back to how he had killed the arbiter; not as a prisoner to his arte, but as an accomplice.
Yhul and Zareus broke from their quiet discussion with each other and approached them. Roun and the others spread into a half circle and waited as the two scribes gazed across them.
“Today is to be another holiday, it seems,” Yhul said with a grunt as he approached them.
“Don’t sound too upset,” Kamil said.
Yhul tilted his helm-like head towards the Grimoire. “That was concern, not displeasure. We will of course be making up for lost time, and though being forced to push you all harder might break my nonexistent heart, I’m confident you’ll somehow persevere.”
Kamil gave the Centurion a twisted grin and shook his head. “At the rate you’re driving us, we’ll end up going straight from you to
Sothis without ever actually getting into a fight.”
Roun couldn’t help but laugh, and both Sethra and Laeshiro joined him. He and Sethra had already skirmished at the Burrow, but that really just proved Kamil’s point; Yhul still hadn’t been impressed.
Zareus took over and directed them all towards their usual lecture chamber. The scribe didn’t follow, so the six of them soon found themselves alone in the room. Rather than sit in the armchairs, they instead stood in a loose circle and eyed each other.
“This reminds me of when we were picking partners,” Roun observed.
Laeshiro shook his head. “I’d like to think we’ve come a long way since then. Speaking of which, maybe this is a good time to ask about what happened last night?”
Everyone glanced at Oyrivia, who flinched. She then hugged herself and nodded. Fane told the story without being prompted to, and Roun was happy to let him. Sethra added details as needed, and Roun recounted his conversation with the two Nymth matriarchs. Afterward, he awkwardly included his encounter with Arbiter Desantil.
“The bastard did something to us,” Fane said when Roun finished. “Whatever it was, it put Oyrivia to sleep and left Sethra and me defenseless.”
Sethra nodded. “He told me to kneel and my body listened.” She glanced over at Roun. “He tried to do the same thing to you, by the way.”
“I felt it,” Roun said.
“It obviously didn’t work,” Fane said, pointedly looking at him. “In fact, whatever he was doing with his staff at the end was making the effect stronger. For me at least, anyway, but not even that seemed to bother you.”
Roun didn’t have answers for him. “Probably has to do with the, uh, unique traits of my arte.” He shrugged. “If there’s anything I learned last night, it’s that I don’t know much at all.”
“Librarians love pointing out that every arte is a puzzle,” Kamil mused. “But calling yours that would be an understatement, I think.”
Nods and grunts of agreement came from the others.
“Not as much a puzzle to our exarch as I first thought, though,” Roun said. A little bitterness made it into his voice, despite his best efforts. Exarch Kuro asked us not to say anything, but they deserve to know after what happened last night… and besides, I don’t know why else he would want to meet with us, so I don’t think he’ll be too upset.
He only hesitated for a moment before gathering his thoughts and recounting most of their meeting with the exarch. It took a while, and, by the end, even Oyrivia was staring at him with rapt attention.
“Exarch Kuro is a madman,” Oyrivia murmured. “Does he really expect so much from us?”
Fane gently turned her around and put his hands on her shoulders. “Oyrivia. Whatever else our exarch may be, never forget that he listened to my plea for help knowing full well we were both likely to be consigned to death by Avyleir. Not only that, but he also risked upsetting your clan, aided in the death of an imperial agent, and sent Roun and Sethra into danger, and he did it out of faith in us. All of us, if his dream coterie is any sign. I agree that it’s madness, but his particular kind of madness somehow doesn’t seem so terrible to me.”
Oyrivia frowned at Fane for a while, then turned to face the others. “That all happened because of me. You know the story now—I killed my father, brother, and many others and didn’t even have the courage to accept it was an accident. I still blame myself, even now.” She shrugged. “Accident or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I killed them.”
“I murdered someone too,” Roun rebuked with a slow shrug. “I wouldn’t call Desantil innocent, but do you think he deserved to have his spirit devoured?” He paused and glanced around at the rest of them. “That’s how my arte works, by the way. Even worse, I’m beginning to suspect that I’ll have to keep taking human spirits.”
“Roun—” Sethra began, but he raised a hand and shook his head.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ve already decided I’m not going to sulk around hating myself. You were right—I’m more than my arte, and we’re all more than our clans and our pasts.” He nodded over at Oyrivia. “My arte is going to keep me up thinking at night for a very long time, but at least I have the comfort of knowing I won’t have to deal with it alone. That’s made all the difference for me, so if you can’t trust yourself, then trust your friends—especially the idiot who dared to call himself a terrible one.”
Fane jolted in surprise and turned red when Oyrivia gave him a sidelong look. “It’s not like I did anything special.”
“Actually,” Sethra began with a laugh, “I always thought you were a cold-hearted jerk. Turns out you’re not so bad.”
Oyrivia nodded despite Fane’s scowl. “She’s right; you always kept me company, even when I was intentionally being difficult. Most folk would have thought I had gotten what I deserved and left it at that, but you begged the exarch for help instead and… I realize how much you would have preferred anything else.” She sighed and passed a hand through her hair. “Thank you for that, Fane, and for being a better friend than I’ve been to you.” She smiled at Sethra and Roun. “I owe you both my gratitude and my apologies as well.”
They both smiled back.
“Well, let’s move to the real question at hand now that Kamil and I are feeling a little left out,” Laeshiro said with a booming laugh, but he clapped his hands. “Are we going to agree to Exarch Kuro’s request?”
Kamil pushed his spectacles up. “I think that would be a question for Fane and Oyrivia at this point.”
Fane nodded. “I’m… struggling with some personal issues right now, especially regarding my betrothed, but that doesn’t excuse how I’ve been acting. Even worse, now that we all know my life is on the line, I don’t believe I can say anything that would sound genuine. Still, I owe our exarch a debt, and he passed that on to Sethra and Roun, neither of which have asked anything of me.” Fane gave them all a grin. “The very least I can do is try not to be a burden.”
Oyrivia rolled her eyes, but sighed and nodded at the others. “I don’t know what to say.” She paused and the others waited patiently. “My mind’s not in the best place, and I’m not sure what I can even do now that I’m so far behind the rest of you in training. But after all you went through for my sake…” She shrugged. “I’ve already promised Fane I wouldn’t go back to my mother, so I suppose my only option is to stumble forward and figure things out along the way.”
Fane let out a long sigh. “There’s nothing that will ever wash the blood away once it’s seeped into your spirit, Oyrivia. Learning to both accept that and forgive yourself is never an easy road, but Roun was right when he said you wouldn’t have to walk it alone.”
Oyrivia nodded and gave him a humorless smile. “He spent the entire night comforting me just like that, with words so sweet they moved me to tears and set my heart aflutter.”
Kamil laughed softly. “You shouldn’t tease him like that knowing he has a betrothed.”
“Hm, then maybe he’ll let me meet her now?” Oyrivia asked.
Fane frowned. “I’m sorry, Oyrivia. She’d say nothing, but I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from despising you, and I have enough of a guilty conscience already.” When everyone glanced at him curiously, Fane scowled and added, “It’s not… something I want to talk about right now, if ever.”
They left it at that and let the awkward silence fall back into place now that it seemed they would all agree to join Kuro’s coterie. It didn’t last long; the door to the lecture chamber soon burst open.
“Perfect!” Exarch Kuro said as he stepped in with his parasol. Zareus followed just behind him.
“You heard everything, didn’t you?” Roun asked.
Exarch Kuro gave him a hurt look. “By pure coincidence, I assure you! Not that it would have mattered, as I expected us to arrive at this point—I did tell you about airing our dirty knickers out, didn’t I?” Kuro tapped his closed parasol across a shoulder and gave F
ane a look. “Some of us are apparently more bashful than others, but no matter! Have Roun and Sethra answered everything to your satisfaction?”
Kamil grunted. “You want to make a slayer coterie out of us.”
“Exactly so,” Kuro replied. “Normally, coteries are something you don’t worry about until Silver, but I want to train you all as one right away. That said, if you absolutely want no part in this, let me know and I’ll send you to another tower.” The exarch glanced over at Oyrivia and Fane. “You’ll be moved after we have sanctioned you, and I won’t hold it against anyone. Not even you two. So? Anyone interested?”
No one spoke.
“Good. Then, before we continue, are there any questions we can get out of the way?” Kuro asked. “Well, except for anything involving the business with the Nymth clan. I’d also appreciate it if you kept what happened within this group for the time being.”
Roun crossed his arms and glanced around. When everyone else remained silent, he turned towards Kuro and found the exarch already waiting for him to speak. “I’m sorry, but can you at least explain what the arbiter did to us?”
Exarch Kuro shook his head. “It’s not something I can speak about right now, but know that it’s called Authority.”
“So that’s it?” Kamil asked. “We’re just supposed to forget what happened and that this Authority exists?”
“Yes,” Exarch Kuro said. “It’s not a gift the Cantons grant widely, and using it always demands a… well, let’s call it a steep price.”
“To put it lightly,” Zareus muttered from off to the side.
Kuro raised an eyebrow. “Still, anyone who abuses the Eternal Empress’s trust like Desantil did is vile at heart. I was planning on dealing with him eventually, so I’m pleased you spared me the trouble.”
Something about that seemed off to Roun. He frowned. “Did you know it wouldn’t work on me?”
Awakening Arte (The Eldest Throne Book 1) Page 21