by Nicole Adamz
If I failed…Do what needs to be done. Ari won’t know. A trickle of guilt worked into my heart.
When the room was empty, I stood and walked across the expensive sheep skin rug and into the vacant foyer. I glanced at the quartz stairs at the back of the dais. Two male cousins stood guard at the bottom. Castia is locked in a room because she’s pregnant. I hesitantly placed a hand on my stomach, shuddering at the thought of being locked away from the sky for so long.
Chapter 21
Ari
SHOVING MORE WOOD into the small iron stove in my room, I frowned in the direction of Maewyn’s chamber. A month had passed since the Autumn Feyle, and after Maewyn’s family meeting her door only opened when she wanted me to post a letter.
A frustrated sigh ruffled the parchment on my desk, and I continued working on class assignments. The tomes I’d borrowed from the Great Library were still in my satchel and still indecipherable. I should return them to the Great Library but…flashes of the feral Anomaly attacking me popped into my mind.
Those eyes…the pupils were slits. I frowned, putting more wood into the pot belly stove. Rime had descended, and I suppressed a shiver when I closed the grate, pressing a hand to the healed scratches on my neck. Maewyn didn’t notice them when she came back from her family meeting. Although, the bruise on her cheek didn’t bode well for how things went.
Afterwards, Maewyn kept to her chamber. She refused to let me clean her room, practiced Story Weaving in random frenzies, and began an ongoing campaign to keep the Courier Service in business. I’d rarely seen her except for the occasions I coaxed her to eat. Her words flew past me to the staccato beat of ‘something is wrong’ and the familiar tang of metal in the back of my throat. I wiped at a trickle of blood winding down my chin.
The feeling that something was awry emanated off Maewyn so strongly I wanted to scream. The soft snick of a door opening caught my attention, and I watched Maewyn search the common room before settling on my lone form. The soft swish of her front-tie velvet gown, a new style she wore, preceded her arrival with a sealed letter.
“Please mail this,” she said without inflection, avoiding my gaze.
I snatched the letter with a restrained snarl. Maewyn flinched, turning to leave. I grabbed her arm, willing her to look at me, but she wouldn’t. Please, Maewyn. Talk to me. Yell at me. Something! Anything other than this shell you’ve become.
The faint purple half-moons beneath her eyes had deepened, but a small smile lit her face until her gaze landed on the letter in my hand. An immediate shutter covered Maewyn’s eyes and she reclaimed her arm, walking to her chamber and closing the door against my intrusion. I resisted the urge to pound against the barrier. Why won’t she talk to me?
Sighing, I stared at the letter. The violet seal taunted me, and I scowled. The urge to read the contents grew stronger every time Maewyn handed me one. I shook my head. No, that’s wrong. Besides, there’s no way to reseal it once the wax is broken.
Straightening the messy papers scattered over my desk, I grabbed a cloak. Skies! I need fresh air and an open sky. Buttoning the cloak around my wings, I marched out the door. It didn’t take long to post the letter, and the sky was a watery blue unmarred by a single cloud. The cold bit my face, Rime’s wintry grasp changing the air to a breath catching snap.
At the edge of the Inner Holding I slowed to a glide, examining the rush of bodies as they dipped from one store to the next among the multiple levels of the Market District. I wasn’t sure of my destination, but I didn’t want to navigate the air traffic. Maybe I should have gone to my favorite garden terrace at Ascension instead.
My stomach chose that moment to rumble, and I pursed my lips irritably. While I was thinking, the pale grey stream below the Market District caught my eye. I stared at the steady press of bodies on the street, feeling drawn to the area. Before I second-guessed the tug of longing, I dove through the crisscrossing air traffic, and slowly descended to the dusty street. Allowing myself to become a part of the multitude, I wandered aimlessly.
The stalls burst with colors, and memories of times Zora brought me along as a fledgling trickled through my mind while I meandered. Guilt hammered into me. There are only a few more months left until Zora is auctioned, and I haven’t saved up enough money. What will I do if she’s sent to Larrikin? The thought added to my dejected state.
Spices teased my nose, and I paused at a few booths until I noted the price of the food. Everything costs more than the few dosh I have, and I need to save as much as I can. I kept wandering, and it wasn’t until I spied the silver eyed merchant’s booth that I realized why I’d felt pulled to Ash Path.
He employed the same tactics, keeping his voice low and creating bidding wars among gathered customers. I stood on the fringes of the crowd, smirking when people overpaid for items. Gladys, a repeat customer, huffed and walked away. She must be annoyed with the merchant’s tactics, I thought in amusement as she pushed into the crowd, quickly slipping away on a tide of passerby.
My errant gaze slowly wandered over the planed muscles of the merchant’s arms, wrapped tightly in a leather jerkin. When my gaze worked up to his face, I found him staring intently at me with a grin. A blush crawled across my skin, and I cursed silently. The amused, upward tilt of the merchant’s lips made my heart skitter. He jerked his head, motioning me forward, but I shook my head and forced my feet to move on.
A heavenly smell at the next stall grabbed my nose, pulling me behind a winding line of customers. They all left with a satisfied groan, and I examined their food. Why would anyone wait so long for a bun? I thought, puzzled. However, the smell emanating from the stall teased my nose, forcing me into the line. When it dwindled to a few people, I craned my head for the price.
A small sign called the item a ‘Bursting Bun’ with hand-drawn dosh for the cost. The fee was reasonable, but I was a quarter-dosh short and bit my lip in consternation. The burly Elysian behind the counter didn’t look up from pounding on a lump of dough when I made it to the counter.
“How many?” he called through the narrow opening of the stall.
The unkempt whiskers on the man’s face twitched and he grunted, punched the dough, and sprinkled flour on a clean slab of metal. I should have left the line, but I was so hungry. Maybe I can ask for a small one.
“How many? I don’t have all day!” the man thundered, rolling the dough into a thin layer on the sprinkled flour.
The impatient crowd started mumbling, so I tapped the counter to get the baker’s attention. Irritated eyes snapped to mine, but in one sweeping glance the man quickly examined me.
“How many, Tyro?” he said gruffly.
I held up a finger and pinched my fingers together to indicate ‘small’. The baker’s level gaze made me shift nervously, and I hurriedly gathered my dosh and placed it the wooden counter. A disgruntled gaze passed over the man’s features.
“Apologies, Tyro. I can’t take less than the required amount. Got myself a family.”
Understanding, I nodded. My stomach growled in protest. Gathering my dosh, I turned to leave when a voice cut across the distance.
“Give her two,” the beguiling silver-eyed merchant said.
He flicked a small sachet across the gap separating the booths, and I watched the baker catch it before it hit the dough he was working on. He glanced at the dosh inside, pocketed it, and wrapped two Bursting Buns in thin sheets of paper. Laying them on the counter, he added a small piece of hard candy on top. I glanced quizzically at him.
“Everyone knows the girl with the weird eyes belongs to Zora. She’s good people. Helped my family when we were in need,” he said gruffly.
Embarrassment filled me at the description, but I smiled in thanks. Gathering the purchases, I turned toward the disheveled merchant’s stall and pointedly ignored his cocky grin. His previous crowd had dwindled to two customers.
“You’re welcome,” he said when I stalked over.
I thumped the Bursting Buns down in
front of him, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. It hurt a part of me to do it, and I almost sniveled when I turned to walk away. I want that food so badly.
“Whoa, wait! I purchased these for you,” he said, leaning across the counter to grab my arm.
The contact zinged through my body, and I snatched my arm away. The merchant reclaimed his hand, rubbing his gloved fingers. He nodded toward the Bursting Buns on the counter.
“These are yours,” he repeated.
I shook my head. No, I didn’t pay for them.
“They’re for you. You’ll regret it if you don’t have one,” he insisted.
I bit my lip, ravenously eyeing the steam drifting through the thin paper. My stomach growled loudly, and the merchant’s pale eyes crinkled. He scooted the buns toward me.
I refused to touch them, so the merchant un-wrapped one, releasing the strong aroma. My nose twitched. I looked away. The merchant shrugged nonchalantly, preparing to take a bite. I caved, snatching the bun from his hand before his lips touched it. His mouth curled triumphantly.
“At least one,” he coaxed.
My mouth watered, and I took a delicate bite. A cacophony of tastes filled my mouth; seasoned venison, garlic potatoes, melted cheese, and buttered corn filled the warm, herbed bread. It was everything delicious and mouthwatering rolled together and baked to perfection. I shoved half the bun into my mouth.
A wicked grin split the merchant’s face and he teased, “Okay, my turn. I want a bite.”
My eyes narrowed, and I took a step back. He burst out laughing, his silver eyes gleaming with mirth, and I blushed lightly. He was kind enough to buy them, and I don’t even want to share.
The merchant scooted the second one toward me. “I bought them both for you.”
I looked at him questioningly, and he shrugged. “You can pay me back one day. Come back for a visit to my stall. Maybe buy something for yourself next time.”
I blinked in surprise. “Flashy isn’t your style,” the merchant said simply.
While I ruminated over the merchant’s unexpected kindness and his far-too-knowing comment, he turned to assist a customer inquiring about a pair of earrings. I watched him, puzzling over the awkward knot forming in my stomach. Not accustomed to the sensation, or the situation, I left the other Bursting Bun and the small piece of candy on the counter.
I didn’t acknowledge the twinge of regret accompanying my silent parting. Best not to be indebted to strangers.
Chapter 22
Maewyn
IFLAPPED MY WINGS HARD against the whirring, frigid wind, desperate to keep my appointment at the Temple. The heavy, grey clouds foretold of impending snow; the first of many during Rime. It had been weeks since I’d heard anything from my parents about the appointment with Aerial Prelate Ragnor to dissolve my Mate-Bond, and a part of me had wondered if they’d forgotten. But of course, they hadn’t.
Seeing my wan image had strengthened my resolve for the plan I’d crafted, and my vivid green cloak bolstered my spirit before going to the Temple. Unseen winds tugged at it, but the flight shouldn’t have been so difficult. The Temple was in the Private Holding not far from Ascension. And yet, it feels like a thousand hands are pulling me down.
How many of those hands belong to my family? My lips twisted downward. When I reached the tall, stark structure jutting into the sky like a weapon, I landed on the ledge and leaned heavily against a marble column circling the exterior. I greedily sucked in air before I straightened and tossed my simple, silver braid over my shoulder.
Casually, I glanced through the partial glass dome arching between the columns of the Temple’s main building. Prelates and Neophytes, trainees to become Prelates, flew around the highest part of the Temple singing hymns to Aeolus. From this distance, they looked like blue ravens.
A Prelate materialized beside me and I jumped, barely retaining my composure. “Are you Caelum Maewyn?” he said solemnly. I nodded, too winded to speak. “Follow me, please.”
He turned, his velvet robes flapping, and I stared at the cylindrical hat sitting on his head, apparently unruffled by the tugging fingers of the Rime air. How do they make it stay on their heads? I repressed a nervous giggle and followed the Prelate toward the shadowy door, pausing when he grabbed a lantern. Memories of training to become a Tyro flicked through my mind.
What would have happened if I’d never stepped through these doors? Our boots echoed in the empty hallway, becoming an eerie set of shadow footsteps. A flurry of movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. Turning, I was trapped in the surprised, hunted gaze of a fledgling girl. Her silver hair and emerald eyes glinted dully in the lantern light.
I blinked, and the image morphed into an auburn haired, hazel-eyed Anomaly. My brow furrowed, and I looked away. At the end of the long hallway we turned right, approaching a set of stairs. The Prelate stopped in the gloom, handing me the lantern. Are they all so solemn? Ugh. Seems like a boring occupation. Before I stepped up the stairwell, the Prelate spoke.
“May the blessings of Aeolus precede your path and bless your journey.”
I didn’t respond, hoping the blessing wasn’t a safeguard against misfortune during the dissolution of the Mate-Bond. It’s probably a generic phrase. The Aerial Prelate gets frequent requests for dissolution, right? I nodded. Right.
The stairs rose higher and higher, and the Prelates and Neophytes outside became closer and closer with each step. When I was level with the circling mass of men the stairs stopped, leveling into a large circular room with floors mirroring the sky. Glass double doors graced the room every few feet, providing the illusion of being in the sky without flying.
A single stretch of wall held a massive fireplace with mysterious carvings on it, but the large table in the middle of the room snared the eye. It held vials and containers of varying shapes and sizes. Some were bubbling. Aerial Prelate Ragnor appeared from a corner, and I bowed my head respectfully. He was the eldest Elysian in Summit.
Thin wisps of white hair floated around his speckled, sagging face, and an aged, gnarled hand beckoned me forward. I hesitantly drew near, and his hand snapped around my wrist with surprising strength. Muffling a gasp, I resisted the urge to flee when his pale blue eyes bored into me. Aerial Prelate Ragnor gave me a piercing, knowing stare and I cringed inwardly.
“Caelum Maewyn?” he said in a graveled voice.
There was a disquieting familiarity to the sharp face with puddles of waxen skin. My heart hammered in my chest. It’s his eyes. His pale, knowing eyes. Something about them is familiar. I leaned away while his knobbed fingers rubbed my captured wrist.
“Yes.” I whispered. People do this all the time. It’s the only way to break the Mate-Bond. I straightened. “Yes.” I repeated strongly.
Perceptive eyes peered at me, letting the silence wrap around the room. The dark shapes of the Prelates and Neophytes circled the tower, whipping past the windows—an unnerving gathering of witnesses. Aerial Prelate Ragnor’s thumb pressed against my pulse, and his lips lifted in the tiniest curl. He could feel my quivering heartbeat.
“You want to dissolve a Mate-Bond,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
I answered anyway. “Yes.”
“Why?” he demanded.
I blinked, surprised. Didn’t my parents explain? What can I tell him? I tried to create a Mate-Bond with High Lord Bera, but accidentally created one with my former Caelum instead? No one would believe that.
I took a breath. “It isn’t a beneficial match.”
“Then why mate with him?” the Aerial Prelate asked, drilling for answers. I blushed at the intrusive question, and he raised a sparse, white eyebrow. Is this part of the dissolution?
I took a deep breath. “It was…unavoidable,” I murmured.
Aerial Prelate Ragnor nodded briskly, let go of my wrist, and turned toward the table with focus. A metal scale sat beside bowls of colored powder, and at the end was a length of cloth with sharp, metal knives glinting ominously. Aerial
Prelate Ragnor picked up the cloth and stepped closer. When I stepped back, he frowned portentously.
“Do you want the Bond dissolved, or don’t you?” he snapped impatiently.
I nodded, and he tied the cloth over my eyes. A cloying, musky scent filled my nose at his proximity, and I struggled not to gag. He smells like death dipped in a vat of scented oil.
“This is for your security and safety. Don’t want you being a fool and thinking you can dissolve a Mate-Bond yourself. It takes decades of knowledge to hone such skills,” he grumbled.
Aerial Prelate Ragnor grabbed my wrist again and metal instruments clinked. A sharp sting sliced my finger, and I winced when Aerial Prelate Ragnor squeezed the wound. A soft whisper of sifted powder was the only noise, and I was tempted to peek. Would he know if I did? More pressure was applied to my finger before a small cloth was wrapped around it. When the blindfold was removed, I was handed a vial of rosy liquid.
“Drink this on an empty stomach. It will break the Bond, and it will dissolve completely in a few months. There might be some sickness or fatigue, but it should pass,” Aerial Prelate Ragnor said authoritatively.
I looked at the small vial, clutching it tightly before tucking it into the pocket of my gown. Odd that a Mate-Bond takes a few minutes to create but months to fully dissipate. Aerial Prelate Ragnor turned to his table, closely examining a few vials of dark red liquid. He waved his hand dismissively, and I bowed before leaving.
The previous silence of the main floor in the Temple was broken by the muffled boots of Prelates and Neophytes shuffling from room to room. They must have finished their morning ritual. Quiet, half whispered conversations reached my ears, and I glanced curiously through doorways. I was at the entrance when I realized who I was looking for. The Anomaly. Remembering her expression, I knew why. She knows what it’s like to be trapped.
