Michael lifted his head. "What did she say to you of this Adorian?"
"She said she was walking through the woods, looking for flowers for a wreath, or something equally ridiculous, when she spotted him from a few yards away. She went on about this for weeks, well, years afterwards. The armor he wore, his horse. Even after she'd gotten engaged, she still talked about it, all weepy eyed and sappy."
"Did she marry?" Michael asked.
Ariana thought the question odd. She shook her head. "No, the wedding was set for a few months from now, though if you want to know my opinion, I don't think it was ever going to take place. They didn't get along very well." A smile crossed his face. It had a quaintness to it that caught her interest. "Am I missing something?"
"I saw Palingard once from a distance, as I said earlier. It was at dusk after a ride from Ruiari and when I approached the village, as I shouldn't have done, I witnessed what I assumed to be a wedding. It was several years ago. I think your friend may have seen me."
Ariana wasn't sure how she felt about this. "Are you serious?"
He nodded, looking a bit self-conscious. "I'm afraid so. No other Adorian would have ventured that close. I deviated from my riders because I had the authority to."
Ariana thought it over for a moment and found the revelation saddened her. It may have been the only time that Sara would ever lay eyes on him. "You would have really liked her." Ariana closed her eyes to keep from crying. "She was the human embodiment of trust and loyalty."
"Ariana, there's someone I would like to introduce to you."
She opened her eyes to see Jenner, his hand on the shoulder of an aged, pleasant-looking human. At least, she assumed as much — he didn't have wings and didn't have the build to be Braeden.
"This is Bronach."
The man bowed, a generous smile lighting up his features. "My Lady, it is truly my pleasure to meet you. It seems your name is all I hear these days."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't believe a word of it. I'm not nearly as feisty as they would lead you to believe."
Bronach laughed as he patted her hand. "Fair enough, but I should tell you that you are every bit as lovely as I was told. You remind me very much of someone I once knew. Perhaps I'll tell you about her sometime."
"Bronach is a historian," Jenner said. "I imagine he could tell you far more about Adoria than any of our elders, myself included."
Bronach nodded. "If you could stand the company of an old man, grumpy and sardonic in his ways, then I will teach you anything you wish to know, child. All you need to do is ask."
Ariana was intrigued by him, relieved by his humor and his humanity. "I'll take you up on your offer. Just remember that you made it."
Michael leaned back relaxed in his chair. "Bronach has begun the restoration of the Saeculum, which I have no doubt you'll find interesting. It might eventually lead to excavating the old world, but we'll see what comes of this first."
Bronach eased a chair out beside them, settling himself against the high, thin back — fashioned so for those whose wings would fall to either side. "In due time we'll tell you all about it, though I cannot imagine why a spry young thing like yourself would bother with dusty, overgrown ruins." He appeared well aware that such a choice of words would do nothing but pique her interest all the more.
"Spry indeed, my bones say otherwise. I feel well over a thousand years old these days."
Bronach's face stilled. His rounded eyes and bulbous little nose paused only long enough for her to catch it. "My deepest sympathies for your loss, this cannot be easy to bear." He looked to Michael then. "Have you taken her to the Garden of Dedication?"
Michael shook his head, "I haven't. Too much has been weighing on our list of considerations lately. Palingard will be dedicated with a statue of its own sometime in the coming months. I think you'll be pleased. Every village and city has been — "
Ariana abruptly rose from her seat, the legs of the chair screaming against the polished floor. She didn't intend to be rude, but the finality of his words fell on her like a hundred stones.
Memorial. Remembrance. Sara is not lost! Bella is not lost!
She started to explain her sudden change of emotion, but found herself without the words. As she turned to leave the dining hall, she heard Michael start after her and Jenner's voice telling him to let her go.
As she walked deeper into the keep, down one corridor to the next, she sobbed. She missed Bella and everything else about home. She missed the smells and the sounds, and all the things that she'd longed so desperately to escape. Michael had meant no harm in his questions, nor Bronach in his teasing. But Adorians and the few from Middengard who were raised in Adoria didn't seem to really understand humans. Everything in Adoria was a matter of principle alone. Things in the human world weren't always that simple. She couldn't explain why she kept thinking about Garren, but whatever the reason, she couldn't just shut off her emotions. He had released her. The look in his eyes, both that day and in the visions where she'd encountered him since, wasn't malicious, wasn't evil. His hold on her was far from being in her control, even had she wanted it to be.
She wandered through halls and rooms of various sizes and purposes, until she came to a heavy wooden door in the corner of a broad gathering area. She was pleased to discover it was a library.
She took a lit candle from the hall and carried the flame to the sconces that were fastened along the wall, revealing immense bookshelves and several generous chairs. She pulled a couple books out, flipped through the pages, surprised to see there wasn't much dust on any of them. Adorians, she gathered, were enthusiastic about education. It made her feel a bit lacking. She remembered hearing about Sara's mother and father, who'd gone off to school in Ruiari years before Sara was born. Ariana's father had told her those schools were no longer in existence, having been turned into orphanages, or training camps for human soldiers. The humans had made an effort to protect themselves — it just hadn't held a candle to the forces of the Laionai.
She ran her hands along the shelves, feeling the bindings of the books. They were deep with artistry, metals woven into the trim and decorative designs embossed into the leather. She was so involved with inspecting them that she wasn't paying attention and ran into a rolling ladder that was attached to the wall. It made a loud squeal as it was jarred to life. Startled, she stepped back, only to bump into something else behind her. She turned to see not what she'd run into, but who; a very well-built, pleasing to the eyes,who.
"Forgive me, my Lady. I didn't mean to frighten you." He was tall like her brother, but had skin that more closely resembled Duncan's, tanned enough to give him a healthy glow, his hair a light brown color, with just a hint of auburn to it. He seemed to be about her age, or maybe a few years older. He leaned against the bookcases with a smug grin on his face.
She found herself blushing as she realized that she was staring at him. "You should feel honored, I don't frighten easily."
"So I hear." He laughed. "I'm Jareth. And I do believe I am the last one in Adoria to make your acquaintance." He took her hand and brought it to his lips, bowing his head as he did so.
She would have to at least give Adorian males credit for being a lot more civilized than any of the men in her village, who were barbaric in comparison. "Well, Jareth, I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't address me so formally." As soon as she said the words, she heard a noise that sounded very much like a dragon, which made no sense until she looked down and saw that it was indeed a kind of dragon. A small creature with jade green scales and a plum-colored chest sat at Jareth's feet. He crowed as he peered up at her.
Jareth gestured to his little friend. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce you. This is Cryx. He's my faithful companion, useless in the most important of assignments, but comforting in the least of them. He tends to have a bit of a temper, so he'll pitch a fit if you don't pet him. And the bit about formality — understood."
She smiled, having never heard of or seen a drago
n so small before. She leaned down to pat him on the head. He cooed, leaning his head into her hand so she could more effectively reach behind his pointy ears.
"Wherever did you find him?" Cryx thumped his foot on the floor as she found a ticklish spot below his chin.
"Being such a ferocious beast, he scared off my prey on a hunt several years ago and has been my ward ever since." He knelt to see Ariana eye to eye. "I've been close to your brother for a long time. He took me as his student years ago, when we were still at the Iidolis. Eventually my antics won him over and he became more than a mentor, he became my friend. I introduced him to my sister."
"Genny." Ariana was excited to be able to follow a conversation.
Jareth was surprised. "Yes, Michael doesn't waste any time does he? So you must already know that Jenner's my father?"
Ariana nodded her head. "Indeed, and I've had the pleasure of meeting your mother as well. They're both lovely. So, am I to assume, since you said Michael was your mentor, that you're commissioned in some way?"
"Yes, I'm one of his commanders. Caedmon and I are his closest advisors, though you haven't met him yet, either. He's scouting Eidolon's outer regions." He rose, offering his hand to her. "Your hands are freezing."
She didn't get a chance to respond. The door opened and Duncan rushed into the room, interrupting them.
"They've returned. Michael has requested our immediate presence." Duncan was out of breath, his words striking the air with a vehemence that was almost tangible.
Jareth started toward the door. "Louthai ere erothim, tay callesto — "
"Hold your tongue lad, she speaks Adorian. I'll leave it up to Michael to decide what he wants to disclose. Forgive me, Ariana, we must go, I can't tell you anything just yet."
She nodded, not wanting to test his patience by pressing for information.
Jareth looked over at Cryx, who'd made himself comfortable beside Ariana. "He knows the way back to the main hall and can find his way back out to my cottage from there. Do you mind him staying with you for a bit? He doesn't really like to be alone." Ariana nodded. Why not, she was already caretaker to one beast, why not two?
"I have someone who might like to meet him," she whispered to herself as the men's boots echoed down the corridor and into the main hall.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE ONI
Michael sat in an ornately carved wooden chair near a fireplace at the back of the room. His boots tapped erratically on the floor as he waited for everyone to arrive. Only five elders, who were of the bloodline to the original monarchs of Adoria, were present for these meetings.
Caedmon sat beside Michael, his face a perfect reflection of his grief. He and his men had arrived nearly an hour before, the three dead among them having been buried in an unmarked grave where they had fallen. Michael had been shocked to see Caedmon arrive back so soon, but was more alarmed at Garren's newfound abilities. It compounded the fears he was already wrestling with after the ordeal with Ariana. He was caught up in his thoughts when Duncan and Jareth entered the room.
"What's happened?" Jareth asked as Michael stood to greet them.
"I will let Caedmon describe the encounter to you."
Caedmon stood, wiping a hand over his forehead. "Garren was waiting for us in the woods when we emerged from Adoria's northernmost border. Before we were even aware of his presence, three of our men were slain. Once we confronted him, Riedar rushed him against my orders and, without touching him in any way or so much as moving a hand, Garren scarred Riedar's face beyond recognition."
"Did you not hear him coming?" Duncan asked. Michael could tell he was trying to put the question delicately, but it offended Caedmon anyway.
"Do you think that I'd have three dead Adorians if we had?" Caedmon approached Duncan. "I'm in no mood for your mouth, Braeden, not tonight, not — "
Duncan placed his hands on Caedmon's shoulders. "Friend, I meant no offense." Caedmon shrugged off Duncan's gesture, and slumped back down into his chair, holding his head up with one hand, the other held across his chest.
Michael closed his eyes, drowning out the voices of the elders as they argued back and forth about what their course of action ought to be. Garren had always been a sage fighter, knowing Michael's next move before he made it.
"Perhaps the time of the Oni has come," Michael offered.
"If you believe this," Jenner asked, "then why did you spare his life when you had the chance to take it from him?"
Michael swallowed hard. He simply couldn't answer that question. "I chose to be merciful to him out of honor. He was pinned to the ground without arms. Hardly the demise I'd intended." Michael rose to pace the outer edges of the room.
"Your hatred of Garren does not change his fate," Jenner said. "It makes no difference what dishonor or accolades he has received from any mortal. The Oni is mentioned as being among the souls — Garren is Ereubinian — he cannot be the Oni, for the soul of his lineage was sold for power. Have you forgotten the history of these things?"
Michael cocked his head sideways. "Have you forgotten the wounds inflicted upon my sister as she slept?"
As Michael said this, Jareth raised his head, having been staring at the floor. "What happened to your sister?"
"Ariana's been seeing visions of Garren. In a dream this afternoon, she was scathed by Moriors, her back ravaged with claw marks. It took Jenner to pull her from its hold on her."
Michael gave his words a moment to sink in before he continued. "Though the realm of man has begun to diminish, we are not free from our duty and obligation to be its steward. Keeping this in mind, we're of no use to them if we place ourselves in peril."
Jenner objected, as Michael had expected. "My Lord, the divide has never failed us. You must have faith in its hold. And while Ariana and Riedar's injuries are cause for concern, they hardly constitute bringing all of Adoria into open warfare with Eidolon."
Michael flexed his wings. "Duncan, are you willing to reunite your men?" He'd hoped to hear his father's closest friend come to his aid, but even Duncan, it seemed, had lost the will.
"I've tired of the human realm. They've done little in response to all that we have lost for their sake. Jenner's right; the divide has never failed us. No matter if Garren is the Oni or not, let Man save himself." Duncan sighed. "The Braeden can't aid you in this, whether you make it a matter of obedience or not."
"The elders," Jenner said, "would do everything allowed by law to prevent such a command. We cannot allow Adoria to wane in the shadow of Eidolon. Lead your own as you see fit, but we will send for our brethren still in Middengard to return home and a mandatory severance between the worlds will be decreed. For all others, we shall leave the permission to cross over to your discretion alone."
Jenner had risen from his seat and now faced Michael, one hand on his shoulder. Michael was stunned and by the look on his face, Jenner knew it. The council had clearly discussed this — without his presence.
Jareth came to Michael's side, looking his own father in the eye. "I'll stand beside you, regardless of Elder rule."
"I'm at the mercy of our Elders. The last thing this kingdom needs is division among its citizens." Michael paused, reining in his disappointment. "We have nothing left to discuss here."
Duncan followed him into the hall. "Don't be angry with me Michael. If you only understood…"
Michael stopped but didn't bother turning around. Regret dripped from Duncan's words, but it made no difference. "When the human realm ceases to exist, I would think your kind would mourn it most, and yet you fail it first. What else is there to understand?"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NOBLE BLOOD
Garren had been awake for several hours and lay staring at his ceiling, images of the girl running through his mind. He couldn't quite summon anger, his apprehension continuing from the night before. He rubbed his arm tenderly; the red marks had almost dissipated. He should have killed her when he had the chance and yet, as the words formed in his h
ead, he felt sick, his stomach knotting at the thought. He ran his hands through his hair.
"Enough," he murmured, rising from his bed to dress. When he'd finished, he made his way to the sanctuary.
It was empty. Black stones laid on the floors and walls. The cherry wood pews were inlaid with intricate white stone designs. The walls bore several large stained glass windows depicting scenes from when Ciara first entered Middengard. A likeness of Saint Erebus knelt in front of a large white dragon. When Ciara was shown in that form, her body was outlined in bright silver, her scales iridescent.
Garren began to whisper prayers as he approached the altar and knelt, feverishly reciting as many verses from the sacred epistles as he could. Suddenly, he jerked his head up. It had been a test. He looked around at the various depictions of Ciara, some human, some animal, and felt regret wash over him. He'd failed her. That had to be what was tormenting him.
He lay completely prostrate before the altar and was perfectly still, chanting a prayer of repentance. But while he'd started the prayer with conviction, he began to doubt his assumption more and more with every word that passed his lips. If she were indeed Ciara, it would certainly explain his affinity for her, but how could she have expected him to kill her? A picture briefly crossed his mind of his mouth touching hers and he recoiled. He squeezed his eyes tighter and tried to refocus himself. Trial or not, he'd failed both the Laionai and the Goddess by having mercy on an Adorian.
Did she not know she was Adorian?
It made no difference whether she'd been abandoned in the world of man or not, Garren argued with himself. Adorian blood still flowed through her veins.
I love but her and her alone. The words weighed as stones in his head. He could still see Tadraem's face as he'd said them.
"And what, my Lord, are you repentant of?"
Garren didn't move, convinced that he'd fallen so deep into his mind as to audibly hear his thoughts, until Tadraem stepped close enough to nudge him with the toe of his boot.
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