by Lelia Eye
Skye began to clean, pulling out the supplies tucked away for such a purpose and grumbling about how a bird as intelligent as Strix ought to be able to do his business in a more appropriate place. Strix refused to dignify his complaints with a response.
When Skye was done, he moved to stand in front of Tierra, who was seated at her desk. “Is there anything else, Your Majesty?”
She narrowed her eyes. “It is ‘Your Highness.’”
“Sorry, Highness.”
Tierra shot to her feet. Her face was red, but before she snapped at him, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, obviously trying to rein in her temper. Finally, she spoke to him in a well-controlled voice. “Stop being an idiot unless you wish to kiss the ground at my feet.”
That threat was actually more repulsive to Skye—who hated the floors of the Groundbreather castle on principle—than Tierra had likely thought, so he bit his tongue, waited a moment, and then asked formally, “Do you require something else from me, Your Highness?”
Rather than answer his question, she said, “I believe tonight was the first time you saw us dance to honor Terrain. What did you think? Was it not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?”
A hundred things flashed through Skye’s head at that moment. Some of them would have been acceptable to say. What actually came out of his mouth was not.
“My opinion? I just had to watch a bunch of ugly savages flailing under the moon . . . and all to praise a being who is but a shadow compared to the light emanating from the goddess of the world. Seeing as Terrain is a pathetic ant that hides beneath Celesta’s majesty, watching the manic worship of his followers is not exactly a sight I’d care to take with me back to the sky realm.”
Skye scarcely saw the hand that shot out at his face before it knocked him to the floor. Tierra was not that strong, but the sheer unexpectedness of the act caught him off-guard.
He sat there, looking up at her, not certain why he felt an odd sense of betrayal creep over him.
“That is enough!” she shouted. Her eyes were moist, and her voice was shaking. “You have finally crossed the line—my line! My people revere Terrain, and you will not dishonor him in such a fashion. Your goddess does not exist down here, and your Skychild philosophy is very much mistaken if it says that Terrain was ever beneath Celesta. When I am done with you, I will have you praying for Terrain to grant you mercy.”
Skye was not afraid when Tierra fetched the whip Wisteria had left in her room. He had not been afraid any of the other times he was beaten, and he knew Tierra’s strength would not match Wisteria’s. Yet he felt something not unlike fear and dread when the princess stood in front of him with the whip held in both her hands. She clenched the weapon so tightly her fists were white, and as she removed the hand holding the end of it, the strips of leather attached to the handle dropped to the floor with a dull thud.
“Take your shirt off,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.
He did not say anything. He simply raised his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. He held her gaze for a moment. Something about the tears glistening on her cheeks caused a tightness in his chest. Knowing there was nothing to be done, he turned and presented his back to her, pressing his hands to the floor, still in a seated position.
When the first blow fell, he did not make a single noise. But she did. With each crack of the whip on his skin, she gave a sharp intake of breath. Somehow, he could not shake the feeling that his stubbornness was stripping her of her innocence.
The blows came slowly, as if she had to build up her resolve each time before bringing the leather down on his back. He wanted to turn, to see the look on her face, yet he felt real fear at what he might find there. And so he began to count the blows as they fell, trying to take his mind off the fiery bite of the leather on his back. But there was no escape into apathy this time, even with Tierra’s lesser strength.
For some reason he could not understand, this beating seemed to hurt more than all of the other times combined.
In an instant, Celesta loved the heart of the Groundwalker who had saved one of her flying creatures, and she cast away the mist that surrounded her and revealed her form to him.
The Groundwalker fell to his knees and cried, “O Goddess! I am but a humble Groundwalker. Pray, what you would have me do?”
“I admire your heart,” said she, “and I wish to become better acquainted with you. Tell me, what is your name?”
“Sterling,” said he, his head bowed.
She smiled at him and repeated, “Sterling. It is a good name. Return to your people. We shall meet again anon.”
—The Book of Celesta
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Reconciliation
When Tierra dragged herself from her room the following day, it was to a bright and cheery morning which was seemingly bare of all thoughts of regret. Indeed, given what she had been told by her mother—not to mention the taunting she had endured from her sister—she knew there was precious little remorse expressed in the Groundbreather castle by any of the royal family.
The truth of the matter was that Tierra had not slept well the previous night, and she knew the reason for it. Her mother would have applauded her actions had she known of them, and Wisteria would have given her as little credit as she ever had. But though Tierra knew that her family would have viewed her actions as being justified, it still felt wrong to have reacted in the manner she had.
But why had he said those things? He had to have known she would be angered by his unrestrained insolence and the downright insulting nature of what he had said. Why was he unable to control himself? The Skychildren were contemptuous of Terrain and the Groundbreathers, and she knew the gods themselves had been at odds when they had been living among their charges. Yet it did not necessarily follow that their children would still behave in such a manner millennia after their gods had left them. Why had Skye insulted that which he knew was important to her, even if it held no meaning to him? And why did his words cut so deeply when she knew what his opinions were, even without him voicing them?
She had no answers. What she did have was a gnawing pain which told her that though she had been justly offended by Skye’s words and deeds, she had responded in a manner that was as shameful as what the Skychild had done. There was no moral high ground to be found in the situation.
“So, you finally did it.”
Tierra jumped in surprise and spun around to glare at River, who stood there grinning at her, completely unrepentant.
“Did what?” Tierra asked crossly.
“Why, you took your slave in hand and made certain he understood his place. You should not have waited so long, Tierra. He was coming pretty close to doing something your mother could not ignore.”
With a groan, Tierra closed her eyes briefly before opening them and glaring once more at her cousin. “How do you know what happened?”
“I wanted to ask you something last night, so I came by and heard you from outside your rooms,” River said. “I would have made my presence known, but I decided that this victory should be yours alone.”
“Victory?”
River regarded her as though she was mentally deficient. “Yes! You finally seem to understand you are a princess, and you are behaving accordingly. I believe that is something to celebrate.”
“I am behaving like a princess?” Tierra exclaimed. “So you think that I should behave like Wisteria, do you? I should be contemptuous of everyone around me? I should make the lives of everyone around me a living hell, like she does? Should I beat my slave for any perceived misbehavior and enjoy it like she does?”
Eyes widening at Tierra’s diatribe, River put her hands up defensively. “Tierra, it is evident he deserved it.”
“Did he? Are you aware of what he did to deserve getting beaten yet again?”
“Since you did it, I cannot imagine it was anything but deserved.”
Disgusted—as much
with herself as with River—Tierra turned away. She was ashamed that she had lashed out at her closest friend, much as she had with Skye. If becoming more like her sister was what she needed to do in order to be a proper princess, then Tierra wanted no part of it.
“Tierra, what did he do?” River asked.
She would have turned away without another word had the other woman’s voice not been filled with compassion. River would be unable to understand, but she was a good friend and not prone to immediately dismissing Tierra the way that her mother and Wisteria did.
“It does not matter,” Tierra replied firmly. Then she began to walk toward the dining hall, where the nobility generally took their meals. “I will not become something that I hate.”
River seemed to understand that Tierra did not wish to discuss the matter any further, and she kept silent as she followed. Tierra was thankful for her cousin’s forbearance. She would need to come to terms with her actions on her own, and River could not be of any assistance with that.
Tierra’s mood only worsened when she entered the dining hall, where her mother and sister were eating. Upon seeing Tierra, Queen Sequoia rose and approached, enfolding Tierra in an embrace and saying warmly, “Good morning, my beloved daughter.”
“Mother,” Tierra replied.
Either Sequoia did not register Tierra’s lack of enthusiasm, or she simply ignored it. “Well done, Tierra. I knew that you had it in you to act as you should. Wisteria was right. Apparently, you just needed a bit of a push.”
Wisteria’s sneer only made Tierra’s poor mood darken. No doubt Wisteria had been the one to plant the idea of Tierra marrying that repulsive baron in their mother’s head, hoping that Tierra would fail to please Sequoia and end up in a miserable situation for the rest of her life.
“The slave’s discipline is now in your hands,” Sequoia continued. “Remember to be firm with him, and you should have no further trouble. You have shown him you are determined, and he will respect you.”
After a final embrace, Sequoia returned to her breakfast, leaving Tierra with River, who had not dared to utter a word through the entire conversation. There was, Tierra supposed, a benefit to what had happened the previous evening. Given what her mother had said, Tierra doubted that anyone else would take Skye in hand unless he did something egregious to merit it. And Tierra was determined to help him avoid notice from now on. Her departure from her principles would at least save Skye from further pain. For some reason, the thought did not provide the comfort it should have.
Tierra sat down to breakfast with River, but the food did not sit well in her stomach. Each bite was forced, and every time she felt her mother’s approving gaze on her, it only made her stomach churn more. The fact that other Groundbreathers approved of Tierra’s actions made the situation that much worse, for it seemed to indicate that all of Skye’s charges concerning her people were nothing but the truth.
When at last she felt another bite would only induce her to empty her stomach of its contents, Tierra stood and excused herself, saying she felt unwell and wanted to rest in her room.
River watched her with concern, but she said only, “Let me know if you want company, and I will gladly come to you.”
Tierra nodded and left the dining hall. She thought she could feel her sister’s sullen gaze on her back, but Wisteria’s opinion did not concern her. There was only one person she wanted to see in that moment, and she feared he would never want to look at her again.
Once she was holed up in her room, she simply sat there, staring into nothingness. Strix gazed at her a trifle plaintively, as if he could wheedle treats from her with nothing more than a pathetic trill or two, but she could not find the energy to even fetch a few nuts for him.
What had happened the previous night had robbed Tierra of something. And though she could not fathom exactly what had been lost, she felt it was now beyond her reach forever. Its loss was intrinsic to her very self . . . and would undoubtedly haunt her for the rest of her days. Not knowing what it was made it that much worse.
She was unsure how long she sat there before she heard a knock that startled her from her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she conjured up the strength to bid her visitor to enter. She never expected to see Skye hobble in.
He shut the door behind him and took a few steps forward before just standing there and waiting, not meeting her eyes. His face was withdrawn and haggard, and she felt an almost physical pain in her chest at the sight of him. He must have had a rough night since she had not given him any salve to heal his wounds.
She wondered at his sudden appearance for a moment, only to realize upon further thought that he had probably been sent to her at Sequoia’s request so that Tierra could either gloat or assign him menial tasks to ensure he suffered even more.
But she could not do either of those things. She stood and walked toward him. His mouth was in a grim line, and he still refused to look at her. She hesitated only a moment before flinging herself at him and throwing her arms around his waist.
He flinched at the movement—she had likely hurt his back with the jolt—but she felt incapable of letting go. Crying into his shirt, she said, “I am so sorry for what I did, Skye . . . . There is no excuse for what happened last night . . . . I just . . . My m-mother was going to marry me off to this awful man if I did not . . . show that I . . . that I had some sort of p-power over you. And you . . . you made me s-so mad, and . . . I am s-sorry, Skye.” Her sobs had built up to such a level that she could not speak anymore.
Skye had been stiff when she first embraced him, but he gradually began to relax. He did not hug her back, but he did not pull away either.
At last, he began to speak, though his words came out as a mumble. “Look, it’s all right. Don’t cry. I know what your mother and your sister are like. And I’m . . . well . . . It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
Tierra knew that was the closest to an apology that she was going to get from the proud young man. And since she had not believed she deserved one, the admission touched her.
She pulled back from his shirt, her vision blurry. She knew touching him was forbidden, yet she could not bring herself to remove her arms from around him.
He gave her a half-smile, and she felt her emotions swell all that much more.
“I wish you were not a slave,” she whispered, not quite certain what she meant by that.
Her breathing was ragged from crying, and she probably looked like a mess, but it did not matter. Skye did not hate her . . . and that was all that mattered.
Skye gently extricated himself from her embrace. “I won’t always be a slave. One day, I’ll escape from here, and you’ll never see me again.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes and gave him a bleary smile. “I cannot let you do that. If you escape, I will never hear the end of it from my mother and sister.”
He gave her a grin in return, and that lifted her spirits even more than his half-apology had. “Then we know where we both stand.”
“Yes, I suppose we do,” she said. She stepped away from him and retrieved the healing cream.
He held a hand out for it with a ghost of a smile, but she shook her head. “No,” she said. “I hurt you, and I want to be the one to help you feel better.”
His brow furrowed, and he searched her face. He must have seen the stubbornness there, as he dipped his head in acknowledgment, removed his shirt, and turned around.
Tierra thought there was an inherent vulnerability to the action not unlike a garm exposing its wounded belly. An odd sort of trust had sprung up between her and Skye, and it was that trust which allowed him to accept assistance from her despite his titanic pride.
She put some cream in one of her palms and moved closer to him. Biting her lip, she stared at his skin. The sight of every welt, bruise, and abrasion caused her heart to cry out. Tears stung her eyes again, but she pressed a cool hand to his flesh and began rubbing the cream down the hard
planes of his back.
He exhaled in relief when the cream began to do its work, and as the tension in his muscles started to fade, she found herself concentrating less on her task and more on the fair skin beneath her fingertips. Who would have known that Skychild flesh would be so soft and warm? As she traced the skin around his shoulder blades, she felt as if the tips of her fingers were burning.
When she finally stepped away, her face was flushed. She could scarcely believe she had touched a Skychild in such an intimate manner. If her mother ever found out, Tierra would be disowned in a heartbeat, and what would happen to Skye did not even bear consideration. For that matter, if Skye had realized that Tierra was lingering in her work, it could have destroyed their relationship beyond repair.
“All . . . all right,” she said, swallowing. She hoped he would not notice her discomposure.
Skye, seemingly none the wiser, stooped to pick up his shirt, and he turned toward her after putting it on. “Thanks, Princess.”
“You are welcome,” she whispered. “And if I . . . if I am unkind to you . . . and I say things which make you angry in front of others . . . I do not mean it.” She inhaled deeply. “I wish . . . I wish you were not a slave.”
“Yes,” he said. “I think you might have mentioned that.”
The sight of her child filled Celesta with joy. As he grew, she saw him frolicking along the void in search for a place to play. And so she decided to bring him the happiness he wanted.
She created the heavens, and Terrain ran through them and laughed.
She created the stars, and Terrain threw them and sprinkled them across the heavens.
She created the sun, and Terrain warmed himself by it and marveled at its light.
But when Celesta created the moon, Terrain frowned upon it.
