Whispers of Heaven (Saga of the Rose Book 1)

by Krista Rose

  It was only when Brannyn climbed unsteadily to his feet, his eyes glazed and determined, that I realized we had drank far more than we were used to.

  “Brannyn, no.” I stood, already knowing what he planned. The delicate silk curtains decorating the room suddenly looked very threatening. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Relax, ‘Lyx,” he slurred. “I’m gonna be careful.”

  Lanya also rose, her face calm and serene as she approached. “Brannyn-”

  “I practiced at the Camp. On solo runs.” He held up his hand, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. “Just watch.” Fire blossomed along his fingers, spiraling into itself until it formed a tiny dragon of yellow-orange flame, which crawled over his hand and shot tiny puffs of smoke into the air.

  The priests and priestesses gasped, then applauded as the tiny dragon bowed to them before vanishing back into my brother’s hand- though the flames, I noticed, did not go all the way out.

  Good enough, Brannyn. I rubbed my hands on my pants nervously. Now put the rest of it away.

  I don’t want to. He was smiling, swaying in place as he gazed at his hand. I want to play with the fire. I never get to play. I always have to be careful.

  Because fire is dangerous, I reminded him, wondering if I could jump across the table and brain him before things got too far out of hand.

  No, it’s not. Not unless I want it to be. He raised his hand, ready to prove his point in what I was certain would be a disastrous end to our evening.

  I winced, bracing myself.

  Lanya sighed. I’m sorry, Brannyn.

  His eyes closed, and the flames vanished from his skin as he sank to the floor, his loud, raucous snores filling the hall. The priestesses gasped.

  “Is he alright?” Alailia asked, concerned.

  I attempted a smile, feeling weariness pull at me. “He’s fine. Just a bit too much to drink, is all.”

  Nephele was gazing at Lanya again, as she had done when we’d arrived, but whatever thoughts she had she kept well-hidden. She nodded briefly to me. “My apologies. You must all be tired, and it is getting quite late. It is rare that we are able to entertain here, so far from the towns and cities, and so we tend to get a little carried away.”

  It was a dismissal, and white-robed initiates immediately appeared at my elbows, taking my hands to lead me back to my room. I watched two boys struggling to lift Brannyn in a somewhat dignified manner, until a priest simply stepped forward and hoisted him over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and carried him from the room.

  Melore was leading Lanya from the table, and Reyce was hemmed in by more initiates, begging him for stories about what it was like to be a knight as they escorted him from the room. I was distracted by watching them, and so nearly forgot myself, jerking myself to a halt just in time.

  I bowed deeply to Nephele. “Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace.” Words, not my own, rose within me, spilling out into the room before I could stop them. “You honor your Goddess well with your gifts.”

  She blinked at me, for the first time since our arrival looking truly surprised. But the hands on my elbows were insistent, and I was very tired, and so I was ushered from the room before she could respond.

  I was led back to the room I had bathed in. Most of the lanterns had been extinguished, leaving it dimly lit, though I could still make out the shape of the bed. My weariness pulled me toward it, oblivious to the helping hands or even the presence of the initiates as I stripped off my clothes and crawled into it, sinking into the soft pillows. I felt someone lift a blanket to cover me against the chill, and then I knew no more.

  REYCE

  I could not sleep. I tried to, tossing and turning in the strange, soft bed, but it was hopeless. Too many thoughts whirled through my head, pulling at me and making me restless. At last I gave up, rising to dress before making my way quietly into the hall.

  The Temple was different at night. The halls were dark, their lanterns extinguished, and the atrium felt empty and hollow without its clustering of red-robed priests. I made my way down the stone hallway at the back of it, until I came to the chamber of the Goddess.

  She really is pretty, I thought, staring up at the marble statue of Vanae. Not as pretty as my Lady, though. I thought of the Lady’s golden freckles, her brilliant red-gold hair held in place by delicate gold chains, her green eyes soft and warm as she looked at me. But then, no one is as pretty as my Lady.

  The sconces flickered, their flames dancing as if with sudden laughter. I blinked, startled, and backed away.

  “You amuse Her.”

  I spun, and found Nephele standing behind me a few feet away. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “You are not intruding.” She sat on a bench, and gestured to the seat beside her. “I come here when I cannot sleep, either. I find peace here, and sometimes I can hear the Goddess speak to me.”

  I sat beside her, fascinated despite myself. “What does she say?”

  “A great many things. She has told me of the wonders of a flower blooming on the edge of a great volcano. She has told me of the birth of a star, so distant its light has yet to reach us. She has told me of lovers sharing their first innocent kiss, laden with the promise of a passion that will defy even death.” She smiled, her eyes dark with secrets. “She told me of you.”

  “Me?” My mouth dropped open in surprise. “Why would She talk about me?”

  “You are different, are you not?” It was an echo of the Lady’s first words to me, and I wondered why this priestess would repeat them. “You have a grand Destiny, Reyce Rose. I am not permitted to see it, but I do see the glory of it, shining off of you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.” She looked up at the marble statue and sighed. “I can tell you one thing, a truth you should know for your journey. That which is right is not always good.”

  I made a face. “I don’t understand that, either.”

  “Neither do I.” She looked back at me, reaching out to stroke my cheek. “You should get some sleep.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her I wasn’t tired, and yawned widely. Suddenly, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open. “Can I stay here for a while?”

  She smiled and motioned, and I curled up on the bench to lay my head in her lap. I felt her stroke my hair tenderly, and within moments was sound asleep.

  KRYSSA

  I dreamed of death and blood, and the Crone’s screams, trapped inside my head. The floor beneath my face was slick with tears, and Father’s form breathed darkness in a circle of flames. The Darkling Prince held a knife to my throat, his eyes filled with madness as he laughed at me, and pushed me so that I fell. Fingers clawed into my mind, filling me with pain, and I was drowning in shadows.

  Below the shadows waited something, something worse, something horrifying-

  I woke, soaked in cold sweat, unable to move and deafened by the thundering noise of my own heartbeat. The room was dark, and I did not know where I was.

  Someone’s arm slid around my waist, comforting and warm against the strangeness. I sighed, calming, a smile rising to my lips.

  “Vitric,” I murmured, and slipped once more into sleep.

  BRANNYN

  26 Alune 578A.F.

  I woke with a blinding headache.

  I moaned, aching. I wondered if my sword had been left by the bed, and if I could behead myself with it without moving. My mouth tasted of sand, and I couldn’t feel one of my hands. Gently, my bones feeling as if they were made of fragile glass, I levered myself onto my elbows, and moaned again.

  “My lord, you need to drink this.”

  I cracked open my lids toward the sound of the voice, and flinched as light pierced into my swollen eyes. A young initiate knelt beside my bed, his face amused beneath his white mask. He lifted a cup to my lips, and cool, life-affirming water flooded into my mouth. I gulped noisily, heedless of what I spilt. When the cup was empty, he refilled it from a silver ewer,
and I swallowed that as well, sighing in relief as the throbbing in my head eased.

  I sat up, wincing as my hand prickled, regaining feeling. The sheet I had been lying under slid from my chest to my lap, and I blinked, confused by my nudity. I had no memory of undressing the night before. In fact, I had no memory of coming to bed at all. The last thing I remembered was the wine burning in my blood, and the heady feel of fire upon my skin, and-

  “Gods.” I grimaced as my own voice made my head ache. I had been showing off. I had created a dragon of flame, which had crawled over my hand, beautiful and unrestrained by my normal caution. I had wanted to create a life-size one, Alyxen’s words of warning like an annoying buzz in the back of my mind. I remembered nothing else, and prayed I hadn’t hurt anyone.

  “It’s a terrible punishment, isn’t it?”

  I jerked, regretting the movement when the room tilted, disorienting. Nephele reclined on a bench near the bed, her eyes amused behind her golden mask. The lanterns reflected the oils on her dusky skin, so that, for a moment, I thought she was glowing, a nimbus of light surrounding her lithe form.

  “You- Your Grace.” I clutched the sheet around my waist, trying to cover myself. “Forgive me.”

  “Feeling a little indisposed this morning?” she asked, and I nodded, miserably. “I would truly be surprised if you weren’t. The initiates told me you drank at least two bottles of my best Valorian red last night.”

  I winced. “I am sorry for that, Your Grace.”

  She waved away my apology. “I can always get more wine. Those who seek the blessings of our Goddess are very generous with their gifts. I am more concerned with your punishment.”

  “Punishment?” I repeated, feeling both nervous and foolish. I wished desperately for my clothes.

  “Vanae blesses us with the joys of life, but only in moderation. Those who would indulge in excess, who would squander her gifts selfishly, are often punished for it.” She raised a brow. “Do you not feel punished?”

  My head felt as if a god was driving an arrow through it. By hand. I gritted my teeth. “I feel very punished, Your Grace.”

  “You have suffered much,” she murmured, rising from the bench to slide gracefully into the bed beside me. She reached up to press cool hands against my face, and I nearly whimpered as the gentle touch began to relieve the pain in my skull. “Destiny is often heedless of the cost of following its Design.”

  My eyes closed, and I leaned into her hands. “Your Grace?”

  “It has been a very long time since our Temple accommodated a Firemage.”

  Her voice was so soft, I almost missed the implication of her tone. “Firemage?” Frowning, I opened my eyes to look at her. “I can’t be a Firemage, my lady.”

  Her head tilted, though her hands continued to lightly massage my scalp. “Then what are you?”

  “I’m just-” What was I? Could I be a Firemage, like out of the stories that Janis used to read to us when we were children? But no, those men and women had been heroes, wielding their magic for the good of the world. I was no hero, no savior of the world. I had never believed that we were the Gods’ chosen. I was simply too selfish to be a champion for good.

  Marla’s face swam before me, and I pushed it from my thoughts. Much too selfish.

  “I am just a man with a talent for fire, Your Grace,” I replied at last. “I cannot even control it very well. It doesn’t make me a mage.”

  “A talent for fire.” Her voice, rich and sweet as honey, sounded amused. “That is certainly an interesting way to describe your performance last night in my hall.”

  I winced. “Did I burn something? If I hurt anyone-”

  “You caused no harm,” she interrupted, dismissing my concerns with a shrug of her shoulders, “though I believe you have Lanya to thank for that.” Her eyes were dark and serious as she stared into mine. “You need training. You need to learn to control this talent. Or the consequences could be much more dire the next time you drink. Which I would recommend you not do, if it provokes you to grandstand.”

  I blinked. “Your Grace?”

  “Control is everything.” Her hands slipped from my face, and she stood, slim and beautiful. “When you are ready for training, you should seek out the Lady Elodie, in the Allun Temple of Mejares.”

  “The Allun Temple?” I was beginning to feel brain-addled, though I realized the ache in my head had vanished. It was only her presence that left me feeling slow and stupid.

  She smiled, and cupped my face in her palms, leaning down to brush a kiss against my lips. The contact sent a bolt of desire through me, so sharp I gasped. She was still smiling as she straightened, her eyes mysterious and alluring behind her mask. “Control is everything, Brannyn.”

  I swallowed, watching wide-eyed as she walked to the door, her hips swaying provocatively beneath her robe. Lust scorched me, hot and heady, my skin burning as she opened the door and slipped into the hall beyond it. The door closed quietly behind her.

  I swore, ignoring the startled squeak of the forgotten initiate as I I grabbed the ewer by my feet and poured its contents directly over my head. The cold water soaked me, and the sheets.

  But it cooled my blood so that I no longer feared catching fire against my will. Steam hissed from skin, rising in a cloud around me, and I sighed as I set the ewer down. The initiate was goggling at me, his mouth agape, and I tried to smile at him.

  Control is everything.

  Mejares was a long, long way to go, but perhaps I should try, after all.

  LANYA

  “You should wake now, Lanya.”

  I growled, and buried my head further into the pillows. Pushing all of my exhaustion into Brannyn had left me wide-eyed and awake until nearly dawn. I had fallen asleep at last, and the comfort of being warm and dry and well-fed left me lethargic, unwilling to venture from the bed.

  Someone poked my ribs, and I shifted enough to glare at Melore through one eye. She was bright-eyed behind her mask, her robe immaculate despite having spent all of the night before reclining on the bench beside my bed, talking to me. I wondered if she had slept at all, and doubted it.

  “You should wake up,” she repeated.

  I grumbled, but rolled over and hoisted myself upright. The covers slipped, but my nudity no longer bothered me in front of Melore; she had only laughed at my weak attempt at modesty the night before when she’d undressed me for bed. If the Gods intended for us to hide our beauty behind clothing, then why are we born naked?

  It was a tantalizing concept, and I was thrilled by the illicit freedom of it. Even in my exhaustion, the feel of silk sheets sliding across my bare skin was decadent. I resolved to myself that one day I would possess my own room like this, and always sleep unclothed.

  Melore grinned at me, and stroked the frizzled mane of my hair as she handed me a cup of warm, strong-smelling dark liquid. I sniffed it, the pleasing odor of something like earth and hazelnuts waking me a little more. “What is it?”

  “It’s called kaffe. Nephele has it imported from Tante for us. It’s a little bitter, but the effects are amazing.”

  I took a swallow, then gasped, coughing. “A little bitter?”

  “It does take getting used to.”

  I made a face. “I’m not sure if I want to get used to it.”

  “You have a long day ahead of you, m’orin. You should drink. Think of it as medicine.”

  I nodded. The bitterness was already fading, leaving behind a pleasant aftertaste. I took another, more cautious sip as Melore stood to summon the initiates attending me.

  I gazed after her. Life in the Temple of Vanae was simple: they indulged in pleasure, honoring their Goddess by offering her the beauty of themselves, inside and out. Initiates were trained in the arts of hospitality, music, cooking, and games before taking their vows; though it had seemed odd to me at first that a god could find reverence in a well-cooked slice of veal or the rattle of a cup of dice, I could now think of no better way to revere the Goddess of Ple
asure.

  It was all so, well, beautiful, this extraordinary and exotic way of life, worshipping Vanae with both body and soul, to find worth and holiness in the simplest of happinesses- It made me long to stay within the paradise of the Temple walls, to join in the worship of this Goddess, and not venture anymore into the dark, unfriendly world beyond.

  But Nephele had named me Chosen, and I was still angry with the Gods of my Faith. If they had claimed us as their own, then they had failed to protect us as they used us as a weapon against the darkness. They had thrust hardships and pain and horror upon us until we broke beneath the weight of it. I could not stay in this Temple with such anger inside me. It would be a blasphemy when I was surrounded by those who worshipped with pure hearts, and I could not bring myself to take part in hypocrisy, no matter how tempting.

  And my strange, confusing new friendship with Melore made it very tempting.

  I sipped my kaffe. She was so assured, so confident in herself and her place in the world, but beneath I sensed a deep loneliness, and it called to me, pulling me to her. I wished I possessed her poise, her knowledge of herself. I had learned at last that she was Mejaren, which explained the copper sheen of her skin, but she had been raised in Val Estus as a foundling child at the Great Temple of the Faith, until finally being sent to serve the priesthood of Vanae at sixteen. Priests and priestesses of the Faith were honored and respected, spending their lives in worship of our Gods, so that the Darkness could never tempt them to turn against mortals as it had with the Elder Gods.

  It seemed a simple, wonderful life, and I envied her for it.

  The initiates who had bathed me the day before entered the room. Iselin kept her eyes downcast, but Eilon glanced up, his green eyes running over me before he caught my gaze. He blushed, and returned his gaze to the floor.

  I couldn’t help but smile, and finished my cup before setting it on the floor. The kaffe was buzzing through my blood so that I was, at the very least, alert, and no longer in danger of falling back asleep. I sighed and stood, letting the sheet fall as I walked to the tub for my bath.