Taryn placed her hand over the steam, turning it to ice. She shoved it down the hole until Rykoto shrieked. When the ice froze over the hole, she set a seal into it, filling it with wards and alarms should anyone disturb it. Next, she went to each column, placing more wards on them. No one would remove or replace a seal without her knowledge.
On the altar, nothing but ash remained of her father. With a soft breath, she blew it into the night to scatter across the land. Marble gleamed white against the flickering torches. It was as purified as she could make it.
“Sleep, Rykoto. Dream of your queen. Be at peace.”
Facing the altar, she held Ynyd Eirathnacht in front of her and curtseyed low, her left arm extended to the side. “Great Mother, Great Father, honor me this day by keeping your son safe in his chamber. You have placed me upon this path for a reason and while I don’t always understand your motives, I’ll do my best to fulfill my destiny.” She glanced at the empty columns. “I get the feeling the fun is just beginning. You sure know how to keep things interesting, don’t you?”
A chill whipped her ankles and she cleared her throat. “I should probably be going, but Ohlin? If that offer still stands about giving me and Rhoane your blessing? I think we could really use it.”
Warm air brushed her face and the visages of Nadra and Ohlin formed in front of her. Ohlin’s eyes twinkled as he took the sword from her hand. “I do believe you’re both ready. When all of this is settled, bring Rhoane to Dal Tara.”
“You can’t just do it here?”
“Your sister needs you more. The bonding can wait.”
They started to fade and Taryn called out, “How do we get to Dal Tara?”
Nadra grinned impishly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
She stepped from the temple into the cold air, filling her lungs with its crispness. Rhoane swept her into his arms, holding her against him.
“We heard Rykoto’s cries but were blocked from entering the temple.”
The irritation at the gods’ capriciousness dissolved beneath his powerful embrace. She’d missed those arms, that smell, him. “I’ll tell you what happened on the way, but we need to get Eliahnna and the baby out of this damned cold.”
Rhoane touched the crimson stain on her gown, sending his ShantiMari into her wound. She grimaced against the burn, holding her breath until he finished. Lightheaded, she swayed into him. Opening the wound had released some of the remaining poison into her bloodstream. “You can’t fly injured.”
“The dragon will finish healing me. We don’t have time to argue. Let’s go.” She didn’t know whether it was true, but hoped so.
“What do we tell the empress of her daughter’s death?” Faelara asked.
Baehlon answered when Taryn could not. “We tell her the truth. She came here to save her sister. For whatever reason, she kept the child a secret from everyone, even her mother. I think we need to respect that wish. It will do no good to bring Lliandra a grandchild she will have to send away since male children can’t inherit the Light Throne.”
If her twin brother had lived, he would’ve been raised by Valterys. The thought repulsed her.
“Then we’ll respect that tradition as well. I know the father. I’ll take the child to him,” Taryn said. Her sword glowed softly and the two dragons on the hilt shifted and fluttered their wings. The gems on the dragons sparkled in the moonlight: one silver, the other moss green. “I think Ynyd Eirathnacht wants us to swear an oath of silence about the child.”
Rhoane placed a tentative hand on the hilt of her sword. When he noticed the changed dragons, he gripped the pommel hard, his eyes glassy. Baehlon followed and then Faelara placed her hand on the sword. They swore an oath of silence while Taryn wrapped their hands in her ShantiMari to bind their word to Ynyd Eirathnacht.
The baby’s fingers and lips were a pale blue, even wrapped in Rhoane’s tunic. “We must hurry if the child is to survive.” Taryn handed Faelara the moonstone. “Tuck this inside, near his skin—it will warm him on the flight home.”
Faelara cradled the baby tightly to her chest with one hand and with the other, clutched at Eliahnna. They wound their power around her, securing her to the dragon’s body. Taryn took to the air with greater care than she had with just Faelara astride. The night was empty save for a snowy owl that ghosted through the sky close to the temple and then disappeared from their sight.
Chapter 45
THEY flew at breakneck speed, touching down just as the sky to the west was beginning to turn from deep indigo to rose and orange. Taryn’s sole focus was to get them home to warmth and safety. Rhoane instructed Baehlon to take Marissa’s body to the crypt while he and Faelara would return Eliahnna to her rooms before informing the empress what had transpired. Taryn agreed to meet them as soon as she’d delivered the baby to Armando.
Her lips touched his downy hair and she transported them through the city until she stood at the foot of the bed Tarro and Armando shared. They lay together, arms and legs entwined, a blanket covering most of their naked bodies.
She sent a gentle thought, waking them. They blinked against the light that emanated from her, looking first at each other, then her, incomprehension clouding their sleepy eyes.
Tarro jumped from the bed, covering himself with a pair of loose-fitting trousers, but Armando lay against the headboard, regarding her with the same sweet, brown eyes as the baby. Tarro knelt at her feet, stammering his apologies for not being prepared for a visit. She shushed him with assurances he’d done no wrong. Armando slid from the bed, moving toward her, his lean body naked and sensual. He stared at the bundle in her arms with a look of curiosity and confusion.
“I bring you a gift,” Taryn said. Her voice was like that of Nadra: light, musical, utterly not her own. “This is your son, Armando. His mother traveled beyond the realm with his birth so it comes to you to raise him.”
“I was not aware of any child of mine.” His look was apologetic to his lover. Armando took Tarro’s hand in his. “I am most careful in my work. I swear to you, I knew nothing of this.” He denied it, but in his thoughts lingered the hope it was true. He had long wished to give Tarro a child they could raise as their own, a token of his love that marked their relationship as special from his work. Armando stroked the baby’s curls, touching a finger to his cheek. “Who is the mother?”
“The child’s mother must never be named.” They shared a look that said he knew who it was. A pinch of disgust tightened his lips.
“Then he will have two fathers but no mother.” He unwrapped the baby from Rhoane’s silk tunic. “He will need proper attire and a wet nurse.”
The look of pure devotion in Tarro’s eyes tugged at something deep within Taryn. “You gave us a son.” He gently took the naked babe from his father’s arms. With a giggle, he said, “He certainly is yours.”
“Perhaps it’s not just the baby who needs proper attire.” Taryn avoided looking at Armando’s early morning erection.
Armando shrugged. “In my profession, clothing is a bother.” He slipped on a robe, tying it around his waist. For the baby, he procured a soft blanket, bundling him tightly. “Tarro, we have a son.” Tears welled in his eyes as he held the child close to his cheek, breathing in his scent.
“What will you name him?” Taryn asked. She stood on the floor and her voice was nearly her own.
They exchanged glances, saying in unison, “Percival.”
“A princely name,” Taryn said, approving. “I will see to it that you have a weekly stipend. This child will want for nothing as long as I’m alive.”
“We have plenty of coin to take care of our child,” Armando said defensively.
“Will you still work for Nena? I thought perhaps Percival would become your full-time job. If I can ease the burden for you only a little, it will gladden my heart.”
Armando regarded her with mixed emotions. “Did you know all along?”
“I only learned tonight the child was yours. We were led to
believe otherwise. May I visit him?”
Tarro answered immediately. “I’ll bring him to work on occasion and, of course, his Auntie Taryn may come here anytime to see him. He should know the woman responsible for giving us our dream.”
“My role in this must remain secret. Those who are aware of his birth have all sworn an oath of silence. If my enemies have knowledge of him, he can be used as a tool against me. Hide his birth well. Make up what story you will, but own that story until it becomes the fabric of truth in your life.”
“As you wish, Great Lady.” Armando inclined his head to her.
Taryn kissed her nephew’s warm cheek. “Be well, little Percival. I will always watch over you,mi carae.”
She left them as quickly as she’d come, speeding to the palace with a leaden heart.
The others were already in her mother’s sitting room when she arrived. “Taryn. My daughter, are you well? Rhoane and Faelara have explained everything to me. Is Valterys truly dead?” Lliandra’s tone gave away nothing and Taryn wasn’t sure whether she was happy or sad to lose her past lover.
“Yes, he’s dead.” The mask of Mari wavered with Lliandra’s grief, giving Taryn a glimpse into the struggle between her mind and heart.
“Poor, brave Marissa. She tried to save her sister and perished instead. Was there nothing you could do for her?”
The wind sucked from her and she staggered as if hit. “I’m sorry, Mother. I was busy with my father. Marissa’s death is unfortunate, but our sister is safe.”
Lliandra’s cold blue eyes stared at her. “Unfortunate? She is a hero, you stupid girl. Because of her, we still have an heir to the throne. If you hadn’t been so busy with your own ambitions, you could have protected Eliahnna better.”
Cold rage ran through Taryn, and she pulled away from her mother to stare out the window at the churning sea.
Faelara stepped between her and the empress. “Your Majesty, Taryn was trying to save Eliahnna. Had we been but a moment later, Valterys would have succeeded in his plans. Without Taryn’s help, we all would have perished.”
Lliandra ignored Fae’s plea. “You spent time with your father, yes? How do I know he didn’t turn you against me? Wasn’t it you just a fortnight ago who told me your sister was vile? How can you say that now? Without her help, you would have lost Eliahnna to that madman. To your father.”
Taryn clenched her fists, tamping down her power. “You have no idea what you’re saying, Mother. Your grief has clouded your judgment. I was not, nor would I ever be, aligned with my father or his horrid son. I serve Aelinae. Not the Light Throne, not the Obsidian Throne, not the Weirren throne. Aelinae.
“Tonight I saved an innocent girl from a brutal death. If you want to say Marissa should get the credit, that’s fine, but don’t you dare accuse me of things about which you have no knowledge.” She glared at Rhoane and Faelara before leaving Lliandra’s apartment without being dismissed.
She stormed to her apartments, ignoring the curious stares of servants and courtiers. Her maids scurried out of her way as she strode to her bedchamber. Their questions fell around her unanswered as she locked the door to her room and cradled Kaida in her arms. Gian crept to her bed, startling her. She’d forgotten she left him there before the party. She held up the blanket for him to crawl into bed with her and the grierbas. His small face was close enough she could see freckles on his nose that she’d not noticed before. He stroked her hair, murmuring quietly with his maimed mouth until her fury diminished and she fell into a fitful sleep. The last thing she recalled was Kaida asking the boy to move off her paw.
THE funeral for Marissa was held at sunset. The nobles and courtiers who only the previous day had gathered to celebrate Taryn’s birthing day now stood in silence as her sister’s body was carried in procession from the garden to the crypt. The ceremony had been short, with Lliandra’s high priest officiating.
Myrddin said a few words, as did several members of the Privy Council and other courtiers who were fond of the crown princess. Taryn chose to keep her mourning private, refusing the offer to speak.
Rhoane walked at her side, a grim expression on his face. Traces of the strain he’d been under were evident in the creases by his eyes. Marissa’s lies had nearly destroyed him, but Taryn saw joy returning with every smile he gave.
She slipped her hand into his; he was hers, forever. If the events at the temple had taught her anything, it was to never take a moment of life for granted. It could end with a single touch of misplaced ShantiMari.
As the lid slid shut on Marissa’s marble coffin, Lliandra sobbed quietly. Eliahnna wrapped her arms around their mother and Lliandra leaned her head against her daughter’s shoulder.
The girl regained consciousness shortly after they returned from the north, with no memory of what transpired at the temple. She’d been sipping wine in the garden when Valterys asked her to show him a particular flower that only bloomed on summer nights. At some point, Zakael joined them and the last thing she recalled was Zakael’s face as he smashed his fist into her temple. Eliahnna swore that would be the last time anyone struck her. She told Taryn to expect her in the training ring each morning.
Marissa’s death made Taryn the heir, but she refused the title. Eliahnna would make a far better empress. She just hoped it was what Eliahnna wanted.
Tessa had been distraught to learn of Eliahnna’s capture and then Marissa’s death. She’d tried so hard for so long to win her oldest sister’s approval, it had become a part of her life. Now that Marissa was dead, Tessa tried to deal with the fact she would never have her sister’s love.
Taryn took her hand, giving it a squeeze as they walked into the evening air. Birds sang in the trees and waves crashed on the rocks far below. Everything was as it should be, but for them, everything had changed.
Dinner that evening was a somber affair as they reminisced about the princess, as was the custom. Eventually, the conversation turned to other topics. The mood lightened with the court once again making merry with music and laughter. Lliandra sat on her great throne, observing the courtiers chatting about nothing to do with her daughter.
Taryn curtseyed low to the empress, showing her respect. “It pains me to see your grief, Mother.”
Lliandra regarded her with tired eyes. Her mask of Mari was set firmly in place, but underneath it, Taryn saw the ravaged skin of someone who’d been crying all day.
“I know you don’t share in this grief, daughter.” She held up a hand to stop Taryn’s denial. “Listen to them. They tell stories of a Marissa I never knew. They talk of happy memories, but are they of Marissa, or from their own lives? I must accept that part of what you’ve told me is true. I suppose I’ve always known it, but thought if I could love her enough, she would do right by my throne.”
“You raised her to be a ruthless ruler, Mother. Don’t pretend to be the victim here.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’m not the victim here, you are.”
“Like hell I am. If that’s what you think of me, then you don’t know me at all.”
“Lady Faelara told me in no uncertain terms how unfair to you I’ve been. I am unaccustomed to being spoken to so candidly. Except by you, of course. At first, I thought to punish her for the outburst, but your beloved cautioned me that if I were to harm Faelara, you would be quite vexed. It was a veiled threat, of course. You had, after all, just killed your father.”
“I didn’t kill Valterys. For reasons I can’t even begin to fathom, Zakael did. I hope you don’t think I’d ever hurt you.”
“I would hope that’s precisely what you’d do if I were anything like Valterys. You reminded me today that I wear this crown as a symbol for all of Aelinae, not just my own schemes or desires. If I’d listened to you, Marissa might still be alive.”
“She chose her destiny. Now you must look to the future and do what you can to prepare Eliahnna for what comes next.”
“Yes.” Lliandra’s eyes scanned the crowd for Eliahnna. “She wi
ll make a fine empress. She is wise and fair-minded. I used to be like her when I was younger.” Lliandra chuckled. “Gwyn always told me I was too practical to be a good empress. I miss my sister very much. Taryn, promise me you’ll take care of Eliahnna and Tessa when I’m gone.” Her gaze slid back to Taryn.
“You have plenty of time to take care of them yourself. Let them know how much you love them. Teach them what you know of ruling. Above all, tell them you are proud to have them as daughters.”
Lliandra snorted. “Is that what you’ve always sought from me? Approval?”
“Yes. And your love.”
“Useless things.” Lliandra waved her away. “Go—enjoy the evening with your friends. Let this be a celebration of life.”
Lliandra clapped her hands, calling out for music, dancing, and wine. The crowd cheered and raised a glass to their empress.
Taryn drifted through the crowd as if in a daze. Useless things, love and approval. The empress might be right. Certainly they had caused her heartache, but more than that, love had given Taryn purpose. Without that, there was no hope.
Taryn had to keep the hope alive that she could somehow find a way to bring balance to Aelinae. With Zakael on the Obsidian Throne and Lliandra in failing health, the future of her home world was more precarious than ever.
She and Kaida ambled aimlessly through the grounds, eventually stopping at the crypt where Marissa’s body was laid to rest. The cold marble was smooth against her skin when Taryn laid her head on the tomb.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Your father was wrong, Marissa. You were of Light and Dark, but you could never be the Eirielle. Why couldn’t you be content with the Light Throne? Why did you have to reach too far?”
She lifted the marble lid, using her ShantiMari to slide it aside. Marissa looked serene in death, her pale skin a striking contrast to her dark hair. Taryn touched the place above her heart where she’d placed the sword at Gaarendahl. The wound had healed to a faint scar.
The Temple of Ardyn Page 40
