“And none are dead.” Alluria placed her cheek against his chest and took a deep breath. “I’ve spoken to the High Priestess.”
“About what, nalla?”
“About being released from my vows.”
Caol’nir rubbed his eyes as he imagined Sarelle’s stern, judgmental face as Alluria sought guidance. “What did she say?”
“That it can be done honorably.”
He raised himself up on his elbows, his shock nearly outweighing his joy. “How?”
“I don’t know yet. I am to go into the vaults; the information is contained within.” She dropped her gaze. “I’ll be sequestered for five days and five nights, beginning at second dawn.”
“Tomorrow?” Caol’nir was not pleased about being separated from Alluria for five days; he had seen her, spoken to her, every day since she arrived in Teg’urnan. Now, when he finally knew that she loved him, he wouldn’t see her for a small eternity.
“Tomorrow,” Alluria confirmed.
“Why will it take you five days to find your answer? I thought the vaults were a sort of library, full of scrolls and such.”
“One cannot just enter the vaults. I must be purified before I enter, and again after I leave.” Alluria wrapped her arms around Caol’nir. “If I present my question, and the answer is no…”
“What will they do to you?”
“I may never petition to be released again.”
“But you won’t be harmed?” he asked, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. “Tell me you’ll be safe.”
“Of course, they won’t harm me,” she replied. “I’m still the god’s mate. To harm me would mean their deaths.”
“Then this is not so bad,” he said. “I’ll be lost without you for five days, but you’ll be returned to me soon enough. If the answer is no, we will remain as we have been, and I’ll guard your sacred chastity until the end of my days.”
“And… if it is yes?”
“Then you’re mine.”
Alluria speaks…
That night was indeed perfect, although not in the way I’d imagined. Nestled deep in the furs, Caol’nir rained kisses onto my face, my neck, my breast. He let me unbind his hair again, and I loved how it fell around us like a sun-colored curtain hiding us from the rest of the world. Even though I had no right, I prayed and prayed for that night to last forever, but all too soon the elder sun sent his rays to rouse us. I pressed my face against Caol’nir’s neck and squeezed my eyes shut, willing the sun to halt.
“Alluria,” he said softly. I hadn’t thought he was awake.
“Another moment,” I whispered, and he tightened his arms around me. I still hadn’t told him what I truly feared: that if my request was denied I’d be forbidden from seeing him ever again. He didn’t know Sarelle as I did; every resident of Teg’urnan saw her as the all-powerful High Priestess, favored by the gods to know and execute their will. I saw her for what she truly was: a cruel, vindictive woman who sought retribution rather than forgiveness. I clutched his arms as if he could be taken from me at any moment, and thus betrayed my thoughts.
“Tell me,” was all he said, and my fears poured forth like a waterfall. He was silent as he stroked my hair, and when I finished he kissed my forehead. “That won’t happen.”
“How can you know?” I asked. “If Sarelle orders it, it will come to pass.”
“If she orders such, I’ll abduct you in the night and take you where we will never be found.” He pulled me up so that my face was directly over his; I daresay he also enjoyed it when my hair fell around us. “Nothing will keep us apart, I swear it. Whether I spend my life as your mate or your guard, I will spend it with you.”
I couldn’t believe he said that, I couldn’t believe how loyal he was…I couldn’t believe he loved me that much. In that moment, my heart swelled near bursting and I kissed him with more fervor than I’d thought myself capable of. He returned it with his own passion, then held me for another all-too-brief moment.
As we readied ourselves for the walk back to the temple, I convinced him to leave his hair loose. At first, Caol’nir protested. Anyone who knew the legend (which was most of the palace, and certainly all of the con’dehr) would assume he’d claimed me, and he did not want me to suffer their idle gossip.
“Let them talk,” I replied. “I’m the one going to my trial within the vaults, not them. If I want to hold the image of you as such in my heart over the next five days, I will.”
Caol’nir frowned. “What if they try disgracing you, forcing you from temple?”
“Then, that will solve everything.” His frown deepened, so I added, “Nall, please.”
“You know I can’t resist you when you call me that.”
“I know,” I replied, and we left his chamber.
Indeed, we were the recipients of a few startled glances as we walked side by side to the temple thanks to Caol’nir’s wild mane of hair, and that he didn’t stay the required two steps behind me. No one questioned us, and one look at Caol’nir’s face told me why: his jaw was set as if for battle, warning others to stay clear of our path.
Once we reached the temple, we entered through the southern door which represented knowledge, for knowledge was what I sought. Waiting for me was Atreynha, who had cared for me since I was a baby. I had steeled myself against Sarelle’s inevitable presence, assuming she would greet me and oversee my purification. When I saw Atreynha’s kind eyes, I nearly wept.
“Mother Priestess.” I knelt at her feet, overcome with relief. Surely if Atreynha was there, nothing bad could come of this; surely she wouldn’t let Sarelle take Caol’nir from me. She stroked my hair for a moment before she bade me to rise, and I followed her without question as she led me away. If Caol’nir had not spoken, I wouldn’t have looked back.
“My lady,” he began, “I’d like to accompany Alluria, as far as I may.”
Atreynha glanced over her shoulder, not slowing her pace as she replied. “You will not be with her long. Come, warrior.”
Atreynha led us to a small cell that adjoined the baths; I smelled the humid air, heavy with lavender, and knew that my first purification awaited me. Atreynha sat and I knelt at her feet while Caol’nir stood in the doorway. She spoke as if he wasn’t there, first explaining the purification I needed to undergo, then what I would experience in the vaults. As she recited the third day’s trial, Caol’nir interrupted her.
“No, Alluria,” he said, so forcefully Atreynha was too startled to be offended. “I won’t have you subject yourself to this, it’s too much. Leave this room, remain a priestess, and I’ll remain your guard.”
“Caol’nir,” I said, “I want to do this. I’ll be all right.”
Caol’nir’s gaze moved from me to Atreynha. “Mother Priestess, have any entered the vaults and not returned?”
“Yes. Not often, but it has happened.”
Caol’nir knelt before me and took my hand. “Mea nalla, I won’t have you suffering, not for me, not for anything. I beg you not to do this.”
I gazed into his green eyes, fraught with concern and fear, and overriding all other emotions, love. I knew that he’d remain with me for the rest of our lives regardless of whose mate I was. I also knew that as long as I wasn’t truly his, neither of us would be happy.
“You think I won’t be suffering if I spend my days mated to another? Do you think you wouldn’t suffer?” I asked.
His gaze briefly returned to me, and for a moment, I thought he would protest again. Instead, he looked to Atreynha, and she replied to his silent question.
“Alluria is strong,” she said softly, “much stronger than we ever thought she’d be. There is nothing in the vaults that can harm her. If she doesn’t return, it will be of her own doing.” She leaned forward and stroked Caol’nir’s hair, much as she had stroked mine a moment before. “And you, young warrior, have answered many questions for me. I pleaded with Sarelle to let me prepare Alluria for her journey, my intent to question her resolve. Now I see t
hat you are willing to forego your own happiness to keep her safe, and I’m confident that she has chosen well.”
“I’d undertake this journey for her, if you’d only let me,” he said.
“I know, my son,” she replied, “but you will be judged in your own way.”
At last I dared to look at Atreynha and saw her smiling at my beloved. To have her blessing for these trials meant so much to me.
“Thank you, Mother Priestess,” I said.
Atreynha resumed her explanation of my coming travails and Caol’nir remained at my side, his hands clutching mine. When her recitation was complete, she rose and placed her hands on my head.
“Now that you know what your journey entails, are you still willing to undertake it?” Atreynha asked.
“Yes, Mother Priestess.”
She smiled her familiar, kind smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle, and motioned for us to rise. She bade me to follow her. Caol’nir automatically fell into step beside me. “No, warrior,” Atreynha said, “you’ve come as far as you may. The purification is for Alluria alone.”
Caol’nir nodded, then asked, “May I say goodbye?”
“Of course,” she replied, bowing her head. He cupped my face with his hands and murmured that he loved me, that he would continue to love me no matter what the result of this trial may be. Then to my sheer and utter amazement he kissed me, right there in front of the Mother Priestess! It was not a chaste kiss on the back of my hand. Caol’nir pressed his lips to mine as if I hadn’t been adorned in the sacred robes of a virgin priestess. And I, I kissed him back.
“I love you,” I murmured once we parted, and he kissed my forehead.
“Forgive me, Mother Priestess.” He gazed at her over the top of my head. Atreynha’s only response was to touch my elbow. I left my beloved and followed the Mother Priestess to the baths.
Atreynha prepared me herself, not allowing a single novice to touch me. She was silent as she removed my robes and adornments, then she bound my hair in a loose braid. I nearly wept as she tied off the end, remembering Caol’nir’s heavy blond cable. As I stood before her, she poured blessed oil over my head and shoulders, then scrubbed me raw with salt. Finally, she bade me enter the bath. I did, and as I submerged myself in the scalding water I wondered if the oppressive heat was intended to make me welcome the cold air of the vaults.
Neither of us spoke during the purification, which was repeated six times with various oils and abrasives. When I was led to the final bath, I noticed it was steeped with chamomile and the water was tepid, a moment’s comfort before my hardships began.
“The elder sun will soon rest,” Atreynha said and she held out a length of soft linen. “You will descend soon.”
I merely nodded as I rose and accepted the linen. I patted dry my raw skin and wrapped the fabric about myself and sat as Atreynha combed out my hair.
“Are you angry with me?” I asked, unable to look her in the eye.
“Why would I be?”
“For turning my back on you.” Atreynha was the one who had always cared for me, the one who had been there for me when even my own mother had gone, and now I was leaving her and all she had taught me.
“I think you’re doing nothing of the sort,” she replied, then bent to pick at a tangle. “Life within the temple is difficult in ways that others can hardly imagine, and it is not for everyone. Just because you were born in a temple does not mean you need to reside in one for your entire life.” She was silent for long moments while she ran her fingers through my damp hair. “I think that love is a gift from the gods, and we merely serve their will. If they have decreed that Caol’nir is your soul’s true mate, who am I to dispute their wisdom?”
“Caol’nir’s brother told him something very similar,” I mused.
Atreynha laughed softly, then came around to face me. “Child, I love you as if you were born of my own body, and I know you better than anyone. Well, anyone except your warrior.” My cheeks grew hot and I ducked my head, but she turned my chin to face her. “I also believe that you must love him very much to attempt this, as he must love you very much to risk kissing you right in front of me.” For the first time that day, I smiled, and Atreynha smoothed back my hair. “If nothing else, you deserve a chance to be happy. Now come.”
She held out a rough garment of undyed wool, as shapeless as it was uncomfortable, all I was allowed to wear. Once it was about my shoulders, she took my hand and led me down a long corridor until we stood at the mouth of the steps that disappeared into darkness. Atreynha murmured a quick blessing as she squeezed my hand, and I descended to the most sacred spot in Parthalan.
Chapter Eleven
Lormac stood atop the battlement as dawn broke over the mountain range called the World’s Spine. Spread out upon the plain before the keep was the Ish h’ra hai, and Lormac enjoyed watching Asherah walk among her people. During the past moons Lormac had hosted the Ish h’ra hai, her daily walk had become something of a ritual, so much so that many now lined her regular path. As Asherah made her way about the encampment, asking how one was faring, offering a few reassuring words to another, her regal bearing once again impressed the Lord of Tingu.
Someone, somewhere has taught her the art of leadership. He noted how she rallied those around her, how her eloquent speech both calmed and inspired her followers. Lormac was reminded of his youth and of the many hours he sat at his father’s knee, learning how to present himself, how to speak in such a way that people hung on his every word and would clamor to follow him. Lormac wondered if Asherah undergone a similar tutelage, and who’d been the teacher.
Her.
The word rumbled through Lormac’s mind, heard not with his ears but deep within his being. Lormac absently rubbed the Sala, the silver armband set with green stones that marked him as Lord of Tingu, and wished he could quiet the nagging urges it manifested in him. While the elf king readily admitted, albeit only to himself, that he was somewhat captivated by Asherah, he had no intention of taking matters any further. He was Lord of Tingu, a larger and more ancient land than Parthalan, and he would not let his emotions be swayed by one lone fae. It didn’t bother him that she was once enslaved; in fact, her escape and subsequent leadership of the Ish h’ra hai only increased his opinion of her. But, if Lormac was to contemplate taking a mate, the woman should be an elf.
Not that Asherah wouldn’t be a worthy mate. In addition to watching her morning walks, Lormac had also observed Asherah as she practiced swordplay. She had little in the way of formal training, but she fought with an innate speed and grace. Such was her skill that Lormac wondered if she had once been a member of Parthalan’s legion.
Trust the fae to make their women into warriors. Elfin women had long ago ceased to be warriors, save for a few with hereditary titles such as the Lady of Thurnda. Elves counted it among their strengths that their prowess in battle was such they could leave fully half of their numbers behind and still be victorious. Of course, if faeries fought as well as elves they could also leave their women safe at home.
Lormac returned his gaze to the faerie below and was certain that Asherah wouldn’t suffer a man to leave her next to the hearth. In fact, after her first night in the keep he hadn’t seen her in another gown, despite the many he sent. In truth, Asherah needed no finery to enhance her appearance. He watched her move, enjoying the way her lithe muscles stretched like a cat stalking its prey. Lormac wondered if maybe faeries had it right, that a woman warrior might be a source of untold pleasures.
Her.
Lormac shook his head and willed the Sala to silence, at least for the time being, and summoned Asherah. By the time he had unrolled the maps in his chamber, Asherah joined him.
“My riders have returned,” Lormac began, forgoing a greeting, “and your claims have been confirmed. We may now discuss what kind of assistance you’re expecting of me.”
“What sort of assistance you will offer?” Asherah asked. “You’ve already done so much, and I do
n’t want you to compromise your people.”
“I may not have a choice,” Lormac replied. “While I have no wish to war with Sahlgren, I am afraid that the situation is far worse than you described, or than I imagined.” He leaned over a long table and pushed a map toward Asherah. “The blue marks were made by Harek, but I want you to make note of the black marks.”
“There are many,” Asherah said as she scanned the parchment. The map was of not only Parthalan, but also the elflands and the dark fae. The markings were abundant throughout. “What do they signify?”
“Dojas.”
The blood drained from Asherah’s face. Her hand trembled as she ran her fingertips across the map. “There are hundreds.”
“Yes. In some regions, such as the west and the south of Parthalan, entire villages have been emptied.” Lormac eyed her for a moment. “I’ve also learned that the demons only want those of pure blood, no mixed races. Do you know why?”
Asherah shook her head, still staring at the map. “So we’re all pureblooded.”
“What?” Lormac asked. Asherah kept her attention on the map, which so agitated Lormac he grabbed her chin and turned her face to his. “You act as though you do not know you own heritage.”
Asherah knocked his hand away. “Don’t touch me like that.”
Lormac remembered the scars on her wrist. “Forgive me, I acted without thinking.” When she nodded, he said, “Answer my question. Do you know your heritage?”
Asherah stared at him for a moment, her eyes burning with indignation. “I do not,” she ground out.
Lormac’s brows knit together as he contemplated this new layer to the enigma of Asherah. “Leave us,” he ordered, and his varied attendants filed out of the chamber. “How is that possible?”
“My earliest memory is of being taken by the mordeth. I remember sitting at a table—or maybe before a hearth—then this great beast burst in and grabbed me. My next memory is of waking in my cell alongside Torim.” Asherah wrapped her arms around her waist and crossed the room to the window. She leaned upon the frame and gazed toward the Ish h’ra hai. “If I concentrate I can almost see who I was with, almost remember their faces…but almost only takes you so far, doesn’t it?”
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