Taryn slipped into her sister’s mind. Filth slid over her. She was disgusted by the savagery Marissa was capable of, but kept searching until she found what she needed.
You shouldn’t have come here, Marissa.
You are an abomination who should be killed. Marissa’s thought slammed into Taryn and she reeled against it.
You tried to destroy me, but you failed. You will never be Rykoto’s queen. Zakael made certain of that when he killed Valterys.
There is no place for you in this world, filthy Offlander. Rykoto will take me as his queen and you will obey my command. I never needed Valterys.
The Blood and Blade of the one who is and is not. What is the third requirement to free Rykoto?
Marissa’s face turned an ashen shade, her pulse barely more than a flicker. The others were about done with their preparations and time was running out.
Marissa gurgled a laugh, the sound sickening Taryn. Even if I knew, I’d never tell you. But the phantom knows. Ask him yourself the next time he visits.
Icy pricks roved up her arms to her neck. Why does the phantom know? How?
He knows everything about you. He’s inside your mind, Taryn. Right now.
No, Taryn told herself. This was yet another ploy by Marissa to unsettle her. She shut out her sister’s taunts and straightened her shoulders, warming her skin as she did.
These are just words. They can not hurt me, nor can you. All of your plans have failed, dear sister. You tried to destroy me, but I grew stronger. You tried to take Rhoane from me, but our bonds are unbreakable. You couldn’t be me and so you tried to surpass me. Now all is lost for you. It was you who sent Valterys here with Eliahnna, but she lives. She will sit on your throne as the rightful Lady of Light.
Marissa gasped and shook her head, moaning. She’d risked her child’s life to make certain no one stopped Valterys from killing their sister. Only Taryn’s blood would release Rykoto, but her sisters’ could strengthen him. Dangerously so. Valterys had sought Rykoto’s release to gain immortality for himself and Marissa, but she’d betrayed him by telling Zakael their plan to overthrow first Rykoto, then Lliandra.
It never occurred to her Zakael would reject her because she never for a moment believed the child could be anyone else’s. The gods would never be so cruel as to give her, the crown princess, a powerless bastard. It was inconceivable. Marissa was just as delusional as Zakael. They were a perfect match as far as Taryn was concerned.
I’m going to give your baby, a prince, to his father to be raised as a commoner, Taryn cooed in her sister’s mind.
“Please,” Marissa begged. “Have mercy.”
You chose your path and now, I’m choosing mine. Tears rolled down Taryn’s cheeks. It should have been different, Marissa. We should’ve been allies. At least I can grant you one small favor. You’ll be with Rykoto, but not as his queen. For all eternity, you’ll be nothing more than an amusement. A diversion to keep his thoughts away from me.
You’ve been playing a dangerous game, but you severely underestimated me. You are already close to death. It would be nothing for me to give you strength to make it to Talaith, but I promised you at Gaarendahl I would not have mercy a second time. I’m sorry, my sister.
Marissa opened her mouth to object and Taryn closed her mind around the faintly beating heart, commanding it to stop. A small cry escaped Marissa’s lips before she slumped lifeless against her lap.
Taryn wept not just for the death of her sister, but for the innocent boy who would grow up never knowing his kin. Mostly, she wept for Rhoane and the anguish he suffered because of Marissa. In the end, she was right. Taryn was more like her than she’d thought. She didn’t flinch from the truth. Instead, she embraced it.
Faelara took the child from Marissa’s dead hands, cradling him in her arms. They wrapped Marissa in Zakael’s cloak before Baehlon took her outside. Rhoane helped Taryn stand and when their eyes met, the sadness she saw in the mossy depths confirmed he knew what she’d done. She looked away, ashamed.
A rivulet of Marissa’s birthing blood crossed in front of her slipper. She followed it as it ran through the maze toward the center of the room. Her gaze traveled up the altar to where Valterys’ headless body lay. Blood streamed down the side onto the floor. Blood of both Light and Dark. Taryn grabbed her sword, ordering everyone out.
“Taryn, there is no danger. Valterys is dead and Zakael is gone,” Baehlon said, looking toward the still dark sky.
“Don’t argue, just get out!”
He scowled at her but did as she asked, with Faelara right behind him. Rhoane hung back. “What is it?”
“There’s no time to explain. Unless you want to be Rykoto’s next meal, you’ll do as I say and get the hell out of here.” Taryn pleaded with him to leave. “You have to trust me.”
Rhoane swore at the gods before storming out of the temple.
With the others out of harm’s way, she stood over the hole in the floor and plunged her sword deep into it. She forced the trinity of power within her through the steel, chanting over and over. “This is a sacred space—let no harm befall anyone here. Rykoto will slumber in peace.”
Ynyd Eirathnacht rose in song, with Rhoane’s sword adding a deep bass from outside the temple. The melody they sang was ancient, from before the Great War. Taryn hummed with them, instinctually knowing the lyrics.
A white light, brighter than Nadra’s brilliance, lit from the sword to every inch of the temple, cleansing it of Valterys’ sacrificial stink. The trails of blood from Marissa and Valterys sizzled and popped before scorching to nothingness. The acrid smell burned her senses and she buried her face in her shoulder.
In his earthly cell, Rykoto shrank from her words and the song of her blade. He cursed her, damning her to several cruel fates. He, too, had underestimated her power and swore vengeance on all those she held dear. Her reply was to push her sword farther into the floor, her power pulsating harder until it touched Rykoto. He screamed against the purity of her light.
When the floor and walls shone white in the moonlight, she lifted the ceiling, restoring the temple to its original grandeur. Rykoto taunted her from deep in his prison. “Little girl, leave this place before it becomes your tomb as well.”
“I don’t fear you, Rykoto. I am Eirielle, the Child of Light and Dark. I am Darennsai.” She jerked her sword free from the floor. “You have no power over me.”
His answer whispered through the walls like the hiss of a trapped cobra. “You cannot hide from me, Eirielle. I will hunt you day and night. You will know no rest until your blood is mine.”
“Hunt me, dead god. Chase me with your wicked words and fruitless visions. When we meet again, it will be the end of you.” She glanced around the room, noticing for the first time the seals placed within each column. Five held only empty holes. “Sleep now, for I have business elsewhere.”
Rykoto chuckled. “You grow stronger, little girl. Still, you are no match for a god.” A blast of hot air shot out of the hole, singeing her bare legs. She cried out and Rykoto laughed harder. “Come back anytime. I like to play with my food before I eat it.”
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 alway
s 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 Forty-Five
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 sitti
ng 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.
The Temple of Sacrifice Page 40
