-6-
KELAN Orra's funeral began at dawn in the Temple, three days later. Maddyn sat still and pensive on the front bench next to Daen. The Centrum was filled with nobility and Seryts and healers. Outside, other residents of the castle stronghold lined the path between the Temple and the gates. Beyond the walls, an entire city mourned the loss of their holy leader and waited to pay their respects for the procession through the streets that would follow the funeral.
Kelan Orra lay in state on the altar. High-Seryt Brynna led the Rite of Passing. A half-dozen elder Seryts were positioned in a solemn semi-circle behind Brynna. In the middle of them, Yve stood tall and proud. The rising sun chased away the shadows as it trickled through the still broken stained glass.
There hadn't been time to repair it, though someone had done an amazing job of cleaning and returning the rest of the Centrum to immaculate condition. The decision had been made to leave the window unboarded for purely aesthetic reasons but it made Maddyn itch.
Kelan Orra was killed because of her knowledge. The assassin couldn't know whether she'd passed that on to Yve or not. Leaving her up there, with nothing between her unprotected back and a slowly brightening sky was dangerous.
Every muscle in Maddyn clenched, ready to spring at the first sign of trouble. By the end of the funeral, he almost wished he had a reason to release the energy coiling rigidly in his chest. But the slow, steady pace of the procession as it wound its way out of the Temple and beyond the castle's gate did nothing to dispel the furious frustration clawing inside of him.
It didn't help that her grief poked at him like glass shards in his heart. Or that he saw the sharp looks and sharper censure from the elder Seryts every time she hesitated or misstepped. Her uncertainty and self-doubt doubled with each mocking correction. He was sure she couldn't hear the gossip spreading through the crowd of observers lining the streets. But she no doubt knew rumors and unkind amusement added to the air of disbelief about her sudden elevation. Maddyn wanted to push through the crowded procession until he stood by her side to protect and bolster her.
But she wouldn't thank him for it. It would only raise more questions, and more doubts, about her.
So he stayed silent and stoic as he marched.
Eventually, the procession circled back to the castle and Orra was laid to rest and the mourners moved into the Keep where the Passing Feast waited.
Maddyn kept to the edges of the crowd, not wanting to get pulled into the speculation, gossip or political machinations humming in the air.
Daen tracked him down and offered him wine, looking as relieved as Maddyn felt to hide at the edge of the room, far enough from prying ears to have a private conversation.
"I've been going through my father's library, but I've found nothing about the Labyrinth beyond legends. Nor any mentions of Circles or shrines."
"Kelan Orra knew something," Maddyn reminded him, though he avoided the suggestion that was the reason she was killed. "Any idea what?"
"No. I think she intended to tell us both that night, but she was already fighting for her life when I got there. I spoke with Brynna briefly." Daen paused, eyes searching out the High-Seryt and lingering there. "I only asked her if she knew why Orra requested to see me, but she said she didn't know."
"And you believe her?"
Maddyn asked just to see the reaction. Daen didn't disappoint, bristling at the hint of suspicion.
"Yes. I have no reason not to," Daen said, stiffly. "Did Orra say anything to the new Kelan before she died?"
"Nothing specific. Nothing I can use, yet."
"So now what? Will you stay or move on?"
His gut clenched at the thought of moving on. Of leaving Yve behind.
But she wasn't the only reason he was staying.
"Kelan Orra's assassination wasn't a coincidence. The murder was steeped in sorcery."
"Sorcery?" Daen snarled, wine sloshing in his grip. Having already been the victim of Hafgan's cruel political games, his angry reaction wasn't a surprise.
Maddyn shared the details of his search and conclusions about the Blood Cloak. He did, however, leave out the mention of his morning sojourn in the garden with Yve. Or the fact that they'd been meeting in the evergreen nook each day since for a few moments of quiet discussion or silent embrace.
"Hafgan isn't the only sorcerer on the continent, you know." Daen didn't sound entirely convinced by his own argument, but it was important not to be blinded to other possibilities.
"Like I said. Not a coincidence. I'm here because of what we found at Hafgan's stronghold. And Orra was killed by someone using his brand of blood magic."
Daen nodded in silent, pensive agreement and sipped his wine.
After a few, brooding moments of watching the crowd ebb and flow, Daen asked, "What now?"
"I'm going into the city, tomorrow night. Tonight they'll be mourning and toasting to Matriarch Orra, but tomorrow life will be back to business as usual. I'm hoping I can find one or two old timers who like to share stories. Sometimes those outside the walls remember the past better than those in the tower."
Daen nodded. "They have less reason to twist history into the current political narrative. Do you want an escort?"
Maddyn's only answer was a baleful look and dismissive shake of his head. If he couldn't defend himself in a tavern fight, he shouldn't be asking questions at all.
A swell of discontent and anger and hurt overwhelmed him in a heart-thudding wave. Maddyn turned immediately, eyes locked on Yve. The elder in front of her smiled condescendingly down, looking much too pleased with herself. Yve's shoulders curled forward, teeth sunk deep in her bottom lip, doubt and depressing confusion clawing along the bond.
He wanted to snarl his way through the crowd. Press himself to her side and protect her with words or steel if necessary. But she wouldn't thank him for it.
Instead, Maddyn concentrated on comfort and reassurance, pushing it across their link in waves of warmth, hoping she felt him as readily as he felt her. Trying not to think too hard about how easy and strong the bond was between them after only a few days.
Yve's head snapped up, searching him out until their eyes locked. Her mouth smoothed into a soft smile, and she straightened. Confidence and determination replaced the dark anxiety in her heart and in her posture.
She turned back to face the gloating elder squarely. Through the crowd, Maddyn couldn't hear what she said. Whatever it was, though, it snapped the condescension off the Seryt's face before she turned with a huff and slunk away.
*****
"I must admit, I've always been a little concerned about Brynna's relative youth as High-Seryt. However, she acquitted herself masterfully in your stead."
Gyrt smiled serenely, but there was a flat, challenging look in her eyes. A hardness that warned Yve a stinging rebuke was coming. With so many people around, though, Yve had to maintain her poise and stand her ground. Outright snubbing the elder Seryt would cause more problems.
"Yes. I'm very grateful to the High-Seryt," she answered carefully.
"Considering your complete lack of preparation, you must be so relieved Brynna was well-trained enough to step into place so easily for you. How long, do you think, will it take you to learn the necessary skills to actually be able to lead the Order?"
Gyrt's tight-lipped smugness called up the creeping cold weight of self-doubt Yve had been carrying for years. No matter how she answered, the elder would find a way to twist it. If she said soon, she'd be painted as arrogant and delusional. If she suggested a longer transition, it would lead to questioning whether waiting for her to catch up was in the best interest of the Order.
And if she said she didn't know, well... That kind of indecision was never inspiring in a leader.
Insecurity forged a thick lump in her throat, leaving her speechless and uncertain. Yve dropped her gaze to stare at the floor, to hide the moisture gathering in her eyes.
Maybe the elder was right. Maybe Orra had made a mistake in
demanding a promise from Yve. Maybe the poison was already affecting her mind when she passed on the medallion. Maybe Yve should step aside.
Before she gave voice to any of those thoughts, though, warmth and comfort and reassurance swept through her. No one touched her, yet it was as if she'd been embraced by trust and hope and confidence.
Yve twisted, automatically seeking out Madd in the crowd. He looked so fierce and resolute she couldn't help the smile that bloomed on her lips at the sight of him. Pulling back her shoulders and refusing to be cowed any longer, her expression cooled when she turned back to Gyrt.
"I began leading the Order the moment Kelan Orra placed the medallion around my neck and shared her gift with me. Sometimes leading means knowing when to delegate to someone who has more knowledge or a stronger skill."
Yve fought the urge to smirk, barely keeping a straight face when she added, "I'll let you know if I can think of anything you can help me with."
Gyrt paled, mouth opening in an offended O before it shut with a click and the elder stomped away.
The Feast went on interminably after that. Yve didn't begrudge Mother Orra all the accolades and mourning she'd earned in a lifetime of service to the kingdom. But, mostly, the attendants had gotten that out of their systems in the first hour. The Feast had then been taken over by politics, gossip and social maneuvering. Just like any other meal in the Keep.
Eventually, though, even those pursuits became tiring, and the crowd began to thin out. As soon as Yve was sure she wouldn't be missed, she slipped out. Making her way to the shortcut that would take her to the Temple gardens, she somehow wasn't surprised to find Maddyn waiting for her in a quiet corridor.
Leaning against the heavy stone of the Keep's wall, ceremonial sword at his side and pale hair twisted into the traditional braids of the Tribes, he looked like an invading warrior from old tales.
But his smile was soft, crinkling around his eyes. Warm and welcoming with a bit of concern around the edges.
"How are you doing?"
And just like that, all the walls she'd been shoring up wanted to crumble. She wanted to press her face into Maddyn's shoulder and wail at the injustice of the world.
Instead, Yve took a deep breath and twisted her fingers together to keep from reaching out to him.
"I've been better," she admitted, knowing he'd feel it if she lied. Still, weakness wasn't something she had time for. "But I'll be fine."
"I know," he agreed. He said it easily, with a strong confidence in her. The kind of belief and trust she lacked in herself. When, exactly, had his feelings shifted so drastically?
"Only days ago, you thought I was spying on you," she reminded him.
"Days ago, I barely knew you, and I didn't trust anyone not related to me by blood or vow. Whether we like it or not, we're connected by something as powerful as either of those. I know you now, Yve. And I think you know me."
A little over a day, and the time they had spent together, he'd mostly been in Hound form. Yet he accepted her as she was. In a way her family never had. In a way the Order couldn't seem to.
Unfortunately, the vow she took, the promise she made to Orra came before whatever she wanted from Maddyn.
"I do. Know you. And trust you. But the bond is temporary."
Yve winced at the way her own words sliced straight into her heart. Trembled again when the echoing pain resonated from Maddyn.
But he dipped his head in acknowledgment. "We have different paths to walk. Once we find a way to protect Galwei from Hafgan, I have to continue to fight him. To where else threatened by his ambition. And you have a purpose, here."
The silence throbbed between them, filled with things neither of them could give voice to.
"Would you want it to be different if it could be?" Yve hadn't meant to ask. Wasn't sure she wanted the answer. Yet she couldn't take it back. "Would you want the bond, if you could stay? Or I could go?"
A ripple of hot desperate want rolled through her, followed by a wave of confusion that vibrated between them. His fingers curled around her wrist, and he leaned into her, his breath a whisper on her cheek.
"Yve--"
He dropped his hand abruptly, turning right before a page came around the corner.
"Lord Maddyn, a messenger arrived with a letter for you."
She wanted to stay. More than anything. Wanted to hear the answer to her question. Because that pull, that reckless need, was so strong, Yve turned and slipped down the hall while his attention was diverted.
No doubt he heard her moving away. Felt it. But he wouldn't say anything. Wouldn't try to stop her. Wouldn't do anything to call unwanted attention to them.
There was too much for her to focus on. Too much danger and intrigue for either of them to be distracted by what ifs or maybes.
She needed to bring Orra's killer to justice and protect the rest of the Order.
He needed to stop Hafgan and protect all the surrounding kingdoms. There wasn't room or time for anything else.
-7-
BY the time Yve crossed the garden and entered the Temple, she'd wrapped her resolve around her like a cloak.
Some of the Seryts, less visible than the new, unexpected Kelan, had already retired. A pair of them knelt at prayer in the Centrum. Moving around on the sleeping level, their footsteps and voices drifting down the stairs. Suddenly the Temple didn't promise quite as much peace as she'd hoped.
As tired as she was, the day's events had Yve wound too tight to even consider resting.
The grief of the funeral rites. The frustration and self-doubt of the Seryts watching and weighing her every movement. The regret of her brief, intense conversation with Maddyn.
There was too much haunting her for Yve to seek out her bed until she was sure exhaustion would overwhelm her spiraling thoughts.
Orra said the secrets were in the Kelan's library. The secret library Yve shouldn't even know about. But she did know, and the promise of answers called her toward it.
Despite the quiet of the Temple, Yve crept down the stairs with a year's worth of practiced stealth. She'd learned early which steps to avoid so as not to give away the telltale squeak. She didn't have to sneak anywhere, now. As Kelan, she had access to everything in the Temple. But old habits died hard.
She'd been in the secret room several times since that first morning she'd accidentally watched Mother Orra open the hidden door. Now, though, she knew the Kelan must have known Yve saw her. She was certain the Kelan had seen something about her and the library. That Orra made sure Yve found it.
It had been a guilty, exhilarating risk, before. Some of that guilt and excitement clung to her still when she pressed the hidden catch and waited for the click with a deeply held breath. Then the wall in front of her swung open.
A haphazard mix of furniture cluttered the room. Floor to ceiling bookcases were scattered along all four walls. An ancient looking hutch held a variety of instruments and daggers, statuettes, and implements she didn't recognize. A more contemporary writing desk sat between the hutch and a bookcase. Old chests filled most of the rest of the space. Yve knew from her past visits they contained everything from scroll canisters to more weapons to a collection of children's toys.
Candle sconces and lanterns were everywhere, so there'd be plenty of light in the windowless room, no matter where one looked.
A luxuriously comfortable padded chaise dominated center of the room, perfect for long periods of lounging and reading.
Not that Yve had spent long periods of time here. The longest she'd ever risked had been the day she'd been discovered in the loft. And that had been an accident. She'd gotten caught up in reading about the first Kelan's trials and life before and after successfully navigating the maze.
Unfortunately, though she didn't need to worry about being caught or late for chores, Yve wasn't here to get lost in a good tale. She had something important to find. And being late, this time, had consequence far beyond weeding duty.
With a deep bre
ath, Yve lit the closest lantern and started examining the bookcase, looking for any kind of order or system to the books.
Two hours later, Yve dropped yet another useless tome on the floor next to chaise and buried her face in her hands.
If there was any organization to the room, she'd been unable to find it, so far. Eventually, she started plucking random books off of the shelves in hopes of divine guidance getting her somewhere when logic failed.
She found several fascinating volumes she wanted to come back to later, including one swashbuckling adventure about the fifth Kelan saving an entire village from a band of brigands. None of them mentioned the Labyrinth or anything to do with the first king or the original Kelan, though. At least nothing beyond what she'd already learned.
Frustrated and despondent, Yve put the handful of books back where she'd found them. Then she stood in the middle of the room fiddling with the medallion at her throat, hoping for inspiration. Or, better yet, for her new gift to give her a vision of exactly what she needed to do.
But nothing came and the doubts crept back in. If she was meant to protect, to lead, shouldn't she be able to figure out how?
Her fingers tightened on the heavy pendant. Maybe Gyrt was right. Maybe she didn't deserve it.
With a deep breath, she took it off for the first time since Orra placed it around her neck. The front was etched with the familiar symbol of the Order, an upturned crescent moon cradling a stylized luneil. A flick of her wrist set the medallion spinning on its chain.
Candlelight caught the engraving on the back and Yve stopped the motion, holding it closer. A Labyrinth graced the top half. Underneath, elegant words were inscribed in the metal. Yve didn't know all the words but she recognized enough to know it was written in the language of the Order's oldest prayers. As a novitiate, she'd only learned enough to take part in the rituals. If she wanted to learn what it said, she'd need to ask someone who understood the language better for help.
By Destiny Bound (The Lost Shrines Book 2) Page 8
