“I want an honest answer.”
His brown eyes shutter in his head as he searches my face.
“Why won’t the Ro’Hale army march against the Dalis to save the Sunderlands?”
“The Sunderlands are beyond savin’.” He stands to his full height. Darius stands too and the brothel grows a little quieter.
“You don’t know that.”
“Doesn’t matter what I know. Matters what the Queen says. She’s the one givin’ the orders.”
“Liar,” I snarl.
Darius puts his hand on my shoulder.
“She said the armies are against her,” I accuse. “Why?”
“Everyone is against her. You’d be smart not to get yerself outnumbered.”
“Maybe we can settle this diplomatically, over another drink, perhaps?” Darius asks in a softer voice before I can reply. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, and I know what that means.
“I’ve got nothin’ to settle.” P. Kade sits back down and finishes his drink. “I’ve played my part in this kingdom’s fate. I risked my life for the crown.”
I pull up a chair from the neighboring table and spin it so I can sit facing the back of it. I lean my arms on the back of the chair, and stare at him.
“This isn’t story time, Keres. Go back to yer wet-nurse for that.” Paragon Kade disregards me and retrieves his tankard of ale.
I’m not leaving without answers.
P. Kade relents. “Oh, bloody hell. When Queen Herrona’s husband was murdered, I was there. I was part of the King’s Guard. King Berlium played the crown with a false promise for an alliance. King Tamyrr left to seal the rouse of a treaty with the Baore. On the road to Dale, they ambushed us. I was the lone survivor.”
I remember Queen Hero mentioning there being a single survivor to me in her room.
“How did you get away?” I ask.
“I don’t quite know meself.” He beckons a wench for more ale. “The fight was vicious. A blurred fray. Bear gilded breastplates, blaring horns, men gruntin’ and shittin’ themselves. I cut down the assassin that was closest to the King, but I was too late. He was fatally wounded. I fended off the Dalis cunts as I dragged his body back through the Gods’ Woods. Refused to leave my King there, for his bones to be picked clean by thieves and vultures. That’s how I survived.”
“The Gods’ Woods?” I ask.
“The area of the Sunderlands Forest that lies between the Baore and the clan Massara,” Darius says, “It’s barren. Some say it’s haunted.”
I don’t know how I’ve never heard of the Gods’ Woods. I’ve never even seen it on a map.
“How did you make it through towing a dead body?” Darius asks.
He nudges his head toward the Cedenic blade sticking out of the wood floor. “Vanya.”
“You named your blade?” Darius lifts a brow at the drunken warrior.
“I named my bow,” I shrug.
“Vanya conducts spiritual energy— you said it yerself. And there were spirits, but they weren’t any Gods. Wraiths. Nasty fucks; cloaked spirits that screech at ye and strike with talons like a Gryphon’s. Almost tore my soul from my body. They wanted the dead King, but I wouldn’t let them have him. Vanya conducted their ilk back at them, some shit I don’t quite understand, but I could hurt ‘em. That I could wrap my head around. I picked him up on my back after that. Walked ‘till I laid him down at the dead Queen’s feet.”
Interesting. Another creature I’d like to read up on. If cedenic blades affect Wraiths, I’d like to get my hands on one. It’ll be good for my new monster-hunting hobby.
I sigh and stand from my chair. “Riveting tale. Although, not an answer to the question I asked.”
“I answered yer damn question. I risked all for Gods and Crown. I’m done with it. The Army’s done with it. The Killer Queen is a lunatic and everyone knows it.”
“You’re a coward,” I say.
“And you’re an ignorant bitch,” Paragon Kade snaps.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” Darius stands, slamming his hands on the table.
“Let’s go, Darius. We won’t get what our people need from a useless, drunken, whoremonger.”
Turning away from Paragon Kade, I hear Darius’ seat scratch against the wood. The Gnorrer’s bones rattle as he slings the shawl-sack over his shoulder, and his footsteps follow me out of the brothel.
“There you are!” Dorian leaps to his feet. Osira’s still on the altar, entranced by the Gods.
“Did you get the bones?”
“Yes,” Darius drops them at his feet. “We defeated the Gnorrer and freed the Apostates of Trethermor.
Osira’s voice breaks into a scream. She sits up as we approach the altar. She continues screaming in another tongue as she points at Darius.
“How does she see me?” He asks, stopping in his tracks.
“She senses you,” I say.
“Darius, stay here,” Dorian orders him to her side. She recoils from him and Cesarus lurches between Darius and the altar, warning him not to take another step.
“Easy, wolfy,” Darius raises his hands in surrender to Cesarus, and shows that he’ll stay right where he is. I take the bones and follow Dorian down a hall and into the abbey scullery. He’s got a pot of boiling water already waiting on the fire.
“The bones,” He waves his hands toward the pot.
One by one, I watch them sink into the bubbling water. He splashes what smells like vinegar in after them.
“Now what?” I ask.
“We wait.”
And we do. For hours. Dorian scrapes foam and fat off the top of the water as the time passes. He adds in chopped vegetables, I guess to make it more palatable.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say.
“As have I,” Dorian smiles. “It must have been brutal fighting such a beast.”
“The Gnorrer had claimed the glade. The Alchemists, Famon in particular, inferred that the reason my Death Spirit’s power was weakened against the beast is because I have been reborn. Remade into one of the First Children, therefore, equal to monsters and spirits in power.”
He stops stirring the broth. His smile vanishes and his lips pinch together as he looks at me. He no longer wears the veil and his eyes are piercing.
“Famon quoted Aurelisan doctrine. Darius was surprisingly well-versed, and they debated some points. I said I wasn’t interested… but I am. I want to understand my divine nature. I believe it’s the first step in disciplining myself to control the Death Spirit. I blame only myself for my weakness, but even my mentor, a powerful mage, has been unable to help me control my power. The truth is, I fear being corrupted by my curse and bloodlust. Liriene, my sister, also says I will lose myself to this divine nature. I need to understand. Can you help me?”
“A significant change of heart, Coroner.” His eyes lower to his hands and he watches the broth swirl as he stirs it. “A few days ago, you doubted the Transcendants, your ability to revive the Tree. You called my beliefs myth.”
“I apologize for my ignorance about these things.” I stop and swallow, my throat uncomfortably tight. “I used to believe faith was weakness. In the Glade, when my first arrow failed, I feared that Mrithyn had forsaken me. It was a moment of weakness, cowardice. When Mrithyn made me His, He promised He would never leave me. In that moment of fear and doubt, I remembered His vow, and my faith became a strength. I ran,” I laugh. “I may be cocky at times, but I’m no fool. I needed Darius to help me win. In that moment, I ran also from my doubt. I was moved by my faith: The Gods gave me a comrade, someone who would fight alongside me. I knew that was the answer. I was not alone.”
“All who seek peace shall be anchored. All who request mercy shall be forgiven. All who magnify the Gods shall be uplifted. All who trust shall never have cause for fear. Barathessian twenty-two, verse sixteen,” Dorian says and adds more spices to the broth.
“That’s beautiful,” I say.
“You want to understand your nature, to
better control your power. This will come with study, but you can start with this passage. A depiction of the relationship the Gods intend for us to have with Them. An open communion. You can study doctrine, title your beliefs, live by a system or commands, and never truly grasp the simplicity of faith. When we believe the Gods’ promises to us, that is faith. Religion is a matter of lifestyle. Faith is a matter of living.”
We spend the rest of the wait in silence, and I try to commit the passage to memory. The whole night passes and the sun rises again. Finally, after what must have been ten hours, he strains the bones from the broth, and pours the broth into a wooden bowl.
We bring it to Osira. Darius is sitting on the stone floor, legs-crossed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Cesarus is sitting vigilantly between him and Osira, who’s still groaning on the altar.
“How long can she stay like this?”
“Don’t know. Hopefully, she won’t have to stay this way much longer. Osira, drink.” He holds the steaming broth to her lips, and she drinks.
I nudge Darius with my foot, and he snaps awake, standing up. We watch until she’s swallowed the last drop. Dorian steps back and Cesarus moves to stand beside him as we all wait for something to happen.
“Keres,” She whimpers and sits up, but she doesn’t turn in my direction. She stays fixated on Darius.
“What’s wrong?” I look between her and him.
He holds up his hands again. “Should I leave?”
“Yes. Run!” Osira screams as she tries to climb down from the altar but falls to the floor.
“Osira, what’s wrong.” Dorian’s at her side first.
Darius walks backwards towards the door with a nervous look on his face. We exchange glances. I signal him to go. “I’ll follow.”
Osira collapses into Dorian’s arms and Cesarus nudges her with his muzzle. She reverts to writhing and weeping, praying in the divine tongue.
She finally comes back to us again, sputtering and coughing against sobs.
“What did you see?” Dorian presses.
“Keres,” She calls for me.
I kneel before her, “What was it, Osi?”
“As your ancestors have come before the Oracles and received a prophecy, so will you kneel before me. I have word of your destiny.”
My stomach explodes into what feels like swarms of ants running around inside my torso.
With a vast, startling voice that is all her own, Osira speaks with confidence and with understanding:
“One lost soul to guide all others. Marked on a map written in the stars. One life to another tethers, one death and all our wars.”
Dorian stands from her side and looks at me. I look from one to the other.
“That is your destiny, Keres,” Osira smiles and holds out a hand for Dorian to help her stand. “I understand it all now. I can hear them each in their unique calls. I spoke with them all and they sang to me. Drinking the bones— it helped me. I can interpret for them and prophesy.” She is talking more to Dorian now than to me.
“Who killed Queen Herrona?” Against my better judgment, it’s the first thing I blurt out. “Did they tell you?”
They both turn towards me, remembering my presence. Dorian looks to Osira, and she scratches her scalp where the last bit of hair falls.
“You must leave this place, Keres.”
“I need answers. King Arias of the Gryphons sent me here to spy on the court. I can’t leave until I have—”
“Your people are in danger and you will not find help here. You must go to them— but the boy…”
I wait.
“Penance will die for you if you let him. You cannot let him. He’s the one whose death I sensed before. I feel it in his presence.”
“I won’t let him.”
“You must stay away from him or he will die for you. Remember, God is coming.”
“Which God, Osira?” Dorian asks.
“All of them.” She touches her hand to her brow, her fingers trembling against the veil. “Don’t let him love you, Keres. He will die. You must forget him, you must—”
“I get it!” My voice cracks. How can I forget Darius?
I look into her scaled eyes and see a foreign clarity within. She stands to her full stature now. “Leave tonight. You must reach your people by morning. They will need you. Go.”
“There’s still so much for me to learn. I want to be a disciple of this temple. I need to know these things!” I look to Dorian and back to Osira. “I want to be here with you Osi—”
“You do not belong here. Not now.”
“I have to help Hero too! Who killed Herrona?”
Dorian holds up a hand to me, “We will meet again, child. We will study the doctrine of Mrithyn another time. If she says there is a danger, listen to her. It seems her Veiling is complete. Trust her. You will always be welcomed here.” He gestures to the tree, “This place will always be open to you. And you said you sought more than her visions, that you sought to help her—”
“It wasn’t just about the answers, but I cannot return to Hero without one. Please just tell me who it was,” I beg.
Osira pauses, takes in a long breath.
“Do not tarry, do not return to the palace. Leave Darius or he will die. Take my answer to those who sent you. Not to the Queen. Promise me these things, Keres.”
I think of Hero and Rydel. I never got to speak with Seraphina; my mother’s things are in her closet waiting for me to claim them.
“I promise. Will you tell me who killed Herrona? Was it King Berlium? Was it Ivaia? Who was it!?” My fingernails are digging into the palms of my hands.
“It was Queen Hero.”
26. THE HUNTRESS AND THE WOLF
The doors of the temple spit me out into the balmy afternoon. I’m lightheaded and sweaty, my heart races along a new track of thoughts. Is it true? I wrap myself in my cloak, trying to shut out the forces of power in this world that are bombarding my life — my world — with relentless, malicious force. I step over the threshold, over another demarcation line in my life, and feel lost. Darius is leaning on the wall next to the door. I run down the steps, yank him by the arm and pull him down the steps with me.
“Slow down!” He says.
“Can’t. We have to go!”
My bare feet skid in the gravely dirt of the road. A small cloud of dust takes its first and final breath at my feet. My muscles are shaking, and my blood is roaring in my ears. I feel a bead of sweat roll down my neck as I turn my head to him. Dread snakes its way through my bowels and coils up.
He will die.
“Darius, go home.”
“What happened? What’s wrong?” He grabs me by the shoulders, ignoring my dismissal. His eyes are burning holes into me, and everything inside threatens to pour out through them.
My life is like a bow. I choose an arrow and my target. I know exactly what I want. Holding my bow, I’m steady. I know what I’m doing when I draw the string back. Taking control of my life’s direction, I aim. Tension strengthens me and I’m so sure I’ll hit my mark. I make choices, I give parts of myself up, but I’m always aiming my path toward destruction somehow. The bowstring slips from my fingers and I can no longer control where that arrow is going. It soars, spirals wildly, and eventually plummets.
My arrows are my choices. Targets, hopes and motives. Too often I resent who I am, and what my life has become. I resent the stress and strain of making heavy choices and holding steady. I’ve been trying to stay strong and be who I am. I’ve been trying to let the arrows fly, let go of what I can’t control — praying to my God that I don’t miss my mark. But no matter what I do, I can’t outrun Death. I can’t protect or defend anyone.
“So, it’s true,” A shrieking voice interrupts my thoughts.
A woman with sandy brown hair and honey-golden eyes crosses the dirt road in a few purposeful strides. She marches right up to Darius and I. Out of the shade of a neighboring hovel behind her, Moriya slinks into view. She glares at
me.
“Moriya told me you are a whore, Keres!” She jabs a long bony finger at me and raises a brow so high her forehead creases deeply on one side of her face. Her lips flare as she says: “Resayla’s daughter. I’ve trapped my son into wedlock with a slut!”
“Seraphina?” I push away from Darius.
“You will address me as Lady Prycell, Keres. Don’t assume because your mother tricked me into sealing my only son’s fate with yours that you may call me by my name.” Her voice comes out so low, her words so quick and sure. “You were a black-haired baby girl the first time I saw you. If Moriya hadn’t told me who you were, I’d never have believed you were that same child, White Reaper.”
“Lady Prycell, call me by my name once more and I’ll send you with my mother,” I step forward to meet her. “You will call me Coroner. That’s who I am.”
“Who you are is my son’s wife! A woman I assumed would be raised in virtue and honor. You’ve turned your feet away from home. And here you are, bedding another in his absence.” She puckers her lips with distaste.
“You heard this from your son’s mistress.”
“Moriya was not his mistress. He wasn’t married to you when—”
“He was promised to me! That made him as good as mine!” I point my finger toward those livid yellow eyes. “Moriya’s just jealous.”
“Jealous, yes. Rightfully so. She loves my son and it’s clear you do not. She told me you’re a dishonorable woman. For the sake of your mother, I didn’t believe her. Until now.” She knots her hands together. “It’s clear you will never love my son. Better she acts on her convictions and in his best interest. It makes her more worthy to be my daughter than your claim does.”
“Till my body is cold in the earth, Silas is mine and I am his.” My voice breaks.
“I do not recognize your vows. I don’t accept them.”
“I vowed before the Gods and my people. Hate to break it to you, but your opinion doesn’t matter.”
“Your people are not my people or my son’s people. I will have this marriage annulled.”
The Sunderlands Page 30
