Four

by Archer Kay Leah

  Drawing his fingers down to his cheeks, he opened his eyes and stared at the dark red ceiling. How could he have been that stupid? That selfish? After accusing Tash of the same things, he'd reacted rashly, striking out. He knew the end would come. Was that the real reason he was angry? Because he charged ahead anyway, wanting to believe they could remain friends despite what lay beneath their relationship? Or was it because he was on edge after seeing Tash suffer? The last several days had tested him, forcing him to choke down emotions he could not tolerate. To know the last trial could take Tash's life with little effort made a mockery of everything Mayr did for Tash. What was the point? How could Tash believe it was the only thing he could do? There had to be more to the trial. There had to be more to all of it. Otherwise, none of it made sense.

  Mayr tilted his head and gazed across the meagrely decorated room to Lira. Curled into one of the black, cushioned chairs beside the window, she slept with her head propped up on her fist, leaning into the curved back and thick arm. With her other arm, she hugged a mauve pillow that matched the thick curtains. She still wore her dressing robe and nightdress but had wrapped a dark blue shawl around her shoulders, the bottom of which draped over her lap. Her dark hair spilled over both shoulders and hid part of her face, her features relaxed and peaceful.

  He frowned. How long had she been there? Why was she there at all? He had been drunk, not wounded. She should have been with Aeley.

  Slow and quiet, Mayr slipped out of the bed and crossed the room to the simple, unadorned table at the other end. As he stared down at the bowl of water and clean linens beside it, his last conversation with Tash replayed through his thoughts. Splashing water on his face and cursing the bursting ache behind his eyes, he recalled the whispered words that would have warmed his heart in any other circumstance. He had not expected Tash to say he loved him. Of all the times to say it, it had to be then.

  But it was said, and that's worth something, he told himself, drying his face and hands, watching the curtains billow around the blue-green window pane. He had accused Tash of not caring, but it was the opposite. If anything, Tash cared too much. After everything, Tash believed he could not change his mind without punishment. The saddest part might just be the fact he doesn't think he's worth anything more than what the Four thinks he is, like he's something to be bartered away at market, negotiated over until striking the right price. So he's doing exactly what he's done before—pushing me away, just like he did his family. Out of protection. Out of love. Trying to save us while he tries to save himself.

  Mayr scowled as he removed his pants and put on a fresh pair, hiding behind the open door of the armoire in case Lira awoke and turned around. I'm not convinced he doesn't have a death wish. And there's that constant sadness nothing ever seems to take away. Is he going through the trial because he's blinded by duty or because he's trying to escape all of those things eating at him? I wasn't joking when I said I understood guilt, and he knows that. I'd tackle guilt at the knees and rip its face off for him. It's all part of whatever's really going on between us.

  With every effort to be noiseless, he finished grooming and braided his hair. As he pulled on the rest of his clothes, he knew what he had to do.

  I'm a fighter, and I'm not done. I can't put a beating on what he's going through, but I'm not giving up that easily, even with my pathetic lapse last night. I don't care what he said. I'm not leaving. I'm not Inesta, Naliss, or Erithe. I'm not his family, running out of resources or hope. He should have more than a working life, hiding behind tomes and riddles and an elite, sacred title. After all, Emeraliss, right? Goddess of Love. This is Her business; Her grand idea. Mayr returned to the bed to retrieve his boots and pull them on. He said he couldn't get out of the Trials without a good reason. He said he needed redemption. He said a lot of things that would fall into Emeraliss's domain. So why—why—would there not be a way to have both? If he was so damn unworthy, nothing about Emeraliss would factor into this. But it does. And I can't believe for a moment She'd want him to die or give up. We're supposed to cherish life and love. Nurture them. Not throw them away. It doesn't make any sense.

  Settled on the edge of the bed, he breathed deep, thinking of what he needed to say. Tash believed the only way to manage their relationship was never to see each other again, but it resolved nothing. The decision was unreasonable. They were bound to see each other, unless one of them left the area, maybe even the region. Mayr would not leave Aeley and Tash wanted to remain a priest. Furthermore, as an Uldana, Tash would attend feasts, gatherings, rites, and tend to other matters of the community. They would be in the same room on more than one occasion because of their occupations.

  It's better to meet it head-on. We won't be together, fine, but I refuse to just sit around, never seeing him again. Betta made that choice for me once, and I'm not letting him do the same. Not when he doesn't really want it. Not from the way he was acting. Words are one thing; the way he held me is another. He said he needed me; that I eased his pain. If that's not a cry for help, I don't know what is.

  Tash had said his piece. It was time for Mayr to say his.

  Intentions and determination roused, Mayr approached Lira with soft steps. He kneeled on the floor and caressed her shoulder.

  Lira shivered and opened her eyes. She focused on him, pulling her shawl tight. "Good morning."

  "Why aren't you in bed?"

  "We were worried about you."

  "And as sweet as that is, where's Ae? You should be in your room."

  "She had the previous shift." Lira yawned behind her hand. "I sent her to get sleep. She needs to be prepared for the meeting with Council this morning. They wanted to talk to her about the Shar-denn issue."

  Mayr grimaced. He should attend the meeting with them. But Tash, the trial—it won't wait. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake either of you last night. I shouldn't have been down there." He clasped her hand. "I'll make it up to you."

  "It happens." Lira touched his cheek, her gaze sympathetic. "You're allowed to fall apart. Next time, just tell us what you're going through. We hate worrying about you." She eyed his clothes and shaven face. "You're up early, considering."

  "I've got something to do."

  Lira tossed the pillow into the chair across from her before she stood and accepted Mayr's hand. "Do you want me to join you? I don't have to go with Aeley, not if you need me."

  "No, I need to do it by myself. But thank you." Mayr kissed her cheek and hooked his arm around hers. "Let's get you to bed."

  "If you insist," Lira said, winking. She leaned her head on his shoulder and followed his lead down the corridor to the room she shared with Aeley. "I meant what I said earlier. I don't know what exactly happened yesterday, but you're a good man. Anyone who doesn't appreciate that—there's no hope for them."

  They stopped outside the bedroom. Before Lira could open the door, Mayr embraced her tightly. "Thanks."

  "Anytime." Lira kissed his cheek. "Now go on, go fix it. Maybe you both just had a horrible day."

  If only, Mayr argued, waiting for Lira to enter the room before he walked away. None of his doubts would deter him. Tash may have given up on them, but he would not.

  He bypassed guards on his way from the estate and told them to continue at their posts before they could ask where he was headed. His walk to the temple was just as quiet and unencumbered; precisely what he needed to work out what he would tell Tash. At the top of his list was his refusal to let Tash poison himself for any reason. Tradition be damned. It's ludicrous—nothing more than an excuse to torture him or force him out of existence. It doesn't help anyone.

  You realize he won't listen to you, right? The nagging inner voice scolded him from between his angry thoughts. This is his world, his choice. This is what they do, and it works for them. Besides, who are you to judge? Look at what you've done with your life. Fighting, drawing blood, sending people to rot in prisons for the rest of their lives. Not to mention the verbal whipping your mother would give y
ou for insulting her, your father, and, oh, just about everyone who believes in greater beings.

  Mayr ascended the white steps to the temple. None of it mattered. Nothing would stop him from trying. He rushed between the columns to the closed doors. Without looking at the vines and crystals, he pushed open the doors and strode into the temple, greeted by thick, incensed air. The group of priests gathered around the altar in the centre of the room whirled around, greeting him with surprise followed by irritation. Anger flashed across the faces of two priestesses.

  Paying no attention to the statues and priests, Mayr returned the gaze of only one person standing beside the black altar.

  Tash.

  Dressed only in white pants tied at his hips, Tash stared at Mayr, his expression blank. From beside him, Priestess Kee and an old priest in red robes stepped forward, hands raised, shielding Tash.

  Mayr charged toward the altar, weaving past the half dozen priests reaching for him. He would say what he came to say even if they hated it. "Don't do it," he told Tash. "Please don't do it. If not for you then for me."

  As Mayr neared, Tash backed away from the altar. He said nothing but blinked quickly. His eyes were dark and fatigued. His hands shook. With his shoulders slumped and growing panic splashed across his face, he appeared a different man.

  "Tash—" Hands grabbed Mayr from behind. Fingertips dug into his shoulders. More hands pulled him back by the arms. Two stern-faced Metah priests stepped in front of Mayr and shoved him. "Would you quit that?" He lunged forward, fighting to get loose.

  The grips on him tightened, enough for sharp fingernails to pierce his skin through his shirt. They jerked him back, rough and unyielding.

  "Let me go! Tash, do something!" Mayr struggled to escape, considering every defensive tactic he could think of. The mob of priests restrained him too well. They were too strong to overpower without weapons. The two Metah priests who had shoved him seized his arms. They rammed their shoulders into his chest and moved his legs back with theirs. Forcing him toward the doors, they grunted as they shuffled his weight and matched his fight.

  "You must leave, Mayr of the Dahes." Kee's loud voice carried over the noise of the scuffle. "You are not welcome. You are damaging and have wrought enough chaos. Your temptations have hurt Halataldris enough. We will not allow more bloodshed."

  "Bloodshed? What are you talking about?" Mayr shouted, kicking at the feet of the priests. The doorway was right behind him. The glass eyes of the statues glared at him as the priests drove him further. If he could reach his knife, he could coerce the priests into leaving him alone—then suffer the consequences for having the audacity to attack. "Tash? Tash! What is she—"

  He froze, staring at Tash's arms. A chill raced through his body, prickling his skin.

  Bracers. He's not wearing his bracers. Because his wrists, they're—no. Tash, you didn't. Tell me you didn't.

  The priests steered Mayr over the threshold, but he could not tear his gaze from the bandages around Tash's forearms. They were wound tight, the left bandage bound higher than what Tash's bracers normally covered.

  Just as Tash turned his back, a flash of dark red on Tash's left arm made Mayr nauseous.

  Blood.

  The way Tash's arm hung limply by his side was worse. He moved only his right arm as he lit a candle.

  The price of a broken heart.

  No. No, no, no…

  "Fight it!" Mayr yelled, resisting the priests. He needed to get to Tash before he cut himself again.

  Tash did not respond. Beneath the shaded feathers of his tattoo, his back muscles strained with every noise Mayr made. When Kee touched his shoulder, Tash nodded and turned. Without glancing at the doorway, he followed Kee and the other Uldana priest to the corridor. They disappeared past the pillars and into the shadows.

  "And so it is the will of the Temple," a priest with a deep, husky voice said in Mayr's ear, "that you be gone."

  The priests tossed Mayr to the ground. They entered the temple and slammed the doors shut. The stone beneath his feet rumbled. The sound reverberated through his ears. The crystals danced furiously.

  "Forget you, too!" Mayr shouted, pushing himself up and standing. For being peaceful, the priests knew how to express their displeasure. Cautious and pained, he pressed his palm to the door. "Don't do it," he whispered, unable to forget Tash's bandages. If only he had returned the night before. If only he could have gotten there sooner.

  He stepped back, bumping into a body behind him. A hand gripped his wrist.

  "This way, young man. This way."

  Mayr yanked his hand away and spun toward the hooded man. "Would you people—"

  You. Armamae.

  To Mayr's surprise, Armamae took Mayr's wrist again and pulled. "This way." His hold was much tighter than Mayr expected. Rather than fight, Mayr followed Armamae down the stairs. On the last step, Armamae leaned close. "Come back when the moon is at its highest point," he mumbled. "Come to the side door in the west, under cloak, and be quick. Do not be seen."

  "Why?"

  Armamae smirked. "If you love him, you already know." The smirk gone, Armamae climbed the stairs, leaving Mayr more confused.

  And something tells me it'll only be worse from here because, honestly, how could it possibly get any better?

  Chapter Eleven

  Mayr followed Armamae's instructions to the last detail. He could not afford to be hauled away and forbidden to return.

  Because wouldn't that just make Ae's day? I already skipped out on the meeting with the Council and dinner with her and Lira. Mayr pulled the hood of his black cloak further over his face, slowly ascending the temple steps. Partially to make little noise but mostly because the tall trees and cloud cover made it too dark to see where one step ended and the next began. At the top, he recognized the outline of a door, thankful for the sudden thin glimmer of light that slipped between the tree leaves.

  He stared at the door. Was he supposed to knock? Wait? Thanks for the help, Armamae. You're really good at the—

  The door creaked, opening slightly. Mayr flattened against the wall behind the door.

  "Are you there?" a hoarse whisper asked. "Mayr?"

  Mayr crept toward the crack. "Yeah."

  The door opened to reveal Armamae in a narrow, dimly lit staircase. Silent, he ushered Mayr inside then closed the door softly. He grabbed Mayr's hand and rushed up the stairs. They continued down a short, dark passageway and rounded a corner to a longer corridor. Halfway up the hallway, Armamae opened a door and pushed Mayr inside. He closed the door just as quickly.

  Mayr stopped in the middle of the candlelit room, recognizing the tapestry and furniture. One glance at the bed crippled his hope.

  Tash lay on the mattress, sweating under a thin sheet, his arms still bandaged. He tossed and turned, whimpering between strangled cries. A stream of tears left a telltale path of agony down his face.

  Agony Mayr felt with him.

  In a fight with his own tears, Mayr forced himself to breathe. Short, shallow breaths were all he could manage. Anything else hurt. His chest burned, seizing as if someone had punched a hole through him and mashed his heart. He was too late. The damage was done.

  Armamae withdrew the cloak from Mayr's shoulders. "He has been under since we ended our evening prayers," he said, draping the cloak over a chair in the corner. "I do not know how long it will take, but he is pushing through." As he passed the dresser, he picked up a wooden bowl and metal pitcher. "Go on, sit." He gestured to the chair beside the bed with his elbow.

  "I don't—"

  "Sit."

  Mayr obeyed. When Armamae handed him the bowl and filled it with water from the pitcher, Mayr watched tiny purple leaves, yellow seeds, and red granules dance and cling to the white linen at the bottom of the bowl. Spices and bitter herbs scented the air.

  "They will help the sickness." Armamae returned the pitcher to the dresser. "Treat it as you would any other."

  Still struggling to take a deepe
r breath, Mayr wiped Tash's face and chest with the moistened cloth, his nose crinkling at the strong scent. Tash was hot to the touch, his skin flushed worse than after the third trial. He shivered and shirked Mayr's touch. Sounds that resembled words passed his lips, but they were incoherent and overcome by mournful cries.

  I don't know what else to do. Tell me. Tell me what I have to do. I'll do anything, Mayr pleaded, swallowing the emotional outburst banging on his insides, demanding to be unleashed. The cruel images his imagination conjured of Tash dying were horrible enough, feasting on his fears and wreaking havoc on his nerves. His hands were unsteady. His sanity was crumbling. He was not a healer; he was a soldier. Fighting was what he knew. Slashing, stabbing, kicking, punching, biting, slamming a body down—they were what he did to win. I can't do that with this. It's an invisible enemy. Swords and fists aren't any good. They don't matter. I don't matter. I can't kick this thing where it hurts. I can't defend you. I can't save you. I can't help you.

  Tears slipped from his eye. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away. "Why am I here?"

  Armamae moved to Mayr's side. "This is not an easy calling, dedicating one's life to sacred beings," he said, his voice even and clear. "We live by extensive rules. I am happy to abide by those rules—I never wanted anything or anyone else. Still, I understand there is a time for strict rules and a time to let them fall as they may and run toward truth." He cocked his head and watched Tash's face pull and pinch. "Most of the others believe celibacy and the avoidance of romantic entanglements are necessary to those of us pledged as Uldanas. Certainly our forebearers did, prescribing them as absolutes, declaring them required measures to preserve our sacred duty. They explained romantic love gets in the way of serving to our fullest ability, and it is accounted for in detail and a persuasive collection of anecdotes we memorize."