“Sorcha.” She swallowed hard, nervously playing with a strand of dark, unruly hair that had escaped the confines of her white headband. “My lady, I did not want to imply…”
I gave her a reassuring smile. “Do not worry, Sorcha. There is no right or wrong answer to what thelyaurenydepict. They can meananything you see in them, anything that guides you through the darkness of the night. In fact…” My voice softened further. “I like your explanation quite a lot.”
My fingers trailed over the eight stars I had made first, the stars that still haunted me. Memories of Belekoroz flooded back, bittersweet and piercing.
“Do you think they ever touch?” I asked. “Those hands?”
“In the old stories, they’re lovers,” Sorcha said, a wistful longing in her tone. “Kept apart by fate. They yearn for each other across the night sky, always close, but separated for eternity.”
“But that’s so sad,” Cassia cried, echoed by the other acolytes. “I prefer the story of the bowl, made to pour our lady’s grace over all beings.”
I barely registered her words or the flurry of respectful curtsies that followed. My gaze was captured by those stars. “Sometimes life is sad,” I murmured, more to myself than to the young girls.
I went through the rest of the Lyrnight preparations with them, smiling at the right points, but my mind was elsewhere. The Allfather had declared it time for Aramaz and me to be married. The king planned to finally announce a date for our bonding ceremony, making this year’s celebration especially grand. I had not been able to sum up any enthusiasm at the prospect.
When the acolytes left, I retreated to the private part of my quarters, telling Elodia I would retire for the night. A worried expression flashed over her face as she fetched my nightdress and opened the bindings of my gown. My dresses had become more elaborate, exquisite works of art, heavy with embroidery and gleaming gemstones. They were a sign of my station, like the glittering crown Elodia carefully placed on my vanity after lifting its now familiar weight from my head.
“It will do you good to rest a little, my queen,” she said as she brushed out my hair and tamed it into a simple braid. Her gentle touch was a small comfort, a reminder of the care she had always shown me. Though the tall, graceful Anima was too reserved to comment on my lingering melancholy, she had surely noticed it—all those restless nights when my bed stayed untouched, unusual even for one of the Aurea.
Before I could lie down, a loud knock echoed through the room. Elodia went to answer it. “She has already retired to bed,” I heard her say to whoever was outside.
“Let him in,” I interrupted, having recognized my betrothed’s voice.
Aramaz entered the room, his expression tense beneath a veneer of politeness. Whatever had brought the king to my chambers at this hour was nothing good.
“Thank you, Elodia,” I dismissed my handmaiden, a knot of apprehension tightening in my stomach. Aramaz barely waited for her to leave before stepping over to me. The flickering firelight cast shadows on his features, highlighting the deep worry etched into his brow.
“Belekoroz is completely out of control,” he burst out, pacing the room.
My heart pounded, his words dragging me back to the chaos of those first disastrous moments when Belekoroz’s powers had wreaked havoc with the creation of the Humans.“I thought you had him under control,”Aramaz had said. His accusation had cut deep. Though he had apologized later, his first reaction had told me quite clearly what he had expected of me. That in his eyes, I had failed.
“There are rumors he’s using thelyr-stones he’s acquired through Masir’s defection to influence the Humans in the north,” hecontinued now, his voice heavy with concern. “I don’t need to tell you what a catastrophe that would be if it’s true.”
I shared his fears. While the Human settlements prospered, our youngest children compensating for their shorter lifespans with a surprising ingenuity, conflicts between the races had also increased. A hunger burned in the Humans, a fierce ambition for more that I knew all too well.
“I hoped granting him a domain of his own, free of the constant conflicts with the Council, would help. Instead, it might have been a grave mistake. You need to write to him.” Aramaz didn’t slow down his pacing as he fired instructions at me. “Entice him to come back to Lyrheim and find out what he is planning.”
“No.” My reaction was immediate, an almost violent denial. “I’m not your spy.”
“Baradaz.” Aramaz’s gaze found me, sharp and demanding. “You know you are the only one—”
“Nor am I your whore.”
My outburst cut through the room like a scream, a spark of my powers escaping in a burst of light, making Aramaz freeze. We had never really talked about what had been between me and his brother, apart from one tense conversation full of unvoiced accusations and hidden regrets after Belekoroz had left. Yet I knew one thing. I couldn’t do this again. I should never have agreed to it in the first place.
For a long moment, Aramaz stared at me. For once, I didn’t bother to hide the anguish I felt behind a pleasant facade. Something flickered in his eyes, his expression softening. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I never intended to cause you pain. I just saw no other way.”
So, he had seen the misery beneath the mask I wore these days, but chose to ignore it. No wonder more doubts than ever tormentedme regarding our upcoming wedding. Belekoroz was gone, but his shadows lingered, tempting me with the knowledge that part of me wanted something different than what duty demanded of me, something more.
“Maker!” Aramaz rubbed his temple in desperation when I didn’t answer. His shoulders slumped, and I felt the sting of remorse. I hadn’t wanted to add to his burdens. Then, the king straightened again, his expression turning resolute. He reached for my hand. “Come with me. You will understand then.”
I followed him without hesitation, pausing only to throw a cloak over my nightdress and slip on some shoes. “Where are we going?” I asked as he led me down the stairs and out of the King’s Hall. The night was cold, with a hint of frost in the air.
“To Enlial,” Aramaz replied, his answer not diminishing my unease. Enlial, the Aurea of Air. The Farseer. Had they heard whispers on the wind about our fate? Had they told Aramaz something? Something the king had kept from me?
Enlial’s Hall was unlike the other Aurea’s dwellings. With Tanez’s help, they had coaxed four massive oak trees to grow skyward, their ancient trunks intertwining to form natural pillars that supported the hall. Their leaves, a deep red at this time of the year, shielded it from view. Aramaz and I shifted to spirit form, our feet touching the wooden floor high above moments later.
Ranon, Enlial’s spouse, greeted us. In his preferred form of a tall, dark-haired Aerieth with wings that echoed the soft purple shades of dusk, he stepped out of the wooden building nestled in the trees’ embrace and gave us a swift bow. The smile on his tan face was genuine. I had always liked the efficient yet warm-hearted Anima.The rock that anchors me through every storm, as Enlial often said, our fellow Aurea well aware that it was Ranon who ran the everyday duties oftheir domain when they lost themself in the calling of their magic.
