“I had nothing to say to you,” he answered with a shrug.
“And now?”
“Now, Ariana has decided to see good in you and your kind, and so I will try to understand her decision.”
I nodded, and again we fell silent. The darkness around us grew still, allowing for my mind to wander under the backdrop of Ariana’s distant murmurs.
Remaining outside that temple was for no one other than myself. If Bavadrins tried to revolt, then we would easily regain control. If anyone harmed Ariana, then we would just take whoever was chosen as the next Leader Superior. It was not for my Lysians that I sat on the steps of the entrance to a Bavadrin temple. It was for her. I was protecting her, only to be tortured by the discomfort she felt while under the spell of that poison she drank.
Why did I find myself wishing to protect her? Was it because inher own way, she tried to protect me when I was a prisoner? Was it because I believed her to be a compassionate Bavadrin and not the witch I first thought she may be? Did the reason matter? Eventually, my brothers would lose their patience and demand either her compliance or her life. My stomach clenched at the thought.
Since I’ve known her, Ariana always held her head high. She never hid or ran from the horrors biting at her heels. Every obstacle she faced head-on, and with a grace I never could have imagined a Bavadrin to have. I was fairly certain she would not agree to stand with us while under Lysian control, which left her ultimately forfeiting her life. Would she also face her death with her head held high, or would she finally break and beg for mercy? Could I order her death? Could I do it with my own hands?
I refused to force Lysians to do something I could not do myself.
“I want you to know that I do not intend for any harm to come to her,” I found myself saying to Willis.
He nodded without looking at me. “We shall see how good your word is.”
28
ARIANA
Iwas freezing, yet strangely numb. It was as if death bound me in his icy embrace. Like iron bars wrapped me so tightly that I did not know where my skin ended and the cold began. My body vibrated as it uselessly tried to warm itself.
Everything was made worse by the endless spinning. I could not decipher whether it was I or the room that spun. Nausea beckoned, threatening whatever remained in my stomach to come up. I forced it down, squeezing my eyes shut, but that only made things worse. When my eyes snapped open, things got worse yet again. There was no escape.
Then abruptly, the obscure spinning room stilled. Darkness turned gray, before lightening further. My body stopped shaking, and I no longer felt cold or alone. I sat on the stone where I had been placed in the temple, though I was no longer in that same room; I was in a white realm of nothingness. In the distance, a figure approached, coming into view. Its skin was as white as the place I sat in, evident by the visible long thin fingers peaking past dark sleeves. Its face and features were unknown, hidden by adark hood. Without asking who they were, I understood. Their heavy presence seeped into my bones. It was the Spirit.
I felt almost nothing at that moment. Fear vanished, along with caution and joy. A strangely simple peace surrounded me. I existed in that place to speak to the Spirit. There was no need for anything else. Yet, I was still myself. My emotions were known and present, though it was as if they were behind a curtain, hidden away so that my mind was uninhibited by them.
The Spirit stood several feet from me, motionless. No sound came from it. A moment passed, and I broke the silence with the question I burned to know the answer to.
“Are the Bavadrins cursed?” I asked, knowing that the Spirit could answer such things. That was the entire reason for the Ascension ceremony. The Spirit chose the Leader Superior who thus met the Spirit to be enlightened, to better be equipped to lead their people.
The Spirit appeared to shift without moving, its face remaining hidden. “No. Far from it,” it answered in a voice neither masculine nor feminine.
“How so?” I asked, my tone mirroring its calm demeanor. Though I could not make out the features of the Spirit, I knew it was peaceful. I also knew myself to be safe.
“Look in the mirror when you ponder that question,” it replied, and I frowned. It seemed that the Spirit answered questions in riddles similar to Edda’s style whenever she answered about her visions.
“Are the Lysians to be trusted?” I asked instead.
“Do you trust the Lysians?” it asked in turn.
“I want to,” I admitted.
“That was not the question.”
“Then yes, I suppose I do. Is that foolish of me?”
“Not at all.”
“Why me? Why was I chosen for this position? And why was someone as horrid as Fraser ever even chosen?”
The Spirit tilted its head unnaturally. “Fraser served his purpose. As for you, would you have preferred that the boy who challenged you be the victor? The one with the sweet-tasting blood of fear?”
“That was you. Who made me behave so . . . wild?” While standing before Shal, I felt as if I were on a boat and someone else began steering it. I was not in control, stuck on that bit of wood in the middle of an ocean while someone else manned the helm.
