Curiosity stirs. “Show me.”
As we stroll, I glance down. She’s shorter than I by several inches, and I glance over the marks on her arms. Bruises. Cuts. Others are covered with linen strips. My lips tighten. “Do you truly believe Petyr is a good man?”
She follows my gaze. The smile she seems to wear constantly, small and unthreatening, grows. “He doesn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I believe he is passionate and driven. He barely sleeps, seeking a solution that will keep us safe. Thriving, even. He tells me often how important it is that the legacy he inherited survives.”
I eye the marks again. It’s not the first time I’ve seen how those in power feel the need to demonstrate it against those who cannot fight back. “How did you come to be engaged?”
We walk through an arched display of what I assume would once have been flowers. Now, we duck beneath blackened, crumbling lichen. My feet crunch against it on the path, and I grimace at the sludge that seeps from it, sticking to my skin.
“We were betrothed as children.” Her lips purse as she raises her dress to stop it dragging through the moss. “My father held much territory in Boreas, and the engagement made sense to Petyr’s father. I travelled with Petyr on the boat from Boreas. We were the only non-military ship to make it through, butmy parents did not survive. Thankfully, Petyr honored the engagement.”
“So it was not a love match.” The words slip out. “I apologize. That was rude.”
“Not at first.” She sounds amused. “But it grew. For me, at least. I am often told what a devoted fiancée I am. He needs someone in his corner, Selene.”
I wonder if Petyr feels the same. “Why did you wish to speak with me?”
She stumbles, and my hand lands on her arm to steady her. Wendlyn’s fingers settle over mine, “Thank you.”
She does not pull it away. Her hand is warm.
My voice sharpens. “Remove your hand.”
She lifts it immediately, holding up her palms. “It is my turn to apologize. I was curious.”
I take a step back. Reaching for the shadows, reassured when they immediately respond. “About what, precisely?”
She eyes the darkness building in my palms, but turns her back and continues walking. “Do you know what I can do?”
“You’re a peristi. You create things from their base form.” I follow, keeping a slight distance between us. The shadows remain in my hands.
“We do like to force ourselves into these boxes.” She sighs. “That is true. But I can use my maegis toamplify. I take what already exists, and I can increase it. With my touch, a tier one vis could reach the fourth level, at least temporarily. It is why Petyr uses me for the Reaping. I can sense power levels.”
“I have never heard of such a thing.”
Her gaze slips back to me. “Just because you have not heard of it does not make it an impossibility.”
She stops at the top of the path, where packed mud turns to cobblestone beneath my feet. Her hand lifts, one delicately carved fingernail pointing. “That is the compound.”
I join her, still wary as my eyes sweep ahead. “The Caelumnai do love their walls.”
This wall is taller than any I have seen. Taller even than the wall of adralite that surrounds the temple, this one built with layers of stone. In front of us, the path keeps an unnaturally straight line ahead. On one side are the temple walls, the soft, shimmering adralite familiar. A few meters separate it from the new wall on the opposite side, an ugly gray structure that reaches further than my eyes can see. “Where is the entrance?”
“Further down, but you’ll find it difficult to see. It opens only from the inside,” Wendlyn says. “A security measure. There is a tower, where guards oversee who enters and exits.”
The tall wooden structure sits just inside the walls. Figures in familiar metal watch us, others scanning the area hidden behind.
Frowning, I stare at it, my confusion growing. “Where is the noise?”
One slim red brow arches. “What do you mean?”
I step forward. “There should be… it doesn’t matter.”
We begin walking. No matter how hard I listen, the only noise that reaches me is the whistle of the breeze. It rumples my wings, tosses my hair around my face as my hastily-created braid unravels.
But from those gray walls, there is only silence.
Wendlyn sighs as we move out of sight, the path sloping down once more to take us back around in a circle to the gates. “Thank you for your company. I will admit that life here can be isolating. Most times, I seem to have only Petyr for company. Or the Metallurgist, occasionally.”
