1
The Dawn Skimmer sliced through the harbor’s blue-green water and sailed beneath the founding twin oracles’ statues that acted as a gate to the harbor. Salt-crusted chains dangled limply in the statues’ hands, hiding mechanisms that might be pulled taut to stop a fleeing pirate ship or merchants evading harbor duties. The bronze statues watched them sail past, their metal patinated with age and the hems of their robes crusted white by the sea. Their outstretched arms cast long shadows on deck. Liane had read about them while preparing for her trip. Depictions of them were scattered throughout the city, though the harbor statues were the most well-known. They were famous healers whose vision of the future had helped establish the first church in Basilia after the Corruption. They’d traveled the continent spreading the word of Cyra’s holy light by performing healing miracles.
Liane turned her eyes from the statues to the sprawling holy city of Basilia. It was early, and heavy banks of fog hung low, bright-white stucco buildings emerged like crooked teeth, leading Liane’s eyes toward the gilt resplendence of the temple, Liane’s new home, and the church’s first holy temple. Cyra’s golden star atop the highest spire reflected the sun into Liane’s eyes, forcing her to look away, and she turned back to the open ocean. The sun had just started to rise over Basilia, but the waning gibbous moon still hung defiantly in the sky, as if the Nameless Goddess refused to give up her place to her golden sister. Liane wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she’d become enraptured with the phases of the moon, hoping like a fool that Erich would risk coming to see her once more. Just to give a proper goodbye. That was, until she’d set sail for Basilia. He wouldn’t risk his life for her in the holy city. The Midnight Guard had plastered his wanted posters across Artria, and if he were smart, he’d disappear from the continent for good, just as she should banish him from her thoughts.
Their weeks at sea were meant to have acted as a time of reflection. She’d never traveled more than a few days from Artria. And at the outset of her journey, she’d been confident in her decision to leave. Basilia was known as the city of healing. Many came in search of impossible cures offered by the continent’s best healers. Mother had summoned some of their best and brightest, trying to cure her fevers, all while keeping the secret of the sword in her back and the source of her illness from them. Her frustration at the secrets and lies, had fueled her through the first leg of their journey—that, and righteous purpose. But as days and leagues had passed, and the familiar snowcapped mountains had softened to rolling hills dotted with sheep and cows, the pang of homesickness had crept over her.
Her life, until now, had been thoroughly entwined with her family’s. They shared at least one meal a day together. They’d talked, laughed, and fought. They’d also lied to her face for thirteen years. The first time she’d seen a dolphin surfing the wake of their boat, Liane had turned to point it out to Aristea, only to remember she was alone. Then she’d remembered why. Aristea, Mother, Father, and even Mathias all had known. Everyone had hidden the truth of the sword embedded in her back and let her believe she was afflicted by a mysterious illness—one that might have been cured by Basilia’s miracle workers. But they’d rather keep up appearances than let her live a full life. The sword was Cyra’s blessing, but it felt more like a curse. It sapped her of strength and plagued her with fevers and an aching back.
She loved her family, and a small part of her understood why they’d hidden the truth. But a greater part of her was still mad at them. She’d thought distance would lessen her anger and resentment, but it hadn’t, and instead, she was filled with a strange concoction of longing for him and resentment. Perhaps her family being flung to the winds was inevitable. Mathias was on a quest to uncover the elven plots in the feral lands. Liane was in Basilia seeking answers; Aristea was in Artria doing her duty as future empress. Was this all the goddess’ plan? Maybe Liane could answer that in Basilia.
She gripped the railing tighter as they rocked along the wake of a passing merchant ship. And she thought sympathetically of Luzie, who was below deck, clinging to a bucket. The choppy harbor would only make her seasickness worse. She turned around and nearly collided with Ludwig.
His expression was shuttered, and his gaze was fixed on the distant shore. It was a guard’s expression—professional, cool, and detached. Before he’d resumed service, she’d thought they’d repaired their bridges, but betrayal was a slow wound to heal. They’d made amends, but the easy camaraderie they’d once shared felt far off. She couldn’t look at him without thinking about the secrets he’d passed on to Heinrich, or fearing he was using again. Stardust always eventually killed its users, and yet somehow, Ludwig had recovered, unlike Elias, who’d wasted to nothing.
Their eyes met, and she felt a wash of guilt. She should be glad he’d survived despite the odds. And doubting him after everything felt cruel.
“We’re nearly there,” he said, nodding toward the dock slowly coming into view.
“Mm,” she replied. Few words came to mind. Maybe she was exhausted after a long journey, or the unacknowledged hurt and suspicion froze her tongue.
“Nervous?” Ludwig asked. It was an olive branch, and not the first he’d offered.
“I’m not worried about you using again…” Liane said and regretted it instantly. It landed wrong, and she watched the goodwill wither in his gaze. Things were different now, and she didn’t know how to fix their friendship. “I mean, what’s there to be nervous about?”
“Does my vow inconvenience you?” he asked, evoking the promise he’d made to their deceased friend, Elias. Their mutual love for him had bonded them, but even that was tainted. Ludwig had loved Elias, but Elias had loved her and begged Ludwig to protect her on his deathbed. The very foundation of her and Ludwig’s friendship had been built on a lie.
She held her hands behind her back and leaned into the railing as she wrestled with her churning emotions. Now wasn’t the time. Later, when she’d had more time to reflect, they’d have a talk. But not today. As it was, she should be heading below deck to check on Luzie and change out of her sweaty, salt-stained traveling gown and into her procession gown.
Sailors scurried about the deck, shouting instructions to one another. As she passed them, they ducked their heads and made the sign of the star against their brows. Liane’s cheeks flamed. They’d been doing that since she’d stepped onboard. Everyone treated her with this strange sort of awed reverence. It made her feel a bit like she was up on a stage and didn’t know her next lines. Being a princess, she expected gawking, but that was when she was beside her family. Now Liane was alone in the spotlight, the wielder of an unknown magic and the goddess’ chosen.
She felt like a freak. She was a bit of an anomaly within the church, too. The Avatheos had assured her he’d foreseen her coming, but he hadn’t really explained what her role was within the goddess’ grand plan. She’d pressed him early on in their journey—as much as she could press the Avatheos—but he’d been vague about the details and assured her all would be revealed once they reached Basilia. If she were being honest, the Avatheos still terrified her. She’d never seen his face despite having lived in close quarters with him for weeks, and he’d hardly left his cabin, presumably because he was in deep religious contemplation. Liane didn’t get seasick, but she craved the sun. She needed to feel it seep into her skin, and the more time she spent in the light, the fewer fevers and less pain she had. That was all he’d told her. But it wasn’t a cure. She wouldn’t feel better until they’d drawn the sword from her body.
Their progress slowed as they approached the dock, and she spied a crowd gathering to greet them. She’d been paraded in front of crowds her whole life. It shouldn’t bother her. But a swarm of butterflies erupted in her stomach. This was her first public appearance since the Sun Ceremony, where she’d glowed. Had rumors of her power preceded them, and had the crowd come to catch a glimpse of her strange ability? Or were they hoping to beg the Avatheos for a miracle?
“They know we’re here,” the captain shouted. “Look alive, boys.”
The crew seemed to have had a fire lit under them because they moved faster, grabbing ropes and shouting to one another. Liane scampered below deck so as to not be underfoot and met Luzie at the entrance to their cabin. Her complexion was sickly-green, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Luzie clutched a bundle beneath her arm, which she thrust toward Liane without ceremony as Liane approached.
“The Ava—” Luzie gulped, then inhaled, eyes closed, as the ship rocked. “The Avatheos has ordered you to be veiled for your procession through the city,” she managed in a gasp, before rushing over to her bucket and retching.
The cabin smelled of sickness, and Luzie’s clothes hung loose on her frame. Thank the stars they’d arrived. Liane wasn’t sure how much more Luzie could take.
“I’ll help you in—” Luzie said before retching again.
“Rest. I am capable enough to dress myself.”
She left Luzie and went to their cabin, where she unfurled the veil and robe the Avatheos had provided. She crinkled her nose at it. The veil was a thick material and would fall down below her breasts, obscuring her face like the priests and priestesses of the Church of Sol. Liane wasn’t a priestess, and wearing a veil seemed sacrilegious.
“He can’t be serious,” she murmured to herself.
With a shake of her head, she tossed the veil on her cot and compromised by putting on the robes. When she returned to the deck, the veiled priests and priestesses were waiting for her, along with a green Luzie and stern Ludwig. The Avatheos turned toward her and raised a hand that halted her in place.
“Where is your veil?” the Avatheos asked, and though she couldn’t see his face, she felt his stare slide up and down her body, sending pinprick chills down her arms and neck. “A piece of the goddess lives within you. The common folk shouldn’t look you in the eyes. It is unseemly.”
“I’ve had the blade for thirteen years. Thousands of people have looked at me.” Liane threw up her arms, searching the others’ faces for support. But none would raise their eyes to meet hers, not even Ludwig or Luzie.
“But that was before they knew. Your image and how you present yourself are crucial. How do you think your mother inspires such love and devotion?”
