Then, much too soon, she pulled back, eyes wide and lips swollen.
“Goodbye, Erich,” she said hoarsely, and this time, when he tried to chase her, Ludwig stepped between them. And either he chose to fight him, or he let her go, for now. They both knew that once was not enough. It would never be enough.
13
Liane went straight to the Avatheos’ study after the farce of a ceremony and the knee-buckling kiss she’d shared with Erich. Questions burned on her tongue, and she couldn’t wait for another cryptic summons to get answers. His study was empty, and the priest who let her in told her the Avatheos would come and find her once his meeting was finished.
She stood poised on the threshold, eyes roving over the clutter, fascinated and terrified of the magic it represented that she didn’t fully understand. The minutes ticked by, and he didn’t return, and Liane reasoned she was safe to take a seat at least. She folded her hands in her lap, poised, still as a statue of Cyra in front of his desk, trying not to re-examine the thoughts tumbling around in her mind.
What Erich had proposed was blasphemous to even consider. Kissing Erich had been dangerous and borderline heretical. The Avatheos had warned her she’d be tempted, and surely Erich was the temptation he’d foretold. Doubts had lingered in her mind about her worthiness to become the avatar since the night of her initiation. If she was destined to save the world from darkness, then she certainly shouldn’t be fraternizing with elves. But the elf’s words continued to ring in her mind. The Avatheos was trying to draw the sword from her, to use it for himself. She recalled the hungry desperation on the Avatheos’ face, the uneasy crawling sensation she sometimes got around him. Was he trying to use her or take the sword from her? Or was the elf projecting his own wicked motives onto him?
Then, if the elf was wrong and Erich was corrupted, she needed to find a way to cure him of it. Hadn’t the Avatheos told her she could when she mastered her powers? But she didn’t really know what her powers were—healing perhaps, glowing for sure, and a sword that was infused within her body. Maybe the Avatheos knew a way to help him, and she could free him of his dragon curse. She desperately hoped that was possible. If he weren’t corrupted, it would make these lustful feelings for him acceptable at least.
Liane stood up. Priestess or avatar, or whatever she was, they didn’t have lovers. They were stripped of identity and individuality and lived simple monastic lives. That was what she was destined for. Cyra willed it, and who was she to deny the goddess?
She paced the room to distract herself from the thought of Erich’s large hand on her neck, the feel of his stubble on her chin. Something golden glimmered in the shaft of light coming from the room’s window. It was a quadrant and a celestial globe lying on the table beside a journal with dates from the year she’d been born, with constellations beside a series of numbers. The Avatheos had circled one of the constellations multiple times and written a note—dragon star and the day of her birth. A prickle raced up her spine.
The months were marked by the constellation that was most visible in the night sky—boar, rabbit, ox, deer, etc. Every thirteen years, a thirteenth month was added to the calendar, and that month was a dragon, and that year was called a dragon year. Liane had been born in a dragon year, a few days before dragon month. Maybe it was a coincidence. If she’d been born under a dragon star, someone would have told her surely? But then she thought of the sword in her back and realized there were many things her family didn’t tell her. A thought occurred, something the raven had said when her powers first manifested. This year was another dragon year. She found an almanac on the table and flipped through to her birth month and day. There was another dragon star predicted on the winter solstice. The calendar had a small star map too, and when she peered at it, she swore she saw the shape of a sword in the dragon’s mouth. But surely she was imagining that...
She backed away and tried to push it from her thoughts. She was seeing things. Erich’s dragon curse couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the sword in her back.
Liane paced the perimeter of the room to distract herself. The room was full of strange objects; she could only guess at their use. Replicas of planets hung suspended all in a row, delicately threaded together by wire. When she tapped one, it sent them all swaying back and forth so fast she feared the entire display would break, and she struggled to still them once more.
When she was certain she hadn’t broken them, she stepped away and moved across the room to where the Avatheos had left an illuminated book out on a podium. As she gazed at the picture of the tree and the pools of golden light, she realized it was almost an exact replica of the one she’d seen in the book back in Artria. But here, there was no raven, no two-toned stag, and certainly no dragon. There was simply Cyra drawing a sword from a magic pool at the base of the tree. Liane frowned as she looked at the page, then flipped a few more. She recognized other illuminated passages from the book. But there were no signs of the raven, stag, or dragon anywhere. If anything, Cyra was more present. She seemed to invade every page.
A few pages later, there was a map of Neolyra unlike any she’d seen before. Rather than marking cities, mountains, or other landmarks, there were dozens and dozens of tiny lakes, with thin, jagged rivers connecting them. But they were not in places she knew lakes to be, like the one near the royal hunting lodge.
“You wished to speak with me, your Divinity?” the Avatheos said, startling her from her snooping.
Liane spun around, caught looking at things she shouldn’t have. And she felt like a child caught swiping sweets from the kitchen.
“Forgive me. I got bored—” she started to say, but that seemed improper. “I was curious about these lakes. I’ve never seen them before.”
He walked over to pick up the book and showed her the map with the strange golden lakes and rivers. “They are the veins of magic—the lifeblood of creation and Cyra’s gift to humanity.”
Liane’s eyes widened. “The ones that were corrupted in the Corruption?” Everyone knew about them. That’s why magic was so rare and so precious now, because the Corruption had polluted the veins, and from the taint came the chimeras, who plagued cities and villages.
“Yes. Is that what you came to ask about? I thought Sylvie had given you plenty of books on the history of magic.”
Liane flushed. Sylvie must have reported back to the Avatheos. But what was worse was she’d hardly skimmed those books. If she’d taken her studies seriously, she’d know this already.
The Avatheos motioned for her to sit across from him before he answered her. And she felt compelled to do his bidding; he set the book out in front of her hand, sweeping across the illuminated vellum pages.
“Before the Corruption, the magic ran wild and aided much of humanity’s day-to-day life. Every common man, woman, and child could access its power. But The Corruption made the magic turn against us. Now, accessing its power often turns on the user, spreading corruption and disease or, in worse cases, transforming everything it touches irrevocably. That is why it is the charge of the church to keep what veins remain pure.”
“And what happens if the church doesn’t find someone who can access this magic?” Liane prompted.
“Magic corrupts without an outlet, and they start to wither,” he said and steepled his fingers. “You are fortunate that your form of corruption merely came in the form of fevers and pain. Had it gone on much longer, it would have begun to decay your body. It was reckless of the Vice Premier to hide your powers. You should have come to us.”
If it were true, that was a dire fate indeed. But Mother must have known, and for all her faults, and as angry as Liane was at her for not telling her the truth, she wouldn’t have sentenced her to death to keep a secret.
“And why would my mother do this? What was she so afraid of that she’d risk me dying of the withering?”
“Motherhood is complex.” He stood up and walked around the table to grasp her by the shoulders. “I have known your mother a long time, and though I do not doubt her love for you, she desires control. And the Golden Blade inside your back is what won her the war. If she loses it to you, then she risks losing her kingdom.”
“I would never rise up against my own mother!” The thought made her stomach turn. Her mother was far from perfect, but Liane couldn’t imagine she’d kept it a secret out of greed or a lust for power.
“Even if it were for the good of Neolyra?”
