She was brand new once more.
‘Thank you,’ Ezer said. ‘I know what it takes to invocate. To use your magic.’
It was a cherished gift, the realization that a Sacred would use her precious energy, give of herself to channel the gods’ power … forher.A stranger.
Alaris waved a hand. ‘Healing requires far less magic than wielding in battle. I’ve plenty of years left. It’s why you’re not likely to see a Sacred quite as elegantly aged as an Ehvermage Healer.’ She ran a hand across her greying braid. ‘Nomagesdon’t often appreciate the beauty of aging. The joy that it gives to know you’re still living, while others haven’t been quite so blessed. I’ll take the wrinkles any day.’
Her smile fell away as she studied the trio of dark and jagged lines across Ezer’s face.
‘I can’t do anything about the scars, I’m afraid. The Acolyte’s magic is utterly unfazed by the power of the Five,’ Alaris said. ‘It’s why this Realmbreak is so important. Why we all must be in prayer for the gods to grant us a blessing.’
‘Could it end the war?’ Ezer asked.
Alaris pursed her lips. ‘That, I do not know,’ she admitted. ‘But it could give us a fighting chance.’
Ezer nodded, and noticed Alaris’ eyes were still on her scars. ‘I’m not certain I’d know what to do with my own reflection, anyhow, without the scars. I guess it’s fitting for a Raphonminder. I’m more suited for a dirty cloak than Sacred whites.’
‘Ah,’ the woman said, smiling. ‘Well, for what it’s worth … I think the most beautiful attribute in a woman is strength.’ She placed a warm hand over Ezer’s. ‘Seems you’ve more than enough of that.’
When she slipped out into the halls now, they were nearly empty. It was just the crackling torches and the sound of the wind howling against the stained-glass windowpanes. They were lovely, marked with swirling gold runes, depictions of the gods’ many forms, and some with war eagles poised for flight.
She took her time exploring, until she found herself back on the path towards the library. Like her mind simply knew it longed to be among books.
She passed a few servants, who inclined their heads and kept pace. In darkness, the Knights were out fighting, and the Scribes were busy sleeping off the hard work of preparing for war during the day. The Eagleminders were probably busy inside the Aviary – still off limits to her, not because of Kinlear, but because she knew if she entered, she’d run into Zey.
She wondered, come morning, how many Knights would return from the Expanse.
And for a surprising moment … she was grateful Arawn would not be among the fighters.
He would be with the younglings, if what Kinlear said was true. It seemed a demotion for a crown prince. A punishment.
But for what?
She tucked the thought away as she reached the library.
It was calm inside, save for the crackling hearths and every so often, that telltale rumble of the war beyond the Citadel's stones and windows.
She began where she started, with the stacks of books she’d left. There was a cozy spot on the third floor, where a chair sat before the fire, so large it could have held two people with ease.
Ezer sighed as she sprawled out across the cushions, the tension leaving her shoulders. There was no company as lovely as a comfortable chair and a good book. Though, she supposed, she could do with more entertaining literature, for the book in her lap was an old, dusty tome, and had nothing to do with ravens or raphons. She’d decided to learn about the panthers instead: the enormous ones that ran wild in the Dornan Hills out west.
Birds, Ezer knew plenty about. Cats? Now that was a different story entirely. And perhaps that was what she’d need to brush up on instead, if she was to truly tame the beast waiting for her. It was half cat, after all.
She spent some time flipping through the pages, past sketches revealing the way a panther hunted, how they truly had the behavior of large house cats, sometimes. But other times – they were cold-blooded killers, eager to stalk and hunt and shred their prey with their sharp claws and canines.
She learned that sunlight was a cat’s best friend.
She doubted Six had ever seen much of it, had ever truly felt it warm her fur or her wings. She took note of that for later, and shut the book, yawning.
By now, Zey had to be asleep.
She stood, slowly stretching her arms, and had just begun her way down to the first floor, when she heard the library doors swing open.
Several figures entered.
The first two wore white robes, with golden bands on their arms.
The War Table.
