I shake my head again. I try to open my mouth, as if by physically doing so I could coerce the words into coming out in the same way I would when I still could speak with my physical voice. But none come.
“Tell me.” Agitation has crept into Ventris’s voice. “Or I shall begin to think that you might be defective.”
The words echo something lost within me. Something someone said to me once,I think?But I can’t recall. Still, they elicit a response in my body that my mind can’t explain.
Before I can muster a response, a warm and protective presence envelops me. I glance over my shoulder to find Ilryth there, as if my fear summoned him and he responded with my defense. He gives me a small but gentle smile. But he’s careful not to touch me, even if he positions his body partly before me.
Then he turns to Ventris with ferocity. “Is that any tone to take with the holy sacrifice?”
“It is merely one of concern,” Ventris says calmly. “I need assurance that our offering will not falter when the time comes. If she’s wavering now, then the anointing is not working and her ties to the world are yet too strong.”
My thoughts settle. Thanks to Ilryth’s presence, I can focus on the here and now.
“I will not falter,” I say with even more confidence than I showed Lucia. “I was merely taken aback at how stunning this room is…and how perfect that sculptor’s rendering of Lord Krokan is.”
Ventris looks behind him, clearly skeptical of my claims. Even though he’s right to be, he doesn’t have any room to argue or protest. It is not as though he could prove that what I have said is untrue. And I’m paying his lord a compliment.
“Itisa magnificent depiction of Lord Krokan,” he admits with a note of reluctance. “And it is good to know that it appears a faithful rendering, even to the offering, for if any were to have an innate sense of what our old god looks like, it would be you.”
I cannot refute him, and not just because I don’t want to. But because I am overcome with this innate sense that Idoactually know what Krokan looks like.
The urge to take Ilryth’s hand is nearly overwhelming. All I want is to feel his fingers against mine. To remind myself that I am still among the living, and safe. That I am not yet cast into that Abyss, surrendered to a god whose intentions I cannot fathom. I wish he could offer me some kind of reassurance. I wish I could leech off of his stability, but I know I cannot.
We have our roles to play…and that will be the hardest part of all of this.
So I stay poised and calm as Ventris begins to outline the gathering of the siren court and the final anointing that will happen before my soul is sent off to that old god once and for all.
CHAPTER38
When Ventris has finally finished droningon about this and that, Ilryth promptly says, “I shall escort her back.”
Those words bring me back to the present. The entire time, my thoughts were wandering to the roots above us—to the Lifetree. As if, by staring at them long enough, I could connect with Lady Lellia, rather than Lord Krokan, and perhaps catch a glimmer of understanding from her.
What is Lellia’s role in all of this? Maybe I have it wrong. Perhaps I’m thinking of her as the captive when she is actually the cause of the rot. Perhaps the goddess of life ended up resenting the chaos her children caused, resentment led to the decay of hate and that is what’s causing Lord Krokan’s rage.
There’s the edge of understanding in my mind that has been consuming my attentions all afternoon. I’ve been replaying the hymns of the old ones, trying to find some scrap of understanding that I hadn’t been afforded yet. As if hidden in their unintelligible, barely comprehensible words is the key to all of this.
“I do not mind escorting her,” Ventris says with a note of skepticism.
“Of course not, but as the Duke of Faith you no doubt have other important obligations.” Ilryth smiles. “Allow me to relieve some of your schedule. Besides, I can proceed with her next set of markings.”
“Very well.” Ventris swims away with an air of washing his hands of us. I suppose it’s better than suspicion.
Ilryth and I leave. He says nothing the entire way back to my room. The warriors on either side of the entrance to the tunnel that leads to my chambers do not follow behind us. They barely acknowledge us beyond a respectful nod.
The moment we’re alone in my room, Ilryth shifts, swimming in front of me, a hand dragging around my waist. His other hand moves to tangle his fingers with my hair. He claims my mouth—gentle but demanding.
A soft whimper escapes me. It reverberates between us. He responds with a low, resonant note that seems to rumble deep in my core. A sound that feels as if it originates within me, rather than from him.
Ilryth’s tongue slips into my mouth, finding mine eager and waiting. I do not breathe, and yet my chest burns as though he has stolen the heartbeat from between my ribs. When he finally breaks away I am dizzy and yearning.
He presses his forehead against mine. “I am sorry for not coming sooner.”
“It wasn’tthatlong,” I say, as if I hadn’t waited the night for him.
“It felt long to me.”
I laugh softly. “Me as well.”
