She remembered standing in the queen’s sitting room afterward, her hands drenched in blood, her eyes unable to meet Gianna’s. She had expected anger. Disappointment. Something other than the gentle understanding she received when Gianna tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet her gaze, and smiled sadly.
‘You remind me of her, you know,’ her queen had remarked. ‘Your mother. You look just like her, of course. But you have her spirit as well. Warm. Kind. Proud. I often felt Eliza should have been born an Incend.’
Aya had stood there speechless for a long moment. Her mother had indeed been warm. And kind.
She hadn’t had the strength to correct Gianna on their likeness.
‘You knew her?’ she finally breathed instead.
Gianna had nodded. ‘I met her on a visit with my father to the farmlands. And again in a few of the local tradegatherings I was allowed to attend at that age. She was exceptional. And always spoke so highly of her young daughter. Of your wit, your intelligence, your pride. I was thrilled to see you not just rise in the Dyminara training but thrive. She would be proud, Aya. As am I, to have you defend my kingdom.’
It was forgiveness, Aya supposed, for the botched assignment. And a confirmation of sorts, too. That Aya had chosen her path correctly; that this was what she was made to be.
It made failure taste all the more bitter.
Tyr nudged Aya’s hip with his head, drawing her attention back to him.
‘You just want to go lounge with Akeeta,’ she grumbled.
He’d taken an immediate liking to Will’s bonded, and despite her many efforts, Tyr would not be dissuaded. Legend said that the gods created the sacred wolves to protect Tala, the Original Kingdom, alongside the Visya. They were to be their equals, their sacred kin. And to build that kinship, the gods made the Athatis immune to Visya affinity, for only through true vulnerability could this bond be made.
Whether it was truly the gods’ will for the wolves to be immune, or they simply had magic of their own to protect them, Aya didn’t know. What shedidknow was it made dealing with a stubborn wolf like Tyr damn near impossible at times.
Every member of the Dyminara took a bonded. No one had wanted the gray runt of the litter when it came time for Aya’s class to choose. But she’d seen what the others hadn’t: what Tyr lacked in size, he made up for in spirit.
Her bonded shot her a knowing look as Aya gave her arm a swing and nearly doubled over from the pain. She certainly wasn’t training any longer.
She’d seen far worse injuries. In fact, she probably could set her shoulder herself; she’d done it before. But with hermuscles still aching from her last assignment, her body wasn’t going to tolerate a botched healing. Better to let one of the Anima take care of it.
Tyr kept a slow pace as he led her down the mountain, and Aya’s legs were trembling by the time the Athatis compound finally came into view. The wolves had over half the mountain to themselves, as well as the sprawling lands that led to the Pelion Gap. Their haven sat far from the Quarter, and further still from the city itself. A wall forged by the Zeluus separated this part of the mountain from the lower region. The sacred wolves were dangerous to those untrained to handle them. One wrong interaction could turn deadly, especially if an Athatis was in a hunt.
It helped that the wolves despised the cobblestone streets, the brine of the river, and the chaos of the docks. Tyr especially. But Aya’s bonded hated most things besides fresh air, raw meat, and her.
She preferred his company to most people, too.
Her skin prickled as she approached the large wooden barn. The power of the gods was strongest here.
While the gods created the veil that separated the mortal realm and the Beyond from their own power – a measure that kept them from interfering in mortal affairs and the mortals from chasing heavenly life too early – Aya swore she could still feel their presence at times.
Like in the old dockside temple when the light reflecting off the river made the stained-glass windows sparkle. Or in the subtle nudges she sometimes felt from Saudra whenever she used her affinity. Or when she walked through the Athatis compound or looked into Tyr’s deep brown eyes.
The gods might have left the mortal realm after the War, but Aya liked to believe they weren’t gone – not truly.
7
Will had lost track of how long he’d been sitting in the barn, his fingers dragging rhythmically through Akeeta’s white fur.
Gianna had cornered him after the meeting. She always preferred a private, detailed report of his questionings.
‘You look tired,’ she’d observed when he’d finished, laying a hand on his arm. ‘Is there something else on your mind?’
He’d stared at that hand, let it rest there for a breath before he gently pulled away from her. ‘It was a long night.’
He had hoped it would serve as an explanation and an excuse. He was too exhausted to walk that precious line today, to hold her interest without crossing too far into territory that would surely risk his place as her Second should he misstep. He couldn’t afford such errors.
Such a careful game he had to play. Pushing just enough, but not too much. Always cautious, always watching, alwayswaiting.
Will leaned his head back against the stable wall. The echoes of pain lasted longer this time; perhaps because the tradesmen kept their truth buried so deep. Or perhaps he simply had to face a bitter truth: the issue with his shield was getting worse.
