“Demi’s aunt had a similar experience,” Gem explains to the Sols. “Saw some glowing birds that guided her back to Caligo.”
Kalden leans back in his chair. “On the first anniversary after my mother’s near death, after she had time to acquaint herself with her abilities, she wanted to help the new recruits somehow without having to explain that she wasn’t the same as the monsters they were meant to hunt. So, she sent out winged solar constructs to act as her second set of eyes.”
“The birds weren’t real?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around how that’s even possible.
“No, they’re real,” Kalden corrects. “As real as the blast of power you cast to level the Pyres earlier. But instead of a warm-blooded animal, her constructs are an amalgamation of energy manipulated into the shape of her choosing.”
Gem lets out a breath. “Shadows’ mercy, that sounds . . .”
“Difficult,” Kalden supplies.
Niles snatches the last bunch of grapes from the center of the table while clarifying, “Especially when the constructs are as detailed as Irene’s. And the distance she’s able to push them is no easy feat. Would push a lesser Sol to burnout. It’s a marvel she keeps it up year after year.”
Kalden shrugs. “It’s worth it for her. She’s not always able to locate the Huntresses in time, but when she does, that’s one less life stolen by Caligo’s lies.”
“Did she send any this year?”
Kalden’s gaze turns downcast, and Niles clears his throat, answering on his friend’s behalf, “No. Ever since Aurick, she’s been . . . more cautious with her channeling.”
“Right,” I say, kicking myself mentally for steering us back into sensitive territory. “Well, thank you for putting this meal together—though I’m not convinced you didn’t ‘construct’ all this food into existence.”
Niles shakes his head. “Eating a construct would be highly inadvisable, unless you enjoy the flavor profile of acrid radiation and having your taste buds melted.”
Tongue souring, I scrunch my nose.
Kalden graces us with an almost-smile. “I can assure you that no solar constructs were used in the preparation of this meal, but I’ll pass along the compliments to the culinary staff.”
Niles lifts his glass in a toast before downing the rest of its deep berry liquid.
“They outdid themselves. Pulled out all the stops for the return of the High—you.” He winces. “Sorry.”
Kalden waves off the apology. “It’s time I tell them the rest.”
My eyes skate over the lavish dishware and intricate floral arrangements. Even the food itself tasted like luxury. The whole private dining setup is brimming with an extravagance that I should’ve questioned sooner.
“You’re the High Sol, aren’t you?” I say, remembering the term I’d heard floating around during our arrival.
Both Kalden and Niles turn their widened eyes to me.
“Where did you hear that?” Kalden asks, his gaze flicking to his friend with suspicion.
Niles holds up his palms. “Wasn’t me.”
“It really wasn’t,” I confirm, then explain, “When you were leading us through the village earlier, I heard people gossiping about the High Sol and what he planned to do about the black cloud.”
“And you presumed that was me?”
“Not initially. But between you having this grand feast organized for us on very short notice, and Niles almost slipping up, it’s not a far reach.”
Gem nods. “It makes sense. You’re a natural leader, albeit a reluctant one.”
Kalden arches a brow, and I point out, “You swooped in with our training sessions when that guard made it clear he wasn’t concerned about preparing us for the Hunt.”
Gem chimes back in to add, “And once we were released, you took charge and kept calm, even when those Pyre things attacked us.”
Kalden lifts his chin, irises gleaming as he glances between us. “I guess I haven’t been as covert as I thought.”
“So, what does it mean to be the High Sol?” Gem asks. “Are you the elected leader of this village, or were you born into it?”
