“Temple Masters!”
They froze. Linn’s voice reverberated around the hall, startling even herself. Swallowing, she continued: “The Cyrilian spies you encountered today—those were sent by the current Empress of Cyrilia, Morganya, who took over in a coup. Since then, she has been killing innocent people, and working to change the order of the world. I have seen her regime with my own eyes; I know that she will not bring good to this world.” Linn drew a breath. “I fought her forces in Bregon, to protect the siphons made from the Reins of the Sea, designed to take the powers of wielders.”
“And you lost,” said the Imperial Messenger. “The Cyrilian Empress’s allies are to take the Reins of the Sea. Our Diviner Master warned us herself. Oh, no need to look so surprised. Kemeira has long refined its arts of Divination. Our Diviner Masters catch glimpses of Time, past and future; our emperor relies on this to make decisions.” The Imperial Messenger spoke flatly. “If Kemeira were to act at every possible threat, at every potential war, we would be fighting into eternity. Our people would suffer, and, unlike the Cyrilian Empire, we will not impose our way of life upon other kingdoms in this world. At every turn, we have made the conscious choice to watch and to protect only our own.” He spread his arms. “Besides, such decisions are to be made by the Emperor after he receives full counsel. We are not to simplysail off on the word of a”—he looked at her from head to toe—“little girl.”
Linn’s voice sounded very small as she spoke. “But if we do not act immediately…Cyrilia will fall.”
“The Emperor will determine that,” the Imperial Messenger replied coldly. “Our principle is action, and counteraction. We will not defy the laws our gods have laid.”
Linn looked between the Imperial Messengers and the Temple Masters. Harmony and balance were core Kemeiran values. Without action, there could not be counteraction. To march into war against Morganya meant provoking an attack, meant launching a counteraction without action.
And yet…Linn thought of the vow she had sworn to herself. That no other person—Affinite or non-Affinite—in this world would go through what she had gone through. What Kaïs had gone through.
What her brother,Enn,had gone through.
The thought was the spark that kindled a trail of fire inside her, leading to a memory: she and Kaïs, freeing those trafficked Affinites from the Blue Fort’s dungeons in Bregon. She recalled how powerful she’d felt, daggers in hand and feet rooted to the earth, how she’d understood then that she, the smallest wisp of life in this grand universe, could make a difference with her own two hands and feet and knives.
And that trail of fire leapt into a roaring flame.
“You arewrong.” The words spilled from her mouth before shecould even stop herself to think of the consequences. Shock rippled through the congregation, but she felt Ruu’ma’s eyes keenly watching her. Linn lifted her chin, looking directly at the Imperial Messenger. “Cyrilia has acted against Kemeira—hasbeenacting against us—foryears.They have been coming to our land and committing crimes against our people in secret.” She raked her gaze over the Masters and Messengers, sparing none of the anger that finally welled out like molten lava. “Where was your counteraction when the Cyrilian traffickers came and took my brother from me? Where was your counteraction all those long years I toiled in a foreign land, praying to our gods for someone,anyone,to help me?” Tears stung her eyes, but she was too angry, and she could not stop. “It is not the gods who live in this world; it isus, humans.And the good thing about humans is that we are mortal, that we can hurt and bleed and bear scars. That we can always make the choice to continue to live, and continue to fight for good. I am but one human girl, but I willneverstop fighting so long as I am alive.”
The most powerful people of her homeland were silent, their faces shuttered as they watched her outburst. Only their eyes flickered, midnight black like her own.
Linn brushed a hand over her face. She knew exactly what they thought. Knew her own people, in all their shades of good and bad, their rigid set of values and morals that they held so tightly.
Knew it all, because it had shaped half her heart, half her life.
It felt like betrayal for her to stand. To look to Kaïs and say, in near-perfect Cyrilic, “We go. We have overstayed our welcome.”
Linn bent at her waist in a swift, deep bow. “Esteemed Temple Masters, Imperial Messengers,” she said curtly, and, stiff-shouldered and straight-backed, she turned and marched from the revered Temple of the Skies.
Through the destroyed courtyard, past the wide, familiar roads of Bei’kin. With every step, the thread at her heart tugged,whispering to her that this was betrayal. Her every nerve and instinct fought against her, pushing her to return, to prostrate herself at her Temple Masters’ feet, and to beg them to take her back.
Linn continued forward. She had made a choice, and that choice was to keep fighting.
To ensure that no other Affinite went through what she had.
—
That night, Linn and Kaïs waited by the docks of Bei’kin’s Port of White Clouds for passage out. They’d found a trade ship scheduled to leave that would take them as far as Bregon, from where they would need to seek passage to Cyrilia. It was a clear night, the stars bright overhead, the moon pouring down all her silver light.
Linn had never thought that she would choose to turn her back on these stars again.
Kaïs stood by her side, his face tilted to the wind as he kept his eyes trained on the sea, scanning for their ship. The breeze tossed his hair as he turned to look at her, those eyes speaking the words in the silence between them. “You are sad,” he observed.
“I never thought I would leave this land again.” The words hurt for her to say. “I have dreamt of returning here every night for the past ten years.” She shut her eyes, lest the tears threaten to spill.
“Ko Linnet.”
She jolted from her maelstrom of thoughts as footsteps sounded in the empty quay behind her. Kaïs spun, hands flying to his swords—but Linn’s winds told her otherwise.
Ruu’ma strode toward them, robes billowing, hair impossibly white like a fall of snow in the night. Only when she drew closerdid Linn make out the fine lines around her eyes, the shadow of exhaustion on her face. The Diviner Master drew to a stop several steps away.
Then she inclined her head and stooped into a bow.
Shock coursed through Linn’s veins. It was unheard of, in Kemeira, for an elder—a Temple Master of their land, no less—to bow to someone junior to them. “Shi’sen, what—”
“On behalf of the Temple Masters, I want to thank you for what you have done for us today, Ko Linnet,” the Diviner Master said. “You have given us much to consider in preparation for our meeting with the Emperor.”
