The storm inside me silenced; the calm should not have hurt as much as it did. The rest of the world fell away as I rose and approached her. “I will see you tomorrow. And every day after,” I told her. There was no room for argument in my tone. It was merely how things would be going forward.
Distance was killing me—killing us both, if the cracks in Sylaira’s mental barrier were any indication. I could no longer leave space like there had been since arriving at Thalvireth Palace. And I had to atone for everything I had done.
“Okay,” was all she said. Her tongue flicked out, wetting her lips. I tracked that movement, desperate to feel their plushness, to taste the peaches on her tongue.
But not tonight.
With agony in my veins, I forced myself to take a step back. To allow Lyriasthe to sneak the Seers into the hall. To watch them disappear into servant’s corridors.
To trust that they’d make it back, their absence undetected.
Maelsar lingered, toying with some balled up parchment. “So how far did she get?”
“Just outside of Sivy,” I replied, exhaustion tugging me back into my favorite plush chair. I kicked off my boots and propped my feet up on the table between us. “Goddess damn, Maelsar, what am I supposed to do? I can’t fucking breathe.” My hand trembled as I pressed it to my abdomen. “She’s slipping through my fingers. Every day she hates me more, and I’m choking on it.”
Maelsar said nothing, waiting for me to finish my tirade. “The walls are closing in around me. No matter what I do, I am defeated.”
He let the paper fall to the ground. “Then do what you’re best at, and you can’t lose.”
A scoff slipped out of me. “And, pray tell, what is that? Because right now, everything feels like a failure.”
“Command. First off, with yourself,” he stated like it was simple. “You’re unraveling, and it’s starting to show beyond the people who know you best.”
Fuck, if Maelsar was saying it, then it was probably true.
“Like I don’t already know that,” I grumbled. “My power won’t save me here. I will not take away Sylaira’s choice. I want–” My breath lodged in my throat before I could spill my deepest desire.
“What do you want?” Maelsar asked anyway, head tilting as he studied me.
“I want,” I paused again to gather myself, “I want her to choose me. Not because of the Goddess. Not because of the bond. Just me.”
“So how do you do that?” My best friend’s questioning ebbed some of the flow of emotion, forcing me to focus on logic. Forcing me into a space where I could think, where I could breathe, again.
“Protecting her. That was what got through to her before, I think,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. Each limb was laden, even as I sat in the stillness Maelsar offered.
“Good, then you have a starting point,” he said, shoving up from his seat. “I need to go wait for Lyriasthe. I’ll come back if there is any issue.”
I dropped my head into my hands as he departed. Then slid to my knees, prostrating myself on the ground.
There was no battlefield, no Command, no sword to wield. Only all the ways I’d failed my duty.
So for the first time in a very long time, I prayed.
“Radiant Mother, creator of all life, hear my prayer. Cleanse this world with your holy light. I walk in Your truth, illuminated by Your divine will. Your justice hasalways flowed through my hands. I’ve wielded Your light to kill. I’ve lied. I’ve sinned. And because of it, I am suffering.”
I took my twisted fingers and brought them to my forehead. “Sanctify me with Your grace. Burn away all falsehood. Leave only Your holy order behind.”
Then, I exhaled a long breath. “Goddess, show me a path to Sylaira or grant me the strength to walk away. You blessed us with this bond. You must have a reason for all of this. I swear to You, I will not survive in this inbetween much longer. Please, fucking please, guide my way.”
43
Ahush held the hall, each Seer hollowed out from the Divine Atrium’s demands. Another life stuttered out, this time one of the males. At least we’d only heard the cries through the walls, rather than having witnessed him perish in another violent manner. The “vision” I’d produced shortly after had been borne of threads I’d snatched by eavesdropping on Heraphia as she delivered hers to her attendant.
My best friend curled into a tight ball beside me, one hand clutching her pillow, and slumbered. I, despite the fatigue that threatened to seal my eyes shut, merely rested on my back, watching the sunlight flicker through the curtains.
It was almost time to go to the healing feather, and the Issaraeth had slunk into my mind to remind me that he would escort me that very morning. The invisible chain linking our fates coiled tighter, biting into my chest at his approach. I glanced at Heraphia, expression tense even in the land ofdreams. Careful not to wake her, I scooted away and slid to the floor.
When we’d heaved ourselves through Heraphia’s window in the middle of the night, I’d been utterly drained. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. Yet I couldn’t sleep, my thoughts consumed with the Issaraeth. Vaeron. My mate. And how he’d gently guided us back to Thalvireth rather than slapping bronze around our wrists and dragging.
