“Or more questions.”
“Come with me.” “You are a terrestrial. You may notice or understand something that is beyond my knowledge.”
Cyara led Arran through the temple and into the quarters kept by the priestess and her acolyte. There was a reading room lined with bookshelves, a small bedroom the two females shared, and a bathing room. She had spent countless hours in the reading room with Diana and Percival over the last several weeks. As she did each time, she bid the priestess and her acolyte welcome and offered a small bow.
Behind her, Arran did the same.
If the priestess or acolyte were surprised by the Brutal Prince’s sudden appearance, they did not show it. They merely bowed their own heads in response, as always, and continued at the work table where the priestess was providing instruction to her student in calm, steady tones. Mostly, was content to let them conduct their own research.
“It is time,” Cyara said again, this time directing her words to Diana.
Diana nodded, closing the book that had been spread in front of her. Cyara noted all the minute details—the bob of the woman’s chin, the slight sway of her hips, as if the ground was unsteady beneath her feet.
But her voice was firm as she pulled her lavender robes tighter around herself. “Not here.”
Percival was on his feet as well. “You do not have to do this.”
Diana’s voice remained even but firm as she circled the table. “We have spoken about this at length, brother.”
Cyara could not help the pride that rose in her chest at Diana’s tone. Strength. New and hard won, directed mostly toward her brother, but noteworthy all the same.
Percival’s bushy dark brows formed a single dark line across his forehead. Cyara steeled herself, ready to intervene, to offer silent or vociferous support as needed. But Arran beat her to it.
“Where?” the king asked. A question laced with command. To Diana, the query. To Percival, the promise of painful death if he did not shut his mouth.
Cyara swallowed her small smile. She did not quite want Percival dead—not anymore. She could understand his allegiance to his sister. But she had not forgotten or forgiven the dagger he had shoved into Lyrena’s back.
Diana chewed her lower lip. “Will we bring down the wrath of your Ancestors if we use the temple?”
Arran cut his gaze to Cyara—as if he had not just been praying himself. But it was the priestess who answered.
“I should think our Ancestors would be honored, as it is their world you seek to save,” she said softly from her worktable.
She made no bones about watching them. Her acolyte was less sure, eyes darting between the humans, the King, and the floor.
Arran thanked the priestess, and the acolyte actually began to quiver.
With permission obtained, it was the work of mere minutes to assemble what they needed. Diana quietly but firmly directed them to sit in a circle—Cyara, Arran, Percival, and herself. At their center, she placed a small pile of stones.
She turned to Cyara, seated at her right. “I shall need your fire.”
A gentle, steady nod. Every movement smooth and careful. She did not want to spook Diana now that they were on the precipice. “Tell me what to do.”
“After I say the spell, light the flame there, in the center.” Diana pointed to the pile of stones. “I will not be able to hear you. I have prepared my mind as best I can, and thought on what answers we seek. We will have to trust the spell to take my mind where it needs to go.”
They were all silent as she dragged in a breath and exhaled audibly.
Cyara’s sisterly core, the female she had been before her sisters were murdered before her eyes, wanted to put her arm around Diana. Assure her that she did not need to take this risk. But the Knight held her silence and hoped that all the work she had done these last weeks would be enough.
Diana’s next breath was steadier. “Percival, hold my hand.” He gave it to her, reluctantly. “He is my tether,” she explained.“If my mind becomes lost, he will pull me back to this realm, this place and time.”
“Hopefully.” Percival opened his mouth to say more, to argue more, but he was too late.
His sister was already chanting.
“Grant me wisdom, grant me sight, as I wander realms beyond my might. By ancient magics, this spell is cast. Guide me home, when the journey's past.”
A strange pall came over Diana’s face. She was still upright, still rigid. But her features softened into complete relaxation. Her eyes glazed, then darkened. Cyara swore she saw starlight flickering in those dark orbs.
