“When you found the relics, you were able to touch them, were you not?” Luwalhati asks. “The relics recognized your bloodline.”
I remember how I couldn’t touch the other bottles, but how the one I pocketed seemed to call to me. I couldn’t hear the spirit, but I was drawn to it nonetheless.
“Gineth, I understand you have already communicated with your spirit.”
Gin nods.
“Mine is silent,” I tell her.
“As you are not ready to listen yet, but you will be,” says Luwalhati. “Ophir needs you both to pass the bonding trials so you may have a chance to restore Ophir to its lost glory.”
Gin looks apprehensive. “What are the trials?”
“You must suffer a trial in order to bond with your ancestor spirit and tap into the strength of our gods. These are the traditions of our people. If you pass the test, your newfound powers will allow you to recover the remaining relics as well as serve a direct line to the gods. But the trials are quite dangerous, and while attempting to bond with a spirit can lead to great strength, it can also claim your life force instead of enhancing it. One must have a clear conscience to pass the test. Few survive it.”
I frown. I’ve led a hard life and have made many hard decisions. I’m done doing things I’ll regret. If, as Luwalhati said, one must have a clear conscience, I’m disqualified before I can even begin. I think of all the things I’ve done, the friends I’ve failed. Angel. Vergel.
Perhaps sensing my hesitation, Luwalhati puts a hand on my arm. “If you are not ready, perhaps this is not the time. We have waited five hundred years, we can wait as long as we need.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXGIN
Luwalhati gives us some time to decide if we’re ready to face the trials. We take the remainder of the day to explore the market district of the strange city while we consider our options. Though, in my opinion, the options are few. “What choice do we have?” I whisper to Eban as we peruse the wares at one of the city’s delectable bakeries. We haven’t discussed the trials since we left Luwalhati behind, but I don’t have to preface the question. It’s hanging over us. He knows exactly what I’m referring to.
“You heard her. It’s a huge risk,” he replies, his tone curt. He doesn’t meet my eyes, keeping his gaze focused steadily on the endless spread of breads and pastries and towering cakes.
His reluctance confuses me. When has that ever stopped him before? “Doing nothing is an even bigger risk,” I insist. “Can you truly tell me you’re fine with returning to the Sleeve? Continuing on with the way things are? Or worse?” I for one would rather take my chances with death than go back to my old life, if it can even be called that. Nothing about it was sustainable. Or worth trying.
He doesn’t respond, only frowns slightly. “I’d like to try one of these, please,” he tells the man behind the counter, pointing to one of the fluffy creations, piled high with some kind of frosting or meringue.
“I’d like one as well,” I add. I know he’s avoiding my questions, but in Eban’s defense, the treatsaredistracting. I haven’t seen anything quite like them since I left House Eternal, and the sight of them makes my mouth water. And for all his bravado, in my heart I know Eban is just scared of facing the trials and trying to process everything that’s happened to us in such a short time. I am, too—Luwalhati’s warning echoes repeatedly in my mind.The trials are quite dangerous.… One must have a clear conscience to pass the test. Few survive it.
The man hands us the pastries. It’s strange to get such things without payment, but we’re guests of Luwalhati, and everyone in the city seems to know who we are, or at least, that we are strangers. Or rather, guests from another realm. On our way out of the shop, we get a lot of stares, largely from curious children with their mouths agape, and many others who try to watch us surreptitiously, following us out of the corner of their eyes.
Neither of us comments on it. Eban bites into the treat. “You have to try this,” he says, mouth full, a smear of white frosting on his nose. I laugh and reach out to wipe it off. His cheeks flush.
I pretend not to notice his reaction to my touch and try mine. Whatever I expected, it’s better. Buttery and sweet and perfectly flaky. “Wow,” I manage.
Eban looks at me and returns the favor, brushing his finger gently against the side of my lip. “You had a little something there,” he says.
It’s my turn to blush. “Thanks.” I can’t look directly at him.
We walk in silence for a bit, passing by a series of dreamy shops, some featuring gowns similar to the one I’m wearing, others with elaborate accessories on display, little flickers of light bouncing around inside. When we get closer, I notice they’re not artificial lights at all, but some kind of small creature. The buildings are all made of the same shimmering, otherworldly material, with bay windows that look like they’re made of iridescent crystal rather than standard glass, and twirling columns flanking each side. Residents of the city glide in and out of them. What freedom they have, to come and go, secure in the knowledge they have everything they need.
It hits me, again, that these are not some other people, but my people. Living the way we all once did, long ago. And that we can again, so long as Eban and I succeed.
We come to an elaborate fountain in the heart of the city, similar to the one we saw earlier, except this one features huge water dragons made of a sparkly marble. Even the water is different here, clearer, with a crisp fresh scent. We take a seat on the edge to finish the pastries. I can’t help but touch the water. There’s a faint effervescence, almost a fizz, not unpleasant, against my finger.
“We need to talk about this,” I say finally.
Eban nods.
“I know Luwalhati said it’s dangerous. But—”
“It’s not that.” Eban cuts me off. “It’s…” He trails off.
I wait for him to finish, afraid that if I interject or offer my own opinion, he’ll retract back into himself again.
“My conscience isn’t clear,” he finally spits out.
