Everywhere Seth turned, he felt that alien gaze on him. He stood beside the throne, where at the very least, he did not have to make eye contact.
Jacen and Ysira had offered him the position of Knight Commander, but Seth had gaped at them until he pulled himself together enough to refuse. He told them to give the post to Saraida, who was a far better fit for it anyway, and asked to be Captain of Neri’s personal guard. This was what he had set out todo from the beginning: protect Neri. This—if only this—he knew how to do.
Absently, Seth ran his new right hand over his armor, as though he might feel the grooves of that triangular symbol etched onto his breastplate. But the metal fingers, similar to Ogden’s mechanical limbs, had no sensation. They didn’t feel like part of him. He could barely get them to grip a sword.
Seth shifted his weight back and forth, adjusting the red cape around his shoulders. Every creak of his armor carried in the silent chamber, empty but for him and Neri.
“You’re nervous,” the new High Lord said, without looking at Seth.
Seth cleared his throat. “It’s been a difficult few cycles.” “It won’t get easier.”
“It might,” Seth argued, “now that Zivora has settled somewhat.” “We’ll have to look beyond the Scar.” Neri fell silent, still as the rock of the canyon. “Beyond the plagued lands, the northern kingdoms have been at war since before the Firstborn conquest. They won’t set aside their differences because we ask them to, and we’ll likely have to subdue them by force. It won’t be difficult. They’re weak, economically and militarily. Under the Firstborn, only the Dominion of the Black Sun was allowed to thrive.”
Seth could not bring himself to respond. Neri hadn’t read that in any of the books Seth had given him.
Neri angled his shoulders sideways. In that young face, just freshly twelve years old, Seth was beginning to glimpse the man Neri might one day be. He had Ysira’s sharp nose and full mouth, Ged’s strong chin and black hair. He’d never be free of either of his parents—not least, of course, because of those eyes. The red-in-black of an archdemon, skewering Seth in place like an insect on a board.
“This world must stand united,” Neri said. “Better to do so under one banner, in the face of what’s coming.”
“More war,” Seth said heavily. Not really a question.
“I have witnessed the conquest, and the Cataclysm that followed, through the eyes of my predecessors, with the help of our prophet.” Neri paused, noticing Seth’s discomfort at the way he referred to Jacen. “You love him. But you hate what he’s done.”
Thatdid not sound remotely like something Neri would have said, and Seth couldn’t conceal how much it rattled him. It was also true. Since Zal Fel, he’d shared a bed with both Jacen and Ysira. They gave each other comfort and received it, holding on to one another amidst the tide they had unleashed. But they didn’ttalk.Not really.
“Jacen killed thousands,” said Neri. “So have we. Eleven thousand, nine hundred and thirty-two souls were on that station. Six hundred and twelve of our own people. But tens of thousands perished in Zivora at the enemy’s hands, and many more would have followed if we had not acted as we did. We took their lives because it was necessary.”
We.He’d been referring to himself in the plural lately, and each time, it made Seth shiver.
Neri asked, “Would you deny our world’s freedom, exchange our victory to save them?”
No. Of course Seth wouldn’t. He knew that much for certain—even if better people might have made far better saviors. He shifted his stance again, uncomfortable with the dissonance.
Talking to Neri had gotten so blasted unnerving. The boy had always been insightful, but all this pragmatism and detachment, wisdom and world-weariness . . . All of this could never have naturally come about in a single person. There was something deeply unnatural about it, such that Seth never knew how to approach a given conversation.
“Our prophet understands this. My mother, too. They can help you come to terms.” Neri watched him, inscrutable. “You’ve always struggled with matters of faith. But the world will not be reborn without it.”
Unsure whether he was being criticized, Seth insisted, “I don’t begrudge people their faith.”
Jacen had been telling a story Seth supposed was meant to be inspiring, about a directionless man who had found freedom from his mortal failings as an instrument of the divine. The continuity, he’d told Seth, was necessary. The Church had borrowed heavily from Zal theology. It had taken rituals, scriptures, its very priests from the people of the Scar, and thus, it proved less useful dismantled than repurposed.Jacen spoke to the old gods’ faithful with compassion, encouraging them to search for the familiar in a newborn world. He promised no more lies, no more Harvests, andanswersto people who flocked to him like they were dying of thirst and his word was a freshwater spring. Some still cursed his name. But the converts had taken to calling himHoly Father.
“The Church of the Black Sun is the legacy of the Scar,” Neri said. “Almost as much as we are. We cannot rewrite its history, but we can decide its future.”
Something moved in the shadows behind the throne. A blessed distraction, allowing Seth to avert his gaze. He reached for his sword, readying to face an intruder—and a cat leapt out at him. It was large and black, with a crumpled left ear, and purred as it wound between Seth’s legs.
To have survived Ged’s coup, the destruction of the Cathedral and all the violence that followed, then to have somehow made its way back to the palace unscathed . . . this cat might’ve been the luckiest creature on all Celes Lor.
A laugh, half-relieved, half-hysterical, escaped Seth. “Gods. Look who it?—”
The laugh died in his throat. Neri had stood from the throne, and for a fraction of a second, he looked like himself. He reached eagerly toward his old friend, the beloved pet that had spent many a night curled up at his side.
The cat hissed at Neri and darted back into the shadows.
Neri sat back down. Seth hadn’t the faintest idea what to say to him, couldn’t even tell for certain whether he was upset.
“They’re all afraid of me,” Neri said quietly. “Even you.”
“Neri—” Guilt gnawed at Seth because he had struggled to speak to his nephew since that day at Zal Fel. Something profound had shifted between them and would never again be the same. Nothing would.
