Impossible for her to lift, let alone draw.
Auryn stared down at it, keeping her hands clasped and her face serene.
Inwardly, horror dawned quickly.
Understanding.
Not fear. Not yet. But the cold promise of failure lodged behind her ribs.
Well, well. They have found a new way to humiliate their savior. What do you think, little ember? Will this break you? Or will you break trying to lift it?
“The Council expects Us to wield this?” Auryn asked, tone even. “And where are We aiming Our shot?” Her eyes snapped to Sevrion, her brow arching. “The Office of Sacred Affairs?”
A few Councilors snorted, Lamari Dross included.
“The bow of the Divine Judgment has been used for millennia,” said Torven Rax, his tone gloating. “If the Sokâr cannot draw it, it will speak volumes to the People.”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t let them see the crack forming in her calm.
“Volumes have already been spoken,” she countered. “In the number of sick flooding temples with no cure in sight. In the Shields, and the Council’s lack of support towards their research.” She glanced at Draevan. He gave her a nod.
Sevrion Hale raised a hand again.
Should I bite off that limb? Would it please you?
“The Sokâr speaks of the Shields. Perhaps the Council should be grateful that she bothers to grace the topic with her attention. We have had conversations at length about the need for the Sokâr to prove legitimacy. This is not the first time, is it?”
He looked around, and several Councilors—the same ones who had voted his motion forward—nodded with looks of sage wisdom.
“The Council’s proposition is fair and simple. We are giving the Sokâr a choice. Prove your divinity with the Rite of Judgment or attend the Vox Ring in the Altar Deep and perform Estâr with the Resh’Agar before sanctioned witnesses to ensure that the Shields are kept safe.”
Kailorien stood still, arms folded over his chest. He hadn’t spoken yet. His jaw was tight, and his gaze unreadable.
She waited for him to say something. To challenge them. To defend her.
But he said nothing.
He’s waiting.
He’s angry.
But he knows there’s nothing he can say that won’t make this worse.
Auryn took a steadying breath through her nose. “Alright, then. When is the Rite?”
Sevrion waved his hand. “We are not without mercy, Sokâr,” he drawled. “We understand it may take some time for you to prepare yourself, considering yourshortcomings.Therefore, the Rite will take place in one year during the Cycle of Fire. We will begin construction of the proper effigies needed for the public eye.”
Auryn tilted her head. “Effigies, Councilor? I see a striking lack of prioritization here. When the Master of Strategic Mana Flow is requesting funds for research and you vote against lightening your Gleamspurse, it seems odd that you would jump into construction of effigies merely to achieve public spectacle.”
Kailorien’s hand slowly lifted into the air.
“Supported. You will not be given any further funding for this, Sevrion. If you choose to build, it will be from your own plate. Not the Council’s, not the Sokâr’s, and definitely not my own.”
More hands flew up.
Though the vote for the Rite of Judgment slid by with barely a majority, the vote to leave the Council’s funds untouched passed with unanimous approval. Auryn tried not to smile when Torven Rax voted to keep his Gleamspurse safe.
And so it was that the Council made their new demand. The Sokâr would attend the Rite of Judgment in one year’s time. She would fire the ceremonial arrow through the Arms of the Destroyer—a stone effigy built in the Selen heights—and prove herself to the city.
