Auryn’s jaw clenched.
“You have risked your life to tell me this,” she said.
Liora shook her head. “Do not thank me. I don’t do this because I care for you.” Her voice cracked. “The truth is—I don’t favor you at all.”
Auryn tilted her head, but did not interrupt. The Companion's eyes shimmered with some mixture of anger and grief.
“I hate that you walk freely. That the Resh’Agar looks at you like…like you are his guiding star. He does not look at the Companions that way. Henever has.”
The room was very still. Liora hugged herself tighter.
“The Void should be impartial. His Quintessence…weall knowhe favors you, though Zeera likes to say the opposite. I am too young to know, but in my training I was…forced to observe the Estâr. So I could be prepared when my turn came. I saw what His Quintessence was like. Never once did he sleep beside his Eight. Never once did he touch us except for what duty demanded. But withyou…”
Her words faltered.
“With you, he sleeps. That is what the whispers say.”
Silence. Heavy. Raw.
Liora’s breath shook. “You have something the Eight will never have.Choice. And his regard. And that is why Zeera hates you. Why weallhate you. Because you remind us of what we were never allowed to be.”
The confession settled like ash over raw soil. Not cruel. Only true.
At last, Auryn spoke. “Liora…do not ever come to this chamber again. For your sake.”
The girl's lip trembled. She turned to the door. Her hand hovered on the handle, then stopped.
Without looking back, she whispered, “Be careful, Your Radiance. Zeera doesn’t just want you to fail. She wants you tobleed.”
The door closed.
Auryn stood unmoving. Then she looked to her ceremonial purse. With Lu’ma’s assistance, she began to pack. A small pouch of mana-sand. A focus stone. A coil of veil-thread. Not offerings, but defense.
If it was a magic trap, she would be ready.
If it was assassins, the Reskala would be there.
And Kailorien.
He had promised.
Her reflection glared back at her from the mirror.
I won’t fall for her games. Not today. Not if the Fire itself devours me.
46
The Falling Star
On the chosen day of Fire, beneath the eyes of the Destroyer and the People of Krystopolis, you—the one known as Sokâr—step out onto the Path with your head held high.
The People had been given a day's reprieve from duty to attend and witness this moment of divine spectacle. Crafters had set down their hammers. Weavers had stepped away from looms. All trade was halted, and even the rebuilding of the Han was set aside in favor of gathering one and all to witness your glorious communion with the Void.
From the moment your crystalline shoes touch the gold-inlaid stone, small invisible Auryn is left far behind.
The woman that loves Kailorien.
The woman yearning to be free.
