Auryn gaze sharpened. "What?"
"Miss. Fail the Rite."
"And what then?" She frowned, trying to sit up straighter. He stopped her, kept her still. "Kailorien, what are you saying?"
"I am saying that if you do not wish to do the Rite, then don't go."
This time she did not allow his hands to stop her. She sat up, swayed, but held. "Imust."
"Why must you? You do not need to be Sokâr to stay by my side. I will find a way, Auryn'reh. I do not say it lightly. Many times, I have considered it."
She rested her hands on his shoulders. Smoothed one up and touched his cheek. "And what then? Will I be an ornament in the Resh'Agar's wing? One of those trinkets on yourshelf?"
He kept his expression and his voice steady, neutral. "You would want for nothing. I will cease construction on the Sokâr's wing and build you a study in my wing instead. You could spend your days reading rare tomes and studying magic, just as you do now—but without the burdens of the Holy Blood. Without interruptions. Without poisoned glares following your every step." He nodded in promise. "No one will see you unless you wish it. No one will speak to you unless you bid it so."
Her eyes grew wide. Luminous. For several moments, they lived in the dream his words wove around them. Lingered there together in the Bond.
Her gaze misted.
She shook her head. Kissed Kenaz on his forehead.
"And who will fight to endEstâr? Who will speak for those dying in the temples?" She stroked his hair. "Who will investigate the Shields…and free you from them?"
"I will," he said. No hesitation. No doubt.
The moisture in her eyes welled until a tear slipped down her cheek. "You cannot be everything, Kailorien. The Void must be impartial…"
She paused, as though remembering something. Her gaze hardened to stone, and when she spoke again, her voice no longer wavered.
"Thatis why I must attend the Rite. Why I must succeed. Because youneedme. Not as a mouse hiding in your wing, but as your sacred consort. I am not the Void, and I hold no obligation to neutrality. I speak for those who must be heard. I fight for those who have no blade to wield."
"Then you will rise, my love," he said, smiling.
"I will," she nodded. "Four days hence, I will fire the arrow and seal my place at your side. As Sokâr. As myself."
50
The Consort and Her Witness
Four days passed since the Sokâr had fallen into darkness. The city was frozen in fear, holding its breath, praying for her to return. Rumors spread through the Commons like wildfire, and those in the Cataclyss deep underground murmured of how the Resh’Agar had turned the world to flame to find her.
The Arm of the Void had vanished from the public eye. None had seen him since the Path of Fire. The Priests and Attendants continued to prepare for the Divine Judgment as though nothing had transpired. Reskala continued to patrol the streets, ever vigilant. The Council hadn’t made any speeches.
Even the Sovereign Flame was silent and still.
And then, on the fourth day, the Sovereign Horn summoned all to the Selen District. The People were reluctant—afraid. Some said the Sokâr had perished. Others swore they’d seen the Resh’Agar pull her broken, bloodied form from the pit.
She had bled silver, they said. Like liquid starlight.
The Void had tried to take her back into its arms.
Whatever the account, none expected to see her stand for the Divine Judgment.
None expected her to appear at the calling of the Horn.
Until shedid.
From the dark towering archway of the glimmering Jade Lattices, she stepped forth like myth given form. She was meant to wear the Sokâr's ceremonial white—meant to symbolize submission, purity, divinity.
