Silence. The kind thatburned.
“But it hasn’t.” He tilts my chin, urging me to look at him. “You keep breaking. Even without using that magic. And I don’t know what else to do.”
He drags a hand through his hair, and his pain stings across the Bond. I rest my cheek against his armor—cool and smooth and steady against the heat in my bones.
“I’ll be alright.”
“You say that every time, starlight. But that isn’t enough answer. Not for me.” His gaze turns inward, haunted. “Something is missing. Something I haven’t thought of. But I’ll find it… I’ll find it and make you well again.”
“This isn’t something you need to fix, Kailorien. Please—” I take his hand and press it to my chest. “Please don’t carry this burden too.”
His mouth thins into a hard line. “You aren’t a burden.”
I don’t know how to answer such a lie. In this moment, all I can see is the red in his eyes during Estâr. The way Vargrún on his neck had glowed crimson and violent against his will. The weight of duty that had chained him for far too long.
And I cannot—will not—add to it.
16
Tainted Sunlight
I will leave a piece of her for you.
Just a piece.
For my pitiable prison.
At the fringes of the Penance Stair, outside the boundaries of the Jade Lattices, I stand beside my Sokâr in preparation for the Turning of the Mirrors. From these marble stairs, we will descend together and lead a Procession through the city, allowing the People to witness their Resh'Agar and his Sovereign Star attend to the Mirror Shafts in celebration of the Cycle of Growth.
To oversee the High Priests and mages as they turn the mirror gears.
To let sunlight back into the city after Cycles of oppressive darkness.
Ilook past this organized chaos, focusing on the Reskala stationed at the edges of the golden path. Their glowing white eyes inspect the surroundings, searching for threat, for anything out of place. For Solutus. My Second, Thrassus, stands beside me, following the direction of my gaze.
‘The heretics would not dare attack during the Turning,’he signs.
But he is wrong. This is the perfect stage for their rebellion. The Turning only happens once a year, what better spectacle than to foil the ceremony that will return sunlight to a city trapped in frost and silence?
“Bring another company of Elites,” I instruct Thrassus. “I want two following at pace at every break in the Procession. One mage at the center of each line, ready to mitigate a blast.”
You are right to prepare,Auryn’s gentle voice ghosts through the Bond.The Solutus do not attack blindly, but always with purpose. Always to undermine the Doctrine in the eyes of the People.
Not this day,I swear to her.Stay close to me, starlight.
She takes a step towards me, curling her small hand into Morvane’s gap at the crease of my elbow. My runes flare in response to her touch, the Bond spiraling between us.
Worry not, my Resh’Agar. I will let no harm come to you.
A smile tugs at my mouth, but I do not indulge it. She is trying to distract me with her sweet mischief, but her hand is too warm.
You are worse today.
You fuss too much, my love. I am alright.
Her lie is playful, but a lie nonetheless. She steadies her breathing before sending the thought. Slight tremors move through her fingers where they rest upon my arm. To anyone else the movement might appear insignificant, but her discomfort is a shout through our Bond.
Her fever radiates between us in slow pulses of heat, bleeding through my ribs and into my lungs. Morvane registers the change as well; the armor along my arm grows warmer beneath her fingers, responding to the rising temperature of her body.
