Son of Ereubus (18 page)

“Enough,” he murmured, rising from his bed to dress. When he’d finished, he made his way to the sanctuary.

It was empty. Black stones laid on the floors and walls. The cherry wood pews were inlaid with intricate white stone designs. The walls bore several large stained glass windows depicting scenes from when Ciara first entered Middengard. A likeness of Saint Erebus knelt in front of a large white dragon. When Ciara was shown in that form, her body was outlined in bright silver, her scales iridescent.

Garren began to whisper prayers as he approached the altar and knelt, feverishly reciting as many verses from the sacred epistles as he could. Suddenly, he jerked his head up. It had been a test. He looked around at the various depictions of Ciara, some human, some animal, and felt regret wash over him. He’d failed her. That had to be what was tormenting him.

He lay completely prostrate before the altar and was perfectly still, chanting a prayer of repentance. But while he’d started the prayer with conviction, he began to doubt his assumption more and more with every word that passed his lips. If she were indeed Ciara, it would certainly explain his affinity for her, but how could she have expected him to kill her? A picture briefly crossed his mind of his mouth touching hers and he recoiled. He squeezed his eyes tighter and tried to refocus himself. Trial or not, he’d failed both the Laionai and the Goddess by having mercy on an Adorian.

Did she not know she was Adorian?

It made no difference whether she’d been abandoned in the world of man or not, Garren argued with himself. Adorian blood still flowed through her veins.

I love but her and her alone
. The words weighed as stones in his head. He could still see Tadraem’s face as he’d said them.

“And what, my Lord, are you repentant of?”

Garren didn’t move, convinced that he’d fallen so deep into his mind as to audibly hear his thoughts, until Tadraem stepped close enough to nudge him with the toe of his boot.

“I have been watching you pray in this manner for over two hours now.”

“Has it been that long? I didn’t see you when I came in.”

Tadraem sat in one of the pews beside Garren. “I was in the back, you wouldn’t have noticed me. You needn’t suffer in silence, Garren, I have no need to compete for your position. I’ve waited many years to be High Priest. Whatever burden you are carrying is not yours to carry alone.”

Garren raised himself from the ground and sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the end of the opposite pew.

“I have committed a sin,” Garren said, watching Tadraem’s expression darken. He lowered his head and took a deep breath before continuing. “The girl you saw me pursue into the woods in Palingard wasn’t human. I had my sword in the air, no opposition, and yet I couldn’t strike her. I heard the Moriors coming and left her in hiding. I released her, Tadraem — an Adorian.”

Tadraem was still for a time. “An Adorian female in Middengard is unlikely. How do you know she was not human?”

Garren looked up from the floor. “I couldn’t take her soul. The only other possibility is that the Goddess was testing me.”

Tadraem shook his head. “She would not have done so. Your reputation alone speaks for itself. The girl could have had a spell of protection about her, though I’ve never met an Adorian with such privilege. If she was of noble blood, perhaps?”

Garren furrowed his brows in disbelief.

Tadraem continued. “There are legends of Adorians who have such powers. I cannot say for certain, but considering their secrecy, it wouldn’t be unimaginable. If a female had been allowed to enter Middengard, it would seem reasonable. I can’t imagine why she would have been there, though, particularly considering the Adorians were aware of our advances on Palingard. Anyway, the spell could not have been strong enough to make the girl invincible, but it would have been enough to affect your judgment.”

Garren wondered if it had been prudent to speak with Tadraem at all. Something felt wrong about the High Priest’s reaction, though he couldn’t say what. He decided it would be unwise to divulge that she’d continued to plague him.

“Did my father ever speak like this to you?” Garren knew as soon as he’d asked that he shouldn’t have.

“Why do you ask?”

“You spoke of my mother once, years ago. That you knew her well — ”

“Garren, I never knew your mother, you know this. What’s this occasion that you speak of?”

Garren suddenly felt like the floor had been pulled from beneath him and he placed his hands, palms down, at his sides. “I was but a boy, playing in the south woods, when you came to me. We walked to the falls and you spoke of my father. You said that I reminded you of him. I must’ve made the assumption then that you knew my mother as well.”

“That’s all that I said to you?”

“You asked me not to bother you with such questions,” Garren lied. “I was probably asking you things that would seem trite to an adult — it wasn’t important enough for you to remember. ”

Tadraem sat back and seemed to be satisfied with Garren’s answer, but he was sometimes difficult to read. “Don’t concern yourself anymore with this incident. The girl is of no importance. You’ve followed your orders from the Laionai and pleased Ciara. Nothing else is of any substance.

“I have prayed to the Goddess and it has been decided that Aiden will also be wed. Considering his wayward attitude as of late, it is more than charitable. This will at least give him something to occupy his time. I feel it should be you who chooses his intended.” Tadraem rose from his seat.

“Do you think I’m ready for what is ahead?”

Tadraem turned to face Garren. “My Lord, you have always been ready. You’re nothing like your father. I cannot imagine what would have possessed me to say such a thing to you. His weaknesses are your strengths. He had little faith and lost his life because of it. He questioned his beliefs and it led to his eventual ruin.”

“He lost his life on the battlefield, at the hands of an Adorian — you’ve told me so yourself, many times.”

Tadraem walked back toward the center aisle. “He did lose his life because of an Adorian. He died because of Michael’s father. There was little choice for us.”

Garren’s chest tightened as Tadraem spoke, and he almost didn’t ask — but he clung momentarily to the hope that it would not be so.

“You turned him over to the Moriors?” Garren clenched his teeth.

Tadraem stepped closer, but stopped as Garren held out his hand. “Garren, you would have done the same. Don’t let familial ties cloud your perception. He had the opportunity to do Ciara a great service but he chose instead to aide Gabriel in defeating some of our own men. It was treason in its most elementary form.”

“What is the difference between what my father did and what I have done?” Garren crossed his arms over his chest.

“There is much difference, Garren. You are on your face, begging repentance for something that wasn’t in your control, whereas your father intentionally led our forces into harm’s way. You are Aiden’s friend, yet it didn’t stop you from doing what needed to be done to continue in the faith. He stepped out of line and you corrected him as you had to. You and I are not so different.”

Garren felt ill. “Perhaps not,” he said, forcing a smile. “As always, I value your council and your friendship.”

Tadraem bowed his head. “Thank you, my Lord. I am blessed to be in your favor.” He turned on his heels and ducked out of the doorway, leaving Garren alone in the sanctuary.

Garren felt a chill run across his flesh as he considered his father’s death. Tadraem could have killed him more mercifully than the Moriors; he wondered if Tadraem’s condemnation had been warranted. If Tadraem had seen his father becoming more powerful than he, as his commander, he would’ve felt threatened. It would’ve been far too easy to make up lies. He couldn’t fathom his father having sympathies for Adoria.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

J
UST A
D
REAM

I

t was late by the time Jareth made it to his cottage, only to discover that Cryx wasn’t there. He smiled, happy to have an excuse to call on Ariana.

He knocked on her door, fully expecting to be met by her chambermaid, but Ariana herself answered. She looked surprised to see him.

“Time got away from me. I should’ve sent him home hours ago.”

Jareth laughed, leaning into the door frame. She’d changed from her dress into brushed-suede pants and a simple white cotton top. Her boots were made of leather, thick fur at the cuffs. They were fitted over her pants and extended almost to her knees.

“It’s fine. He must have been having a pleasant time.” Cryx scurried to the door at the sound of Jareth’s voice. Behind him walked a rather large dog. “Who might this be?”

“This is Koen. He’s been tormenting your little friend here. It’s been tremendous entertainment.” Ariana motioned for him to enter. “Why don’t you come in, have a seat.”

Jareth seriously considered it. “I would love to, more than anything in the world. But even as Michael’s best friend, I’m afraid he would feel there is no hour early enough in the day to warrant any male in your chambers other than himself.”

Ariana rolled her eyes. “Alright then, suit yourself.” She started to close the door, but Jareth obstructed its path with his foot.

“Perhaps you could join me for a walk? If you aren’t too tired.”

Her face lit up. “Let me get my cloak.” She disappeared into her chambers and he overheard her talking to someone. He assumed it was to let the chambermaid know where she would be. Moments later, she appeared with the same white fur-lined cloak that she’d been wearing earlier. Her blue eyes stood out against a backdrop of unruly red curls and made Jareth’s stomach flip-flop. He leaned over her shoulder and pulled the door shut behind them.

“Where are we going?” She played with the ties from her cloak, swinging them back and forth.

“Well, I assume your brother has already shown you the center courts and I heard a rumor that you’ve already found your way through the courtyards, so I thought I might show you something a little more unique to Adoria. Consider it a surprise.”

Ariana smirked. “What if I don’t like surprises?”

Jareth laughed. “You don’t exactly have much of a choice, unless of course you’ve been here before. Don’t worry. I won’t take you anywhere Michael wouldn’t.”

“Is it true that he wasn’t always this way?” she asked.

He tilted his head. “What way?”

“Was he always this serious? So burdened?”

“No. He was never this serious, not until Gabriel died. Genny grew ill shortly after and then with his newfound responsibility, he had no choice but to put his childish ways behind him. Don’t misunderstand me, he was always wise, and he’s always had a sense of prudence about him. There wasn’t any question as to who was to take Kael’s place. That’s who held Michael’s seat prior to — ”

“I’m not that dull, Jareth. What other place could you have been referring to?”

He bit back a grin and gave her a terse nod. “Are all the women in Middengard as sarcastic as you are?”

She appeared, falsely, to think this over before responding with, “Well, don’t tell anyone. It’d be positively dreadful for that to get around.”

“I’m sure it would be.” He smirked. “Dreadful indeed.”

As they reached the end of the hallway, he led her to a large wooden door, cool to the touch. He reached out and thrust his weight against it. The door slowly budged and a cold draft blew past them. Ariana pulled her cloak tighter around her.

“So this is it? I survive Ereubinian siege, wander in the Netherwoods, cold and hungry, recover from being shot by my own brother, and this is how I meet my end — by walking willingly into some dank dungeon under innocent pretenses.”

Jareth laughed louder than he expected to. Whether she had grown up around Michael or not, there was definitely a trace of his former wit in her. Suddenly it dawned on him what she’d actually said.

“Wait — did you say he shot you?” A wide grin spread across his face. Ariana looked horror-stricken. Perhaps she hadn’t intended to reveal it.

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Too late now! My lips are sealed, but you have to tell me the rest or I’ll herald it from the rooftops.” How could Michael, most arrogant of all archers, have possibly aimed so poorly?

“He was trying to shoot Koen. I suppose he thought him to be a wolf. It really wasn’t his fault. Please promise me you won’t mention it. He’s moody enough as it is.”

This was royal, such a shame that he had to relish in it alone. It would be much more enjoyable in Michael’s presence. As Michael was teaching Jareth how to wield a bow, he’d put up with a tremendous amount of criticism. Among many of Michael’s more reasonable sayings was, “Aim so you may never be unsure of your intended target. Only the weak miss their objective.”

“I’ll do my very best to never utter even a hint of your indiscretion.”

She shot him a wayward look. “You sound so convincing.”

Jareth motioned for her to enter before him, a gesture that she didn’t seem to care for.

“If you’re planning on locking me in there, you’ll have to be more creative than that.”

“If it were my plan to hoard you away for malevolent purposes, you’d have little choice. I simply don’t want to obstruct your view by entering before you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Little choice? I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I’m smarter than I … my view?”

“There’s a rail you’ll need to hold onto.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and eased her closer to the doorway. She grabbed the banister, and after a moment’s hesitation, they both descended into the darkness.

Gradually, closer to the bottom of the stairs, a light began to swell in the room. He reached a hand over her shoulder, pointing toward the corners of the cavern. “It comes from the rocks.”

She ducked her head as they came to the bottom and crossed under a low overhang. Coming out onto the other side, she gasped. Lights of all colors — pinks, blues, yellows, lavenders, greens, every color imaginable — filled the once-dark cave, growing dim the farther they walked, new ones sparking to life ahead.