Son of Ereubus (33 page)

She chose a cream-colored gown, with a midnight blue velvet cloak to change into. The dress had white crystals sewn into the bodice, around the hem at the bottom, and on the sleeves. It would serve just fine for how she intended to greet Garren.

Once she was outside of his cell, she gestured for the guard to open the door. He carefully pulled a single silver key from his pocket and slipped it into the lock.

As the heavy wooden door opened, Ariana could see Garren curled into a ball on top of the small bed that was in the far corner. He hadn’t touched the food that had been brought to him, but she could see that he’d had his wounds tended to. There were several cuts on his face, and a bandage was wrapped around his lower right calf. His boots were heaped in a pile on the floor, along with his breastplate and the rest of his armor.

She closed the door behind her as she walked into the cell. The temperature was comfortable to her, but Garren shivered as he lay sleeping. She moved into the shadows, standing just beyond the light that shone from the window.

“Garren,” she whispered. He stirred at the sound of her voice.
“Uskori mathro lestre ave nouromai.”
Her voice carried in the cell like the haunting echo of a ghost. He opened his eyes.

She stepped out of the darkness, the crystals on her gown shimmering as she’d intended, and continued to speak to him in Adorian.
“Istho exist aeloro ghant.”

He struggled to sit up and face her. Once he did, he lowered his gaze to the floor. He stayed quiet, making no move to address her.

“My blood is on your hands.”

He raised his head as she spoke, tears in his eyes. It surprised her. This was not the same countenance that she’d witnessed in observance. His eyes were red and swollen, his handsome features stricken with grief.

“Can you say nothing in your own defense?” she asked.

“I cannot …” the words caught in his throat. “I reached you too late. Had I known that you were right there beside me, in the sanctuary …”

“You made claims that you were responsible for the deaths of the humans. Do you deny this?”

“Aiden was in the sanctuary. I believe he was responsible.” It made sense to her now. He must have had his hand on Sara’s shoulder to make sure Aiden knew who he was accusing of treason.

“You are not surprised by my presence?” As she spoke, he brought his gaze back down to the floor. He now sat on the edge of the bed, his legs bearing his weight as he leaned on them.

“I have seen you in this manner before. I assume it’s either my delirium that’s conjured you, or your spirit has come to release me from this existence. Or I’m dreaming.”

She walked close enough to feel the heat from his body. She knelt down in front of him, cupped his chin with her hand, then rising up enough to reach him, she brushed her lips against his.

“And what if it is not a dream?” she whispered.

He remained motionless at first, his eyes still closed from their kiss. She moved her hand to the side of his face and he turned into her touch, bringing his own hand to cover hers. He sweetly swept his fingers along her skin, moving to her wrist. He lingered there for a moment, rubbing it with his thumb before reaching out and pulling her into him.

His kiss was deep, but soft. She let herself fall into his embrace, letting the strength in his arms hold her up. When he finally drew back, she was surprised to find herself in tears as well.

Garren stroked her cheek, smiling through his sobs. “You’re alive.” He sat back so he could see her. “I don’t understand. I saw you moments from death with my own eyes.”

She lowered herself to the ground at his feet and looked up at him. “I don’t have an answer for that — I was hoping you might. You were the only one in the room.”

Garren shook his head. “Whatever strength brought you back is not my own.” He took her hand, held it to his chest. He looked weak and exhausted. “The look in your eyes when I caught up with Aiden — I wanted to tell you so badly that you were safe.”

She smiled at him. “I know. I don’t remember much, but I felt your presence. I knew I wasn’t alone. You stayed with me through the night.” Suddenly, she remembered it.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching down to caress her face.

“I dreamed of my father. It was morning. He came to me, held me in his arms and told me that Michael was almost there. I’d forgotten about it until now.”

Garren withdrew his touch and sat back farther on the bed, a coolness abruptly spreading over his face. His change in demeanor was so sudden that it startled her.

“You shouldn’t be here, Ariana.” He looked away from her.

“I have nothing to fear by being with you. The decision is mine to make.”

The tone in Garren’s voice was more like what she’d heard in Eidolon and it chilled her to hear it. “I’m sorry for misleading you.”

Words formed in her mind, but she couldn’t get them past her dry throat. She reached out and tried to take his hand again.

He grasped her wrist, stopping her before she could touch him. “Don’t you hear what I’m saying? Don’t mistake my joy over your resurrection as anything more than what it is — a weight removed from a heavy conscience. I feel nothing for you.”

At first, she could do nothing but sit, stunned. Finally, she wrenched herself free from his hold and rose to her feet, rubbing her wrist where he’d gripped it.

She stood before him, trying to say something, anything — but closed her eyes, reeling with shock. She swallowed back tears. “There isn’t an ounce of truth in your words, but I
will not
plead for your affections.”

She turned to walk from the room, pausing once she reached the doorway. “The council will convene in three days.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-T
HREE

DON’T THANK ME

A

iden knew to keep his eyes to the floor, not because he’d ever been summoned to the Laionai before, but because of all the times he’d heard Garren reliving his first encounter with them. Aiden knelt down before them, his whole body tense with apprehension.

As the Laionai entered the room, a thickness entered with them. It was a corpulent dripping thing, tainted with the odor of decay. He felt his stomach turn. The closer they came to him, the more pressure he felt building up in his lungs, but he didn’t dare breathe.

“And what of the girl?” The voice dumbfounded him. He raised his head enough to affirm his suspicions.

“But… you’re… you’re
dead
. I saw the blood on the ground where you were slain.” The words fell clumsily from his mouth.

“Such little faith, Aiden. Did you think an ordinary Ereubinian would be able to gain favor with their eminence? With the Goddess? Did I not grant you back your speech by their power?”

“But — I don’t….”

Tadraem rushed Aiden, grabbing his shirt, and pulled him within inches of his face. Aiden could see the sweat pooling in beads along the hardened lines of the priest’s skin, the leathery look of his neck.

“Enough of your insolence,” Tadraem growled. “You’re blessed to be in this position, far more than you know. Why did you not tell me about the girl?”

“I was held in my chambers by Garren’s men. I couldn’t …” Aiden sucked his breath in, trying to control his shaking, as Tadraem pulled a blade from his belt and held it against Aiden’s throat. The smell of urine flooded his nostrils and Aiden realized he’d wet himself.

Withdrawing the dagger, Tadraem kicked Aiden in the chest with the sole of his boot, sending him sprawled to the floor. Above him, Tadraem spit, smiling as the Ordakai chattered and laughed.

“Dim, priggish, spineless and arrogant, you should count Garren’s death as more than providential. I would kill you, but you serve too useful a purpose for now. Get up.”

Aiden crawled to his knees, covering his crotch with his hands in vain. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Don’t thank me. You may decide you would have been better off dead.” Tadraem paused, and Aiden heard the dagger being re-sheathed. “You’ll be granted Garren’s title of High Lord Commander. But hear this — you answer to me and to their eminence.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Tomorrow night, as you are dedicated to the position of High Lord, all of Eidolon will see you bring me back from the dead, leaving no one to question your authority as the chosen one.”

“You … planned on dying?”

“I’d planned,” Tadraem spat, “on Garren killing me. Not on the arrival of his burdensome little friend. Alas, dead is dead. Now, get up!” He waited for Aiden to find his feet before continuing.

“Until then, see that the human army is gathered as their eminence has decreed. I have a feeling Adoria will be too distracted with Garren’s execution and celebrating its victory to ready their forces. Such a shame, I was looking forward to at least some resistance. No matter — they will find themselves slaves to the Goddess either way.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-F
OUR

RUIN OR REVELATION

M

ichael was sleeping when Ariana entered his chambers. He’d been asleep for hours as the day eased into afternoon. Light filtered through large, stained-glass windows that lined the longest wall, tinting the room in shades of blue and gold. His upper arm was wrapped in cloth, the cuts to his face cleaned up. He lay with his wings stretched out below him. She sat on the edge of the bed, next to Koen, who’d found a spot in the sun to nap.

She’d tried to go back to sleep, still feeling a little drained, but her exchange with Garren weighed too much on her mind.

“How long have you been here?” Michael’s voice was groggy and fatigued.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought you were sleeping deeply enough that I wouldn’t bother you.” She started to move when he grabbed her arm.

“No, stay. It’s alright.” He struggled to sit up.

“Stay still.” She turned toward him, inspecting a tear in one of his wings. “Do you need anything?”

He lay back down, shaking his head in refusal. “No. Just your company, though I should warn you, I’m not a very good patient.”

She laughed and started to fidget with the edge of the beaded trim on her gown, rubbing her fingers over the crystals.

“That was one of Genny’s favorites.”

Hearing the name reminded her of what she’d said to Michael before she’d left Adoria. “What I said about your relationship with her, I’m truly sorry. I had no — ”

Michael touched her lips, too tired to put much effort into the gesture. “I don’t want to hear another apology. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

She took his hand and gave him a slight smile in acknowledgement. “Are you sure it doesn’t bother you — seeing her clothes again?”

“No. It’s comforting. I remember soon after she died, having the oddest sense of grief over never seeing them worn again. It’s hard to explain, but — I don’t know. I suppose broken-heartedness displays itself in all sorts of ordinary things.”

She nodded, knowing too well what he meant. “After Father left, I remember missing a pouch he used to carry in his cloak.”

A curious smile appeared on Michael’s face. He tried to move again, but found it too uncomfortable. He motioned to his night stand.

“Pull open the top drawer.”

She reached over and slid it open. The first thing she saw was the leather pouch.

“He left it behind the day he died.”

She took it from the drawer and brought it to her face, breathing in the scent of the leather. “I used to play with this all the time when he was home, fill it with all sorts of things — it was kind of our little game. He’d always ask what I’d found for him, and I would always tell him he’d have to wait and see. I eventually outgrew it, but it was the first thing I thought of when I realized that he wasn’t going to come home.” She couldn’t believe that she held it again in her hands. The feel of the worn leather against her skin brought back so many memories.

“Keep it, please. I’m sure he would’ve wanted you to have it.”

She smiled, but couldn’t hold back her tears. When she opened the ties and peered inside, she saw that it was mostly empty, save one small object in the bottom, wedged in the corner. She pulled it out and realized it was an amulet, identical to her mother’s.

Michael narrowed his eyes, but didn’t seem to recognize it. “After he died, I glanced in it briefly, but never noticed that before. Curious looking.”

“It’s a key. I used one just like it to get into the Braeden tunnels — that amulet I mentioned earlier.”

“Father mentioned a key to me once. We were in the Saeculum and I was begging him to take me farther, to show me what was behind this huge, intricate carved door we’d come to that was, of course, locked. I was fascinated by it — though I suppose any boy would be at that age. Maybe we’ll go there soon, see if the key works on that door by chance, if it’s the same key he mentioned that day. Have you spoken with Garren, does he know you’re all right?”

She was hoping that he wouldn’t ask. “Yes. I’ve spoken with him.”

“I know that look well. What did he say to you?”

She briefly considered not telling him, but after what she had gotten herself into already by not being honest, she thought better of it.

“That he has no feelings for me — that his response and actions subsequent to discovering that I was indeed alive and not a vision were based on penance alone.”

She knew what his next question was going to be and it was unavoidable.

“What actions?”

She cringed. Kissing her brother’s mortal enemy would probably fall into the category of general treason. She took a deep breath, but he spoke before she could get a word out.

“He kissed you.” The words came out like the revelation of a grave illness.

“I won’t lie to you, I kissed him first. But he reciprocated with more intensity than I. As mistaken as I have been in matters like these in the past, there was no confusing the passion behind that kiss. His relief was palpable.”