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Chapter Twenty-Two

Aurelia

T he gray-robed cleric of Kosmel motions to the creatures scampering around the temple’s looming silver statue of the trickster godlen.

“I’d imagine Kosmel will approve of your intent.

Please don’t overly disturb the rats if you can help it.

They do have as much of a right to use this temple as the rest of us. ”

He steps back, giving me, Cleric Pierus, and the cluster of guards and soldiers around us a clear view of the base of the statue.

There must be at least two dozen of the large rodents, sleek and glossy-furred thanks to their portion of the temple offerings.

Their bodies rustle against each other with a faint skittering of claws against the stone floor.

I tamp down an instinctive shudder. Kosmel looks after his patron animal well, and it was their example that helped my oldest ancestors survive to found my home country. All the same, my studies in medicine have made me all too aware of how many diseases the creatures can carry and spread.

I admire their resilience and resourcefulness as a symbol of those virtues, but I can’t say I want the actual animals getting particularly close to me.

Turning to the two soldiers Axius and Captain Evando recommended for our first major experiment in combining divine gifts, I push a smile to my lips against the weight of gloom hanging over me.

Tomorrow morning, my lovers will vanish from my life for days if not weeks. We’ve never really been apart, even if we haven’t always been able to communicate in more than glances and signs. I can’t be sure all of them— any of them—will make it back safely.

But I can’t let my distress show in front of my subjects who expect me to still be mourning my murdered husband. So the best I can do is ensure we have as many advantages as possible in place so the conquered countries can actually come to our aid… if they choose to.

I focus on the ruddy-haired woman named Tobelle first. “You’re dedicated to Kosmel yourself, I believe? Your gift has to do with distraction?”

“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” She bobs her head respectfully. “I can divert attention from a specific person, object, or place. Usually only the attention of a few opponents and only for a short time, but it can come in handy.”

When she speaks, I glimpse a flash of iron in the back of her mouth—the back teeth she replaced. It’s a common dedication sacrifice for soldiers, though most at twelve aren’t willing to endure the pain of giving up more than a couple, as she did.

I can’t even imagine what agony Neven went through to have every one of his molars extracted .

“I’m sure it can,” I say. “Let’s see how it works on its own. Perhaps you could attempt to distract the rats into not noticing you and then approach them?”

“Of course.” Her gaze flicks to Axius and Evando, two superior officers she may hope to impress even more than she does me, before settling on the scuttling rodents. The little animals haven’t paid us much of any mind so far, clearly secure in their position here in the temple.

The soldier’s eyes narrow in concentration. She waits through a few breaths and then steps toward the statue.

I’d assume that a gift that could distract at least one human being should be more effective on much smaller creatures.

None of the rats look Tobelle’s way at first, continuing their sniffing and exploring as if they have no sense they might be imposed on.

Even when she sets her feet a little harder on the tiled floor, not one furry head twitches her way.

But rats are probably more alert to threats than even the average military-trained human. Or perhaps it’s simply that nearly thirty of them is too many for the soldier to distract all at once.

Tobelle takes another step, just a few paces from them now, and one of the nearby rats locks its beady eyes on her. With a squeak of warning, it darts behind the statue.

Alarm ripples through the swarm. Several rodents glance toward the soldier and bound away or brace themselves defensively. Others follow the first behind the statue without even bothering to check the source of danger.

Tobelle stops where she is, her mouth slanting at an uneven angle. “I’m sorry. That’s the best I could do.”

“Still impressive,” Evando says in a reassuring tone. “You wouldn’t normally need to be distracting enemy forces from so nearby.”

I match his tone. “We just want a baseline so we can see how effective our experiment is. We’d better give the animals a few minutes to settle down now.”

I shift my attention to her companion, a skinny man named Farro who looks like he hasn’t quite lost his teenage gawkiness. “And you’re dedicated to Prospira?”

He dips his head in a brisk nod, clasping his hands in front of him.

The motion draws my gaze to the spot where his little finger is missing from his left hand.

“When I consulted with the clerics before my dedication, they suggested taking an atypical route so my gift might be less easily predicted and countered. I can create fear in the enemy by giving them the sense that our forces have much more abundant resources and strength.”

My next smile comes more naturally. “Very creative.”

The rats quickly resume their previous scampering. At my signal, Farro’s stance tenses.

It only takes a matter of seconds before several of the rats shiver and run off behind the statue again. The others remain where they are but slow their explorations to look around warily. I can’t tell whether they’re affected by his gift as well or simply reacting to their companions’ behavior.

“Very good.” I gather myself. “While we’re waiting for them to calm down again, let’s get you in position for your joint effort. You remember the techniques we practiced yesterday?”

Tobelle steps over beside Farro. “Yes, Your Imperial Highness. I’m ready to give it a go.”

“Absolutely!” her colleague puts in.

I’ve been poring over the book on combined magical studies since Bastien offered it to me. The most beneficial part so far has been the notes on ways to increase the likelihood that two—or more—gifts will enhance each other when used simultaneously on the same target.

From what the author of the reports claims, Raul and Bastien combined their gifts almost effortlessly because of the brotherly bond they share. The better two people know each other and the more emotionally close they feel, the more easily their gifts will mingle.

For people who aren’t anywhere as familiar or connected, there are various ways to attempt to establish a sort of harmony.

One is physical closeness. Tobelle and Farro link arms at the elbow.

Another is a coordinating rhythm. When I see the rats returned to their previous activity and prompt the soldiers, they start tapping one foot, matching the beats to each other.

Tobelle’s shoulders tense as she gives Farro’s arm a quick squeeze to indicate they should both begin using their gifts. Their faces tighten into similar masks of concentration.

Maybe it’s only wishful thinking, but I’d swear a quiver of magical energy passes through the air and over my skin. The rats start to mill about in a much more frantic fashion.

The soldiers take a few steps toward them, tentative and then dropping their feet with more force while keeping up the thudding rhythm that’s connecting them.

The rodents don’t appear to notice them at all, too busy colliding with each other and heaving themselves out of view, not just behind the statue but farther away.

They definitely look more panicked than Farro was able to accomplish on his own, without taking note of the only real potential threat that’s approaching them.

Even as my spirits lift, the soldiers tramp closer—and the spell must break.

The rats that were still scrambling around each other go still and then shake themselves.

They peer at the nearby humans, one of them letting out an indignant squeak, and trot off around the base of the statue at a leisurely pace.

The soldiers’ arms sag apart at their sides .

Tobelle spins around, rubbing her temple. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s because I was trying so hard to affect all of them—I’m already feeling close to my limit.”

The records in the Cotean book did also suggest that combining gifts often takes more energy out of the casters than if they were working alone—especially when they’re not all that naturally aligned.

“That’s all right,” I tell her. “It was a great start.”

Pierus gazes around the temple with obvious awe. “It was amazing. So many wonders this world holds with the blessings of the gods.”

Axius claps his hands together. “It does. Let’s get back to the palace, and we’ll find other ways to practice going forward.”

When he’s climbed into the imperial carriage alongside Pierus, Evando, and me, the high commander lowers his voice for our ears only.

“I wasn’t sure this experiment would be worth all the fuss…

but I can’t deny there could be advantages, if we can match up the right gifts and put them to work in an ideal place on the field.

When you have a smaller force, you do sometimes need to turn to creativity to win the day, even if it complicates your strategy. ”

A light laugh escapes me. “I hope our creativity is enough.”

Despite his approval, the flare of exhilaration that lit in me when I saw the soldiers working their gifts in tandem has guttered. It’s progress, yes—but are we going to make enough of that to have an effective strategy in time?

As the carriage rattles over the cobblestones, Evando adjusts his position on the cushioned seat. “The princes are definitely setting out in the morn?”

The innocent question hits me like a jab to the gut.

I manage to keep my tone mild. “Yes, the plans are set now. They’ll leave in the early hours when they’re the least likely to be observed.”

“May the empire’s luck go with them,” the captain says, but his expression turns brooding as his gaze slides to the window.

Is he worried about the princes’ loyalties—or about how one particular prince will fare on his journey? It doesn’t feel like my place to pry.

It doesn’t feel as if I’ve done enough to ensure any of the fostered royals will make it back to Dariu safely.

I peer out the window at the passing buildings, and my gaze snags on the elegant towers of the city’s largest Esteran temple off to the east. Will my gift of the stolen books be enough to win Estera over to our side, for whatever help the godlen of wisdom can provide?

How much have I even done, just putting those books in the princes’ hands to carry out the perilous part?

The comments Bastien’s father made to me months ago rise up from my memory—the questions about how much I’ve stretched my gift. A lump fills my throat.

I want to heal the empire. I want to cure anything that’s gone sour in my relations with the godlen whose support I need.

Could I make a different sort of appeal work? It isn’t that different from how I reached out to Sabrelle in the temple weeks ago—although she simply shunned me.

I can hope that the godlen of wisdom will be more open to hearing me out.

I focus on the distant spires and reach toward my gift. If I wanted to mend any ill-feeling between myself and Estera, make my relationship with her as healthy as possible… what would it take?

Images waver and flit behind my eyes. I see arms reaching up and a greenish light streaming down to meet them. A sensation of propelling higher, of soaring upward, ripples through my body.

I blink, and the impression fades, but my heart keeps pounding faster. I think I know what would catch Estera’s attention.

Is it a little mad? Perhaps even a lot. But if it means Estera’s blessing goes with the princes on their journey, some madness is more than worth it.

I turn to Axius, who’s watching me as if he noticed my distraction. “We have one more trip to make today. But I need to retrieve something from the palace first.”