Page 13

Chapter 12

A Home No More

Consort Mort’s greeting assailed us as soon as we walked into my mother’s sumptuously decorated suite. As her consort, he didn’t live with her, but had complete access to her living quarters. He lounged on a white sofa in the living area, propped up on cushions and eating rare fruits from an overflowing bowl.

“I was bathing and ensuring Alula didn’t disappear on us. We need her to at least attempt a respectable appearance this week.”

As my mother spoke, she moved to an ornate sideboard to gather some breakfast from the selection laid out. She handed me a bowl before taking hers over to sit beside him. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, so I sat on a chair facing them and subtly watched.

Between mouthfuls of fruit that dripped obscenely down his chin, he idly chatted about the current political maneuverings within our wing. I tried to recall what little I’d known of him as a child, but there wasn’t much. My mother had always sent me away whenever he’d appeared.

From his chatter now, it seemed he harbored ambitions of becoming an elder and expected my mother to help him achieve the prestigious title. He’d also recently been busy blackmailing other lords and had no issue gleefully boasting about it in front of me, yet he appeared far too indolent to enact any of his plans.

Having indulged in too much good food and wine over the years, my mother’s consort hadn’t aged as well as my mother. His once thick hair was thinning, and his face had gone jowly. His red robe, ornately embroidered with gold thread in swirling patterns, was currently half open, with his distended belly hanging out.

His oily voice slid over me as he talked and he eyed all the spots where my robe stuck to my damp skin. His predatory perusal was even worse than the gazes of the guardians last night.

Knowing what I knew now, I couldn’t stand to look at him and struggled to eat the bowl of fruit in my lap while unease had my stomach churning. I’d been so focused on becoming a vessel that I’d only thought about my consort in abstract terms.

I now understood Haniel’s frustrations and fears.

This was the future the elders had planned for me.

“Has anyone else approached you about offering for her?” he asked, his eyes remaining fixed on my breasts, though it was clear he wasn’t talking to me. “We need to maximize this opportunity.”

Instead of answering him, my mother waved her hand at me in casual dismissal. “You know where your old room is, Alula. It’s mostly the same as you left it. The seamstresses will be here in half an hour to fit the new clothes in your wardrobe. I don’t care how you amuse yourself until then.”

It was the same dismissive neglect that had shadowed my childhood. Right now, though, it suited me fine. A moment alone sounded perfect.

I wondered why she’d made me sit with them at all. Perhaps it was a lesson. A glimpse into a future we both wanted me to avoid.

As I walked away, I glanced at her over my shoulder, and a realization dawned on me. For all her faults, my mother had given me freedom for as long as she was able, perhaps knowing what was to come. I may not have been coddled, but she’d shielded me at her own expense and kept me far away from her consort. For that alone, I should be grateful.

It was common for a vessel not to reveal the parentage of her children. As a child, I’d idly assumed Consort Mort was my father, but now, I wasn’t so sure. It was a troubling insight that had the potential to change many things about my childhood.

I shook my head at myself as I entered my old room and shoved those thoughts aside out of habit. Now was not the time to pick at old wounds.

I stopped a few steps into my bedroom and looked around with fresh eyes after a decade’s absence, not having stepped foot in here since I’d turned thirteen. The furniture had been built with the same beautifully hand-carved and golden-hued wood as the sideboard in the living area. My bed and small side table were the same, I could see all the nicks and scrapes of my childish adventures. Yet my single-door wooden wardrobe had two more alongside it and they took up most of the wall.

The other pale stone walls were still empty, with not a tapestry or painting in sight to soften their chill or provide some colorful relief for the eye. Two tiny, narrow windows, too small for even a child to fit through, the only relief from the austerity. The bedding fabrics were still simple white linen, but as I ran my hand over them, I couldn’t help but notice how luxurious they were compared to the scratchy blankets of the dormitory.

There were no toys or trinkets, there never had been.

My mother was right. Not much had changed since I’d last used this room.

Except for me.

I’d never cared much for things, even when I was younger, but it struck me now that I had left very little imprint on the world. I could disappear, as my mother wanted me to do, and barely leave a trace. It left me feeling disconnected from the world in a way I hadn’t felt, even while I had been separated from it.

Trying to shake off the odd feeling, I moved to put my things in the wardrobe, but stopped in my tracks as soon as I opened the first door. There was an array of sparkling new dresses hanging in there. The fabrics were undeniably beautiful, but the idea of wearing them was daunting.

Leaving my basket on the side table, I was at a loss for what to do next. I had half an hour to myself—a rare luxury—yet it left me even more unsettled. My first morning as a potentiate should have felt liberating. But as I lay on the bed, attempting to shake off the revelations of the morning, a lost sensation swelled that I struggled to push down.

Without Kiran here, this wasn’t my home.

Yet there was no other place else to call home, either.

I fought with myself to rein in my wayward thoughts. It had been years since I’d had this much trouble with my emotions, but now they kept floating to the surface, even as they weighed me down. Memories came with them, flickering moments of simple joy long forgotten, a childhood lived in blissful ignorance thanks to my brother. They were a stark contrast to my adult life so far. A version of me I no longer recognized, and that I struggled to reconcile.

When the seamstresses finally arrived, and the room became a flurry of activity, my emotions still refused to settle. I stood silently through endless hours of dress fittings. All while being poked and prodded by strangers who surreptitiously stared at me when my mother wasn’t looking. Yet, the numbness I’d cultivated to survive became increasingly elusive.

Like a pretty doll. Not expected, or trusted, to have an opinion.

By the time the sun set in a blaze of colors, washing the glittering gowns strewn about the bed in pinks and purples, I was ready to scream. I tried to make eye contact with my mother, wanting to get her alone to ask more questions, but to no avail. Her gaze continuously slid away from mine. Her mask stayed firmly in place until they’d put away all the fitted dresses, and she ushered the seamstresses out and left with a pointed frown. My inability to settle and appear sufficiently demure had been a frustration for her all day.

As I stood and stared at the door, the ground felt as though it shifted beneath my bare feet. I didn’t belong back in my childhood bedroom. There was no place for me here. It felt like wearing the wrong skin.

Leaving my fate in the hands of my mother didn’t feel right either. My mother’s plan of staying out of sight in town while concealing my energy seemed like another cage, much like the acolyte dormitory. That tiny, shining light deep within me had started up a soft, warm thrum since my mother had released my memories. Suppressing it again felt as wrong as the taint in the light within the citadel.

If I had to play a part for a while longer, I’d do it, no matter how much it grated, but I wanted it to be my choice.

Sighing heavily, I swung the night shade over the lumis orb on the wall to dull its light, letting only pinpricks of lumis filter through. Then turned and crawled into bed in my slip, not bothering to change into night attire. I couldn’t stand the thought of even one more change tonight. Sleep eluded me, but that was okay, because I had thoughts to think and plans to make in the deepening silence as the rest of the citadel quietened around me.

Letting go of my need to corral them, I let my whirling thoughts go where they would, trying to find a pattern or a path through them.

For a while, one thought turning over in my mind dominated all the others. If everything I’d ever been taught was a careful deception, and I’d believed it willingly, how could I now tell what was the truth? Who could I trust? My mother was right in that I had to be careful, yet being careful was also the very thing that had kept me quiet and ignorant for so many years.

Reaching over, I opened the drawer in my small side table and took out an old, battered copy of the codex, surprised it was still there. Leafing through it, I recalled the niggling doubts about the codex I’d had during my years as an acolyte. The rare ones I’d let breathe for a moment, and the ones that had haunted other sleepless nights. The same ones I’d pushed down in the light of day, along with everything else that hadn’t served my goal of becoming a vessel. They all rose in my memories now, reinforcing all I’d recently learned from my mother.

Knowing I’d been right to have doubts made me hesitant to shove down the warnings that swirled now, even if I could make them stay down. If I could only trust myself, I was going to have to rely on my own instincts to find a new path forward. Not blindly follow the path others were still trying to set, my mother included.

I began ripping out pages until I was surrounded by a mass of crumpled paper lies. Throwing the cover across the room, the thunk as it hit the solid wardrobe sounded loud in the heavy silence.

It solved nothing and did nothing to appease my growing anger.

Even if everything else in my world had changed, my need to serve the goddess hadn’t. That was a flame that burned too brightly.

As the stars wheeled past my tiny window, my hand crept under my pillow to the black feather I’d stashed there, and a tingling warmth twined itself around my fingers. It brought a strange comfort and a pull I couldn’t explain. Where every other path led to a locked door I already knew far too well, this was the only path that opened a new one.

It brought the only sense of hope I’d felt all day, even if it was a tenuous one.

And it wasn’t lost on me that it had come from a tiny wisp of darkness.