Page 19

Chapter 18

A Shimmer in the Sky

I’d slipped back into my mother’s suite last night, well after dinnertime and anxious I’d need to explain my long absence somehow, but I needn’t have worried. She wasn’t there. The only sign anyone expected me at all was a selection of cold dinner dishes left on the buffet that I ate alone.

That night, sleep was elusive, my mind racing with all that Nier had explained, the new questions it had raised, and the way he’d abruptly left.

I didn’t get attached to people, or at least I hadn’t in a long time. Yet nobody in my life had ever answered questions in the open, direct way Nier had. I hadn’t realized how addicting it could be to talk openly like that with someone after so long, even when the nature of the answers had made him reluctant to speak and had filled me with a dawning horror of the world I lived in.

In the dimness of my room, I had drawn light from within me again, sculpting it into a tiny orb, only to realize my error as it hovered above me. The pure light emanating from it had overpowered the lumis orb resting on a wall sconce across from me. I’d hurriedly hidden the tiny one beneath it and thrown the night shade over both of them before finally falling asleep in an exhausted heap.

Nier had taken care of the one in the library, but I had no way of knowing if he’d extinguished it somehow or merely hidden it in dense shadow. So, I’d woken up determined to find him again, needing an outlet for all the new questions swirling in my mind.

He couldn’t stay. I knew that. If he hadn’t left already, he would soon. I’d told myself my need to find him was simple expediency, and it had nothing to do with him. I merely needed his knowledge and his help to get back to the library.

I’d searched the citadel towers for him again, but there had been no sign of him anywhere. My eyes had tracked every shadow, feeling a slowly suffocating dread as the hours passed and the potentiate presentation drew ever closer. The thought that he was likely gone had left me rubbing my chest as an ache twisted inside.

There had been nothing for it but to let my quest for him go and focus on what lay before me. Everything I had learned had helped open my eyes in such a way that it was impossible to close them again, but it hadn’t yet provided me a way to change my path. If he’d truly left, I’d have to continue down this path on my own, with only my unreliable mother’s cryptic warnings to guide me.

So be it. It was time I started taking care of my own future anyway.

So, now I stood alone again in the grand entry foyer, where I always seemed to end up, staring at the tapestry. Mara was still with her family in town, and I hadn’t seen my brother or Haniel anywhere in the citadel this morning, both undoubtedly busy with festival preparations.

A pervading emptiness washed over me. Not loneliness—I’d grown used to that over the years. This emptiness felt different to that familiar ache.

Gilded, marbled finery surrounded me, but there was no warmth to it. A dazzling multitude of lumis orbs encircled all the tall stone arches, yet it felt cold, barren of kindness or friendship. Of life.

With all the bustling Neven currently busy outside, I had stopped to linger for a moment. The intricately woven tapestry of Nur had always drawn me and brought me strange comfort. Today, it seemed to taunt me. Was it just another gilded, empty lie? If Nur hadn’t raised the citadel, had she gifted us with light, or was that a lie too?

In my memories, Nur had been vibrant and full of a love freely given, her light pure and radiant. I found it hard to believe what was required of her vessels within our society was any of her doing. It felt like a portent that she had once embraced the Neven but had scarcely been seen since the citadel rose.

“How could you let this happen, Nur?” I whispered into the deserted foyer as I gazed at her likeness. There was no answer.

The only thing I knew for sure was that Nur wasn’t here now. Although I’d felt her in fleeting ways at times, every golden relic and shining monument within this citadel was as empty of her as I felt right now. It all seemed like a gaudy pageant to distract the eye and hide the lies Lumière was built upon.

The foyer hadn’t changed in centuries, so I had to consider that maybe I had already changed, in ways beyond feeling stronger.

The thought that I didn’t know who I was becoming was unsettling, but I had a feeling she was someone I wanted to meet.

As I absentmindedly stroked the feather in my pocket, I felt a tickle of warmth as the comforting shadow twined around my fingers. Had Nier known I had them both with me yesterday? I knew I should have given them back, but I couldn’t bring myself to. The feather was mine; the shadow had come to feel like a friend, and I had need of one.

I turned my back on the tapestry. The enormous open foyer doors loomed large, perfectly framing the milling people beyond, as sunlight streamed in. The sounds of shouts and chairs dragged over cobblestones filtered through. There would be a small celebration on the promenade tonight. Not as big as the feast on the last night of the Ostara Festival, but there would be music and dancing for the people in town. Everyone had a role to play to get ready for the festival today, including me.

A flash of color caught my eye as the translucent cast of the halo in the distance caught the late afternoon sun. It wasn’t always visible, but when the sunlight hit it in just the right way, it faintly shimmered with iridescent colors. The sheer size of the halo and the power needed to wield it and raise the citadel took my breath away.

Nothing I had been taught even hinted at that kind of power, and it wasn’t in evidence anywhere else within the citadel. At least, not anywhere I had looked.

Every wielding eventually waned. It was why acolytes spent so much time wielding lumis orbs—to replace the ones that had faded. Yet the halo remained strong, and our citadel remained in the sky.

Something connected in my mind as I stared at the pinks and golds that subtly streaked across the halo, turning it into a thing of beauty, a living artwork. A light-filled monument all on its own.

Most of Lumière’s occupants rarely noticed the halo, and I suspected the elders liked it that way, yet I’d always felt inordinately drawn to it, as if a translucent string tethered me to it.

With a gasp, I realized another potential source of answers had been staring me in the face. I just needed the courage to reach out and see it with newly opened eyes.

To do that, I had to get through the milling throng and past the towering ornamental gates at the end of the promenade—something I’d sneakily done as a teen, but usually under the cover of moonlight. With the week-long Ostara Festival celebrations starting tonight, it wouldn’t be possible to sneak out. It had to be now, while everyone was distracted with decorations and preparations.

If I kept my head down and skirted through the edge of the orchard, I was fairly sure I could make it, and technically, I wouldn’t be entering the town. Not that I believed Elder Welkin would agree with the distinction, nor my mother, for that matter.

“There you are.” The hushed voice startled me out of my reverie as echoing footsteps hustled toward me from a nearby passage. “What are you doing standing alone in the foyer? I’ve been looking for you all day.”

It wasn’t the lilting voice with an edge of gruffness I’d been chasing, but it was still welcome. A hopeful smile bloomed as I turned, but I dropped my eyes at the sight of Haniel’s face marred by a deep, angry frown, similar to the one he’d worn in the orchard the other night. There was no sign of the cocky, cheeky smile of my childhood.

“I’ve just been wandering, watching all the preparations…enjoying being out of the acolyte dorm.” Not a lie, but there was a lot of important detail left out.

He paced and shook his head at me, still frowning. “Who chaperoned you? I got permission from your brother to chaperone you for the day, but when I went to your mother’s suite this morning, she said I was too late.”

“Nobody chaperoned me. I’ve been on my own.”

He groaned. “Alula, you’re a potentiate. You need a chaperone, and you need to take the presentation process seriously.”

I dared to raise an eyebrow at him. The Haniel I remembered took nothing seriously, except impressing Kiran. I sighed as I realized that was probably the motivation driving him now. “Elder Welkin disagreed with that opinion, Haniel. You were there, remember?”

He threw his hands up in the air as he attempted to wear a groove in the centuries-old stone underfoot. I was only partially paying attention to him now, though. My gaze snagged on the halo again.

“It’s not about Elder Welkin. It’s about you getting offers.” When I turned back around, he was openly pouting and following the direction of my gaze. “What are you up to, Alula?”

“Are you still my friend, Haniel?”

“Of course,” he answered, giving me a serious side-eye. “Why?”

“Because there’s something I need to do, and I need the help of a friend to do it.”

I looked at the guardian armor and rank insignia he still wore over his robe, despite being off duty. He straightened under my perusal, puffing out his chest in a way that made me want to smile—an urge that had once been common around Haniel but that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Don’t make me guess, Alula. Spill it.” He was curious now. I could see it in the way his eyes brightened and he subtly leaned toward me, an echo of the boy he’d once been.

“Do you remember when we used to sneak out and sometimes we’d go all the way to the gates and slip through them to stare out over the edge of the citadel?”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at me. “You want to sneak out, tonight? The first night of the Ostara Festival people often celebrate through the entire night. Besides, I think you’ll be a little busy after being presented. Everyone will be watching you.” He seemed certain of that.

“No, not tonight. Now.”

He turned to look out over the bustling promenade, then back at me, at a loss for words.

I hurried to explain before he refused. “You said yourself that you got leave to be my chaperone today. Nobody will think anything of it if you’re with me.”

“They’ll think something of it when we walk through the gates.”

“We’ll need to be stealthy about that part, of course.”

That brightness in his eyes dulled a little, and he took a subtle step back. “First you were outside alone last night, now this. The last time we snuck out together, you told me you’d do anything to become a vessel. Every time I’ve gotten a glimpse of you since then, you’ve been the perfect acolyte. Now you’re willing to throw all that away on a whim? Tell me why, Alula.”

“Because my life is going to change tonight, Haniel, one way or another. I tried hard to be the perfect acolyte, but being cooped up for so long was almost unbearable. I just…need this right now.” It wasn’t a lie, but skirting the truth felt like it, and my gut twisted. I knew I should be honest with him, but I had no idea what to admit to and what to leave out at this point, or how much I could trust the man he’d become while I was cloistered away.

The old Haniel wouldn’t have needed a reason to sneak out at all; he’d already be halfway out the door. My heart suspected this Haniel would take my hiding a Fallen as an unforgiveable betrayal.

Convincing Nier to take me to the library yesterday had felt like it was about me and had nothing to do with anyone else. Now, with Haniel looking at me like he didn’t recognize me, I understood why he had asked if I was truly willing to risk the wrath of my people if anyone found out. He’d wanted me to understand the implications, because it wasn’t just my people that would hate me. It would also potentially be my family and friends, as few as they were, and that would be a lot harder to take.

He considered me closely as I remained perfectly still, my eyes on his feet. “If I let you do this, tell me you’ll settle down and start taking your role seriously.”

His request had my next breath jamming in my chest. Part of me could understand where he was coming from, but in this moment, it felt like he didn’t see me at all. Needing air, I walked toward the open doors. Haniel trailed in my wake but let me gather my thoughts.

The shut-down version of myself I’d become to survive my acolyte years had always felt temporary to me, even though I now suspected I’d come far too close to breaking and losing myself entirely. In all that time, I hadn’t ever thought it would be something Haniel would want from me, despite our destined roles as guardian and vessel. I’d believed our friendship on the other side would remain outside of what the world wanted. That we’d remain “us” once we reconnected. The very idea that he wanted the almost-broken version of me made my world feel even smaller.

“Okay.” It was one simple word, but it felt like a lot more. It held a weight far beyond its meaning, like a chain winding around me.

If I discovered nothing of value by approaching the halo, my agreement wouldn’t matter. We were mere hours away from my presentation, and my future would then be out of both of our hands and in my mother’s. This was a desperate long shot and I knew it.

He held out his arm for me, and when I looked toward him, that cheeky grin I’d always loved was back. “Let’s go.”

That grin hit me like a slap, but he was taking me to the gates. While I wanted to take charge of my future, I still had a role to play, and now was not the time to stand my ground. I wondered briefly if that day would ever come.

As I took his arm and we stepped out, I took in the orbs draped through the tree branches arching over the promenade, the tables full of families below them, and the children sitting under vibrant ribbons. Some were sampling the food of market vendors or buying the brightly colored wares others were selling. Most were painting eggs in bright colors to be used to decorate the breakfast table tomorrow morning.

Mara’s mother had brought us to do the same when we were young. Childish memories of the buzzing joy of the Ostara Festival overlaid the scene in front of me as the townsfolk celebrated the beginning of spring. Vivid images of Mara and I ducking between the tables wearing our own wreaths and laughing as Haniel chased us flashed across my mind. I’d lost sight of these simple pleasures after I’d been banished from town by my mother, then forgotten them while locked up in the acolyte dorms, fixated on getting to the potentiate presentation.

Most of the people milling about were lesser nobles, or working Neven from the town—those with respectable jobs, like artists, traders, and seamstresses—wearing simple yet brightly colored robes and wreaths in their hair. I smiled impulsively at a few children, and they gave me big grins in return. A lone child raced up to me and shyly handed me a wreath of greenery interwoven with bright ribbons. With my own shy nod, I accepted it and put it on my head, to her immense delight as she clapped her hands.

If there was a beating heart within Lumière, it was here, not within the gaudy towers or even the Aedis.

My smile fell the farther we walked as a growing number of heads swiveled toward us. When the inevitable whispers started, I began to wish for Nier’s shadows.

The farther we got from the grand foyer doors and the market vendors, the easier it was to spot the common townsfolk. It was something I’d never noticed before now. Their robes were neat and clean but faded. There were no wreaths, and many looked far too thin, much like the boy Nier had saved earlier. Had they always looked that way and my childish eyes had missed it, or were things getting worse within Lumière?

Taking off my wreath, I handed it to a young girl in a frayed dress. She clutched it to her as if it were a precious gift and stared at me with enormous brown eyes until I was well past. Down here, the stares of the adults didn’t linger long once they landed on Haniel. A few Neven gave deferential nods to him, but most quickly returned to their business.

I’d never been chaperoned by a guardian before, so I couldn’t figure out if their attitude was normal or not, or if it was something to do with Haniel. I decided I didn’t want to find out. Not today, anyway.

As the crowds thinned further, Haniel gestured to the orchard with a gallant flourish and led me there, as if we were taking a leisurely stroll amongst the trees. As soon as we were under their dappled shade, we turned and followed the line of the promenade. By the time we popped out from the trees down near the gates, we were alone again.

Nobody ever seemed to venture down this far. There was no need to, considering going through the gates was strictly forbidden. As was touching the halo.

The rest of the town was encircled by high stone walls. This was the only spot the wielding was within reach, unless you flew up to it and exposed yourself to the guardians watching the skies.

“Stay here and keep watch,” I said. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“There’s no way in darkness I’m staying here, Alula.” His eyes widened in stunned disbelief that I’d even suggested it.

“Haniel, the gate is rusty and only slightly ajar. It’s wide enough that we could slip through as kids, but you won’t fit now. I will. If we try to wrench it open to fit you, we’re going to draw attention.”

Unable to deny it, he eyed the gates like they’d offended him. He was so broad in the chest now that there was no way he’d fit through. I’d never been so thankful for being smaller than Neven males.

“Fine,” he muttered as he spun around, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning against the wall.

I had the strongest urge to tell him sulking was unappealing, but I decided it sounded far too much like something my mother would say.

Even with Haniel watching the approach, my heart pounded against my ribcage as I stepped toward the rusted arch before me. It was beautifully wrought yet ridiculously broad and unwieldy, and at least twice my height. I imagined they would have looked impressive to outsiders riding up a dusty road to be greeted by their once highly polished magnificence.

Now, they were like so much within this citadel—overlooked and unseen. Even the citadel guardians seemed to have forgotten their existence. Despite them being off limits, they rarely bothered to watch the gates—a secret I’d learned long ago.

The balmy breeze that usually floated through the citadel was brisker here on the outskirts. It scented fresh and crisp as it mingled with the aroma of apples carrying over the wall. My feathered wings rustled as if they were urging me to fly off the edge of the citadel, far away, but that was impossible…or so we were told.

As I hurriedly pushed through the small gap, I was careful to tuck in my wings, knowing I’d been a lot smaller the last time I’d done this. I barely made it through, my heart pounding.

As soon as I was clear, I ducked to the outer edge of the citadel wall just beyond the gates, letting its solid weight calm my racing heart. I’d long ago learned this was a blind spot for the citadel guardians. Still, I waited, half expecting someone to call out in anger or descend from above. But all that greeted me was the breeze whipping my robe and my hair, and a growing hum at the very edge of my hearing.

As a youth, I’d crept as close as I dared to the wielding to stare at the unending horizon, hoping for a break in the clouds so I could peer down into the abyss below us. I’d been desperate to make out any details of the Atheran plateau from which we’d been carved out, and I’d liked to wonder if anyone was below, staring back at me. I used to think there was something romantic about it, but now I knew better.

The clouds parted, and I got a fleeting view of the distant Eyrie mountains rising to my right. I briefly wondered if any of the stories in the library were true—if wingless Neven rode wild beasts up there. As much as I yearned to see that, imagining the connection that must exist between rider and beast, it was something to ponder another time.

In all the times I’d snuck out here, I’d never dared touch the wielding that shimmered faintly before me now, pulling my gaze.

Stepping away from the safety of the wall, I sidestepped stray debris that had collected in the absence of traipsing feet. Spider-webbed fissures ran out from the halo, cracking the pale cobblestones, but the edge met the smooth face of the halo in a perfect arc, unperturbed by the rough passage of time. It looked like it had been sheared from the earth using the finest blade, with only empty sky beyond it.

The halo that kept the Fallen out.

Only, I knew it didn’t, or else how had Nier gotten in? So then, what did it do? This was the question I was here to answer, because if it did nothing, perhaps there were options out there I had never thought to consider. What I would do on the ground, when I knew nothing about the world beyond Lumière, was a question for another day.

This close, I could feel the hum of the light wielded within it—aware not only the sound, but the feel of it against my skin. It pulsed with an energy that felt almost sentient yet constrained. Within the translucent shimmer, there was also the faintest pattern. Without making contact, I traced the pattern with my finger, and the motion felt familiar. It appeared to be made up of repeated, unknown sigils.

Did I dare touch it now that I was here? What if the halo being dangerous to touch was the one thing the elders hadn’t lied about?

Reaching my hand out slowly, I halted as something flew past my head. A bright bluebird dove in front of me before swooping up to rest on the edge of the citadel wall behind me. It trilled, and I longed to know what it was saying.

“Hello, friend,” I whispered back as I turned to smile at it. “Don’t worry. I’m only going to touch it; I’m not going through. I just need to know how it was made, and why.”

The bluebird fell silent, and I took this for approval.

As I reached up my hand again, the vibrating hum grew stronger against my skin, until I pressed my fingertips against it with a featherlight touch.

A shock zapped through my hand that flung my arm backward as a hundred voices screamed in my mind. I bent double, cradling my head while curling my wings protectively around myself. I swallowed the panicked scream that tried to tear through my throat as my entire body heated. The spark of light within me pulsed and tried to rise of its own accord as my panic spiraled. I couldn’t let that happen, having no idea what would come out.

I dug my fingernails into my thighs, trying to draw my focus back to my body, and forced deep breaths into my lungs, one at a time, until the cacophony faded.

“Alula! Answer me or I’m flying over this light-damned gate!” Haniel’s frantic tone suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d called out.

“I’m…fine.”

After shuffling backward on shaky legs and almost falling as my foot rolled on a rock, I sat down heavily against the wall, cradling my hand.

“You were making a strange moaning sound,” Haniel called far too loudly, and I heard the gate rattle.

“Stand. Back,” I bit out. “I’m coming.” My words seemed to echo in my head as my mind reeled.

The lumis wielding that created the halo was trapped within itself, silently screaming for all eternity. The taint I had been feeling was an echo of this sound. And it hadn’t been wielded by one person, but by dozens, maybe hundreds, layered over time; some fainter, others loud and full of rage.

It had also never been designed to keep the Fallen out, as the codex claimed. I’d felt that the moment I’d connected with it. It had been wielded to keep us in. It held a shock that would escalate the more you pushed against it until it burned the light from within you, feeding it back into itself.

No wonder the Fallen that had survived being pushed through had changed.

Nier had spoken the undeniable truth. Our goddess didn’t wield this barrier and raise the citadel; the elders did, and the vessels who had aided them hadn’t done so willingly. I could still hear echoes of them screaming in my head, and I swallowed hard, trying not to throw up.

Did anyone else know? The vessels had to know. They had to feel it too.

The world shifted as I got to my feet, but it wasn’t the ground beneath me moving. It was the world coming into focus. I had swallowed down my questions for years. A new determination filled me now.

There was someone else in this citadel who had to have more answers, someone who had kept me at bay my whole life with their cold indifference.

My mother.