Page 5

Chapter 4

A Potentiate Emerges From the Fire

All the noble families within the citadel belonged to, and lived within, one of five wings. Each wing was headed by an elder and had its own towers and entrance to the Aedis, with their crest carved over the ancient limestone archway. The tallest tower belonged to the Welkin Wing.

As Elder Welkin reached our entrance arch, he pointed us toward a patch of shadow, then stepped through to stand regally alone on the other side. The noise within the Aedis quietened. Within moments, the other four elders appeared in their archways, as if they’d been waiting for him.

All the elders remained paused under their crests for a moment to build anticipation. From my spot in the wings, I could see the subtle pageantry of it all as hovering lumis orbs spotlit their magnificence. It was a not-so-subtle display of dominance Elder Welkin was well practiced in delivering.

As a novice, I’d come to the Aedis to sing in the choir during celebrations, but I hadn’t been back since I’d become an acolyte. I took advantage of the moment to peek forward as much as I dared and gaze at the room spread out before me.

It was as stunning as I remembered, especially with the soft, dusk light streaming in through the soaring central glass dome. Intricate carvings of our ancestors covered the rest of the ceiling, with their wings spread wide and notched bows stretched taut as they fought snarling creatures in some long-forgotten battle. I’d sometimes snuck in here as a child just to stare at it in wonder, imagining what the world might have looked like in those days, back before my people had escaped to the clouds.

The floor of the Aedis descended in stone tiers toward a flat center space beneath the dome that held a dais visible to all. Instead of the usual rows of chairs, tonight, the tiers held circular tables filled with winged Neven. But not just any Neven. The space was brimming with hushed males, all eyes fixed on the archways beyond the elders.

Seeing so many males in one place was daunting after being so isolated. I hadn’t been told much beyond that Mara and I, along with potentiates from the other wings, would serve eligible males tonight. I wasn’t sure how serving them dinner would prompt them to become a consort, but I knew very little about the process at all. My mother’s consort had paid me little attention as a child, and I had no idea how he served the goddess.

Movement had me peeking farther out as the elder at the archway to our left moved forward into the aisle. He was shorter than Elder Welkin and wore the same robes but was much less weighed down with jewels. Three nervous-looking potentiates stepped through, following closely behind him. Their pale hair, wings, and white robes shone in the light, and hushed whispers rose like a wave spreading through the room.

As more potentiates appeared, following their elders like meek ducklings, the whispers grew louder and bolder. Males shifted in their seats, many farther back rising to stand and jostle for a better view. The rustling of their clothing and feathers added to the growing noise as they tried to get a better look. Some looked almost feverish, their eyes wild and faces flushed. As a child, I’d heard stories and seen pictures of the packs of wild wolven that hunted on the ground. Tonight, these males appeared to have the same predatory intent, almost as if they were circling and stalking us.

I was glad the Welkin Wing males seemed to be a little more constrained and had stayed seated along the edges of our aisle. Neven males were taller than females, and I was shorter than most. I couldn’t imagine being surrounded by them. The rare males approved to enter the acolyte quarters—mostly scribes—were all respectful and averted their eyes. Even the ceremonies I’d attended in here as a novice had been solemn, constrained affairs. Nothing like tonight.

The noise grew until it was the din I’d heard on approach, as many males began shouting to each other across their respective wings. Even the silent ones were intimidating, with the calculating way they watched the potentiates. The room held an air of unchecked excitement that I’d never encountered before.

The commotion made me lightheaded. I had no idea what might be expected of me tonight, or how to navigate this new arena. This was supposed to be the simple part—the reward at the end of my acolyte years—but nothing about this room appeared simple. After a decade of guarding our virtue, I suspected we were about to be thrown to the wolven. I wasn’t sure about the other elders, but I had no reason to expect protection from Elder Welkin.

I’d become so engrossed in watching the room that I startled when Elder Welkin stepped forward and began his descent down our aisle. The roar intensified momentarily, then an unsettling hush fell over the Aedis as I followed Mara out of the shadows. A weighted silence descended over the room—one I tried to tell myself was out of respect for the Welkin Wing’s much-feared elder, but his stiff, unhappy stride suggested otherwise.

As did the whispers that started up again after a few moments. The ones that had followed me my entire childhood and continued into my years as a novice. I’d forgotten how intimidating they could be.

“That’s the one.”

“…the one that looks like the goddess. I told you she’d be here.”

“Look at her wings. Pure white and gold at the tips, just like the goddess’s. I didn’t believe it was true.”

“…golden hair and pale blue eyes just like the goddess too.”

My hands itched to pull up my hood so I could hide in its comforting embrace, but I didn’t dare disobey Elder Welkin’s orders. I’d hoped the fascination with my appearance had died down, but it appeared that wish had been misguided. My absence seemed to have only increased the fascination.

My body felt hot under the intensity of all the eyes tracking my every movement. Not daring to meet any of the loaded stares, I kept my gaze firmly planted on the aged stonework at my feet, its surface smoothed to an almost polish by centuries of potentiates treading this same path. I thought of all the vessels who had come before me in my family line. If they had all endured this walk, I could too.

When we reached the center, Elder Welkin stepped through the milling potentiates, while I attempted to hide within their ranks. It was useless with my hood down and wings out, but I tried anyway.

From where he stood between us and the males, Elder Welkin cleared his throat. It wasn’t an official ceremony, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from taking center stage. As the other elders took their seats, Elder Welkin raised his arms in solemn supplication, then began addressing all the wings.

“My people, I take this opportunity tonight to remind you not to seek false idols, for they are deceptive and will lead to your ruin.” His impassioned words and the glow of the hovering lumis reflecting off his finery drew all eyes to him. My chest tightened as his words reverberated in the sudden quiet. I knew without a doubt he was speaking about me. “There is only one Goddess of Light, and she is our powerful protector. Trust in her and her teachings in the codex, or share the fate of the Fallen, who perverted her gift and lost her favor before being cast out and now live amongst shadow and unimaginable horrors on the ground. Make no mistake, they covet what we have and plot our downfall. Do not seek to supplant the goddess with those amongst us. Stay true to her, not her image, and she will continue to keep you safe here in our citadel.”

Despite his words, many watching eyes drifted to me as he spoke. Elder Welkin stiffened almost imperceptibly. Most wouldn’t have noticed, but I had long become attuned to the smallest of his movements. The potentiates around me remained as still as the stone carvings adorning the roof. No potentiate would dare so much as breathe too loud while an elder spoke.

Elder Welkin lowered his arms and bowed his head, giving the appearance of graciousness. “I can tell you are hungry and impatient for your meal. So, for now, enjoy the company of our newest potentiates. Potentiates, you may all lower your hoods.”

Mara complied, but the other potentiates remained still, appearing confused by his request. He turned and frowned as he gestured at them, and they quickly followed suit.

The statesmanship slipped when Elder Welkin caught my eye. The fury in his glare had me attempting to shift farther back into the throng. He’d either also misjudged people’s enduring fascination, or his earlier fury had led him to err in making me remove my hood. Either way, it didn’t bode well for me.

Attempting to hide did little good. The space that cleared around me told me I wasn’t the only one who had caught that glare.

I forced myself to keep my head held high as I followed the directions of a chaperone who was ushering the potentiates back. A tremor in the stone beneath our feet had us all hustling to comply. I turned in time to see the carved circle in the center of the floor lower, then slide away, revealing a stone dais that rose in its place, laden with food.

I watched, bewildered, before I recalled seeing the dais rise during ceremonies when I was younger, usually with an elder standing on the plinth. I’d never seen it up close before, nor covered in so much food.

As I stared, the chaperones directed us to pick up plates and a tray from the nearest pile, then load the plates with rare cuts of meat and root vegetables generously covered in gravy. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the aromas, my mouth watering after living on plain food for years. Serving the food was such a simple task, yet my nerves fluttered like hovering butterflies, knowing how many males were watching our every move.

Focusing on what was in front of me, I took my time as I attempted to settle myself. Something about tonight made my skin prickle in silent warning and all my instincts riot.

“They’re just males,” I muttered to myself as I hefted my loaded tray, before I scanned the room for my brother, Kiran, hoping that he was still a single male and would be here.

He was easy to spot, being the tallest guardian in any of the wings, with golden hair the same shade as mine and almost as long. Unlike mine, his eyes were a warm brown. He was also in the first tier, as befitted his status. With careful steps, I made my way toward him.

Warmth bloomed in my chest as he waved off other potentiates, his gaze locked on me. He seemed to have grown even taller, and considerably broader, but he was still the brother that had all but raised me, saving me from the cold indifference of our mother.

Kiran beamed at me as I handed him a plate, grabbing it in a way that our hands overlapped. His fingers tapped mine briefly before he pulled the plate away—a secret signal we’d shared as children when things had gotten tense at home and he wanted to let me know he was there.

“Let me know if anyone gets too familiar tonight. I warned the males from our wing to be respectful, but I’ll still try to keep an eye on you.” Relief swept through me as my brother’s words settled my swirling nerves a little. Maybe I wouldn’t be as friendless in this next stage of my life as I’d thought.

As I passed a plate to the next male at his table and received a gruff thank you, I recognized Nico, one of his closest friends. As I looked at the rest of the table, it surprised me how many faces seemed familiar, despite how much bigger they had all grown since I’d last seen them. Most appeared to be his formerly teenage friends. Many of them gave me affectionate smiles too.

A dark blond head with a boyishly sweet face and a cheeky grin popped out at me from farther down the table, shooting me a wink. I had to look away before I gave in to the urge to poke my tongue out at him. I suspected Kiran had called in a few favors to get my best friend Haniel into his flight when he’d first joined the guardians. He, Mara and I had been an inseparable trio. Our parents were in the same social circle, so we’d spent a lot of our childhood together.

When Kiran had left to become a trainee guardian and had to live in the barracks, he’d made Haniel promise to watch out for me and keep me out of trouble, a task Haniel had taken seriously. He’d always hero-worshipped Kiran. Now, from a rumor I’d overheard, it seemed Kiran was keeping Haniel out of trouble. I hadn’t gotten the details, though, as the gossiping chaperones had quietened when I’d passed.

“Thank you, Lulu.” The affectionate nickname from my brother when I finished serving them had a lonely prickle of tears rising. I fought them down, but I couldn’t resist raising my eyes to his and drinking him in. I missed him terribly, and his hugs. Kiran hugged with his whole body as well as his heart. You felt the love every time. At least, I had. It had been a long time since I’d gotten one. Only, he was no longer looking at my face. He was eyeing the welts on the back of my hands with a frown. The fresh ones and the old ones. Hating him seeing them, I tucked my hands out of sight.

Unlike me, Kiran had fulfilled the early promise the elders had seen in him. The lanky boy I knew had long ago disappeared, replaced by the broad lines of the burly, intimidating man in front of me. He’d become a flight leader at twenty-one, and five years later, became the youngest guardian ever appointed as a wing commander.

I eyed the sun insignia on his chest, the symbol of our wing. A pair of wings now embraced it, and five stars highlighted in gold curved around the top, showing his command status. He’d been in the role for a year now, and I was so proud of him. It also meant I’d gotten to catch glimpses of him whenever he’d met with Elder Welkin, even if I still hadn’t been able to talk to him.

Kiran’s eyes hadn’t changed, though. His deep affection and protectiveness for me still shone through. I risked shooting him a small smile when he looked up, the motion feeling unnatural at first, as if the muscles in my face had forgotten how to do it. He searched my eyes, looking for answers I wouldn’t give him.

He did the weird head-tilt thing he’d often done as a child, his eyes glazing as if his thoughts had gone elsewhere. It was more subtle now. Most people wouldn’t notice, but I did. When I’d asked him about it long ago, he’d shaken his head and changed the subject. Seeing the tiny movement again made my smile bloom more naturally. He was the same Kiran I’d grown up with.

I turned away before I got in trouble for lingering. My next plates loaded, I surveyed the Aedis to see which males from our wing were still waiting for food. I wasn’t brave enough to serve another wing. At least some of these males from the Welkin Wing I’d known as a child. I smiled tentatively at a few, knowing I needed the practice, but it made me intensely uncomfortable to see up close the way many of them were watching me.

I had no expectation that my looks alone would help me secure a consort offer. I didn’t know how the relationship between a vessel and a consort worked, but I knew it was about power, and I had very little of that.

When all the guardians had plates of food, the chaperones directed the potentiates to smaller empty tables ringing the center dais. The perfect spot to eat our own meals, in clear view of all the males. Most of the potentiates settled into a table below their own wings and ate quietly together. Mara and I were the only potentiates from our wing this year, so the seats around us were glaringly vacant.

I watched the other potentiates and noticed some were nervously meeting the eyes of watching males. I figured if they were, I should too, but the behavior felt strange to me, and this whole evening seemed off. Of the rest of the potentiates, quite a few looked terrified.

I looked over at Mara and noticed she was subtly watching someone over my shoulder. Curious, I followed her line of sight and was surprised when it looked like she was watching Haniel as he stood to tell a story, gesturing animatedly to his flight. Drawing all the attention, as he always had. It made me smile fondly.

“When was the last time you spoke to him?” I asked, wanting to feel the companionship of confiding in a friend again.

Her eyes widened before they flicked back to her plate. “Who?”

“Haniel.” I wasn’t sure why she was pretending she hadn’t been watching him. Unless I’d been mistaken. Maybe someone else in my brother’s flight had caught her eye? I glanced over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see anyone watching her in return.

I’d seen her sneak out of our dorm a few times when we were transitioning from novices to acolytes. At the time, I’d assumed she was going to see her family, but now I wondered if it had been someone else. I hadn’t blamed her, and I’d never said a word about it to her or anyone else. I’d snuck out a couple of times myself around that time, taking advantage of the somewhat more lax chaperoning of the novices and daunted by the knowledge we were about to become sequestered from the world for years.

“I don’t know.” Guilt flared in her eyes, and memories of our shared childhood rose between us like ghosts. The need to hug her and tell her I held none of the loneliness of the last years against her rocked me. I missed her, and the simplicity of our early friendship, with a fierce ache.

If only I’d known what we’d grow into, I would have hugged her tighter back when I could. The isolation and loneliness Elder Welkin had cultivated in my life felt like a deliberate cruelty. And I didn’t understand why. What would it hurt for me to have friends?

I fiddled with the food on my plate, pushing it around more than eating it, and swallowed at the lump in my throat. The rich scents becoming cloying rather than enticing.

“Are you looking forward to the potentiate ceremony?”

Her words were stilted and the question innocuous—something you’d ask a new acquaintance on first meeting. It felt like she’d reached over and snapped the olive branch she’d offered earlier. Although, from her slight grimace, I got the impression it wasn’t the question she’d wanted to ask, which took the sting out of it a little. Maybe she was nervous with so many people watching us? I couldn’t blame her for that.

Maintaining my perfectly aligned posture and my eyes on my plate so as not to draw attention from Elder Welkin, I kept my answer light. “All I want is to get through it without tripping over my own feet.”

As a child, I hadn’t been known for my poise. I risked a peek up at her, and she had pursed her lips tightly to hold in a rare smile.

I blocked out the rest of the room and focused on Mara. There was so much noise echoing around the vaulted stone of the Aedis, with people talking, knives scraping on plates, and jugs of ale banging on tables. I was fairly certain nobody would overhear us if we kept our voices low.

“Alula, you know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?” Mara’s words were soft and heartfelt.

I flicked my hand subtly, attempting to wave her off, unused to gentle words. “Many people would disagree with you on that, my mother included.”

She winced, knowing I was right. It didn’t put Mara off, though. Now that she’d started talking again, she didn’t appear inclined to stop; instead, she changed tack. “Aren’t you nervous about the presentation? I know I am,” she confessed, the last words a whisper.

“I haven’t let myself think that far ahead until now. But you shouldn’t worry.” Mara’s path hadn’t been easy either. I’d been as much a silent witness to her struggles as she’d been to mine. Yet no one could doubt her potential. I shot her a tentative smile. “You’re one of the most promising potentiates in our generation. I’m sure you’ll get an offer.”

“We both know it’s not just about our ability to wield. Lineage is important for vessels, and mine is currently far outside the sphere of influence within Lumière.” She stared down at her plate, as unused to flattery as I was. Her shoulders hunched as her wings subtly curled around her. She moved some sautéed carrots around with her fork, sharing my lack of appetite.

Her father had been a celebrated artisan but, after falling out of favor with Elder Welkin when she was young, he no longer had a good social standing. I’d never been told why, and I hadn’t wanted to ask. Her family had been forced to move from their suite in our wing into a small house in town. They were now relying on her to elevate them back into a better social position by becoming a vessel. It was a weight she had shouldered alone for too long.

It surprised me when she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and spoke again in the same low voice. This time, her words held a rushed urgency, as if she knew our time to talk was running out.

“I have a secret too. I know something they’re not telling us.”