Page 29 of House of the Beast

“It’s so bright,” I said. Now that night had properly set in, the gate above the city burned brighter than ever.

Lanterns had been strung across every street in celebration, and in the distance, the white spires of the Weeping Lady’s Church gleamed like a lodestar for poor fools hoping to trade their woes for a drop of salvation.

On our carriage ride over, I’d peered out the window to see that those waterways ran clear as crystal, a gift from the Lady herself.

Here in the eastern quadrant, you could have dipped your hands into the canals and drunk from them.

I’d heard that some visitors did that, believing the water itself had healing properties.

I could have told them that was horseshit. I knew from experience the Church wouldn’t give something like that away for free.

In the distance, someone cheered. Music drifted faintly through the streets despite the late hour, and the boats on the canal were still packed with people being ferried to and fro.

I knew some of these canals fed into larger watery plazas where traffic converged, and from my window, I could even see one of these plazas in the distance, with a raised circular platform in the center upon which was mounted an empty arched gate.

In three days’ time, when the glowing array overhead aligned with the firmament of Kugara, I would step through a gate just like this one and find myself in the dark shadow of Sorrowsend’s reflection.

The buildings around me now would appear as their own imitations on the other side.

The capital had been built this way on purpose: a whole city constructed under the guidance of the holy formation above, to connect to the distant stars.

But first I had to pass the ceremony of initiation.

I looked back at Aster, who was now wiping his hands off on his robes, done with his task. He met my gaze immediately and smiled.

The ceremony was simple: baptism by umbral water.

In the court’s banquet hall, there was a font that held water from the umbral plane.

Our task was to be touched by it and survive.

The purpose was to ensure all Pilgrims entering the gate could withstand being in a world separate from our own.

Some could not, driven mad soon after by all the unearthly sights and smells and sounds.

And if a Pilgrim fell, so too would the men who had bound themselves to their service and their protection, all becoming monsters whose only salvation was death.

Unlike with the trial, which had been my first taste of true combat, I had little doubt that I would pass this one. With Aster always at my side, what could a few drops of water do to me?

“Should I be worried about the ceremony?” I asked him anyway.

He sputtered a laugh, though I hadn’t meant to be amusing. “No. The umbral water will not hurt you, Alma. I promise you that.”

“I suppose I’m more nervous about the banquet,” I said, sheepish. “All those people.”

“Yes, I expect you’ll have a much harder time with the sparkling nobility of Sorrowsend. I hope at least your uncle will be there; I would like for you to meet him.”

I looked at him with surprise, mulling that sentence over in my head. Aster rarely brought my uncle up, and this was his first time encouraging any interaction with my family. I couldn’t deny my curiosity. “What’s he like?” I asked. “My Uncle Maximus.”

It was a question I had considered many times but never dared to voice.

I was always afraid—that when Aster answered, he might show my uncle more favor than he did me.

Maximus Avera was, after all, the First Hand of the Dread Beast, and had always been revered for his connection to our House’s god.

I wondered if my uncle ever spoke to Aster the way I did, if that had been a sign of his growing madness.

I would have to be careful displaying my own devotion, lest the court decide I was too far gone to take his place.

Aster paused, as if suddenly unsure of what to say.

It took him a while to find his words. “Devoted,” he finally said.

“There has never been a more suitable vessel for the Beast.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye before turning back toward the window.

“Present company notwithstanding, of course.”

I rolled my eyes in an attempt to hide my childish relief. As silly as it was, I had always liked to believe Aster when he called me his favorite. “I wish we didn’t have to go through all this formality just to pour some water over our heads.”

Aster’s lip twitched. “If someone does go mad and die in the middle of the banquet hall, at least it’ll be on a full stomach with a band of musicians to see them off.”

“Has that happened before?”

An indulgent nod. “Plenty.”

“How gruesome,” I said, keeping my own tone light to match his.

“The people love it. It’s their favorite pastime, watching vessels of the Four Houses play games with each other.”

I sighed, curling my hand around my stump and rubbing my thumb over the skin.

“It certainly doesn’t feel like a game. There’s too much work to be done.

Some of the other Pilgrims have been in the capital for years.

” Like Kaim, who had been shipped here as soon as he turned fifteen for this very reason.

Or my father, who had traveled here on many occasions, sometimes spending months on duty before returning to Avera.

I, on the other hand, had been expected to wait obediently for him and practice my studies, so I hadn’t been afforded this luxury. “I’m at a disadvantage.”

“Don’t worry so much, Alma,” said Aster, taking my hand in his. “They have experience, but remember: you have me. I won’t lead you astray.”

“I know,” I said, though I couldn’t help my lingering doubts.

He gave my hand a squeeze. Absently, I squeezed back.

Then he said, “Can I kiss you?”

I jerked my gaze up to meet his. If he had wanted to distract me from my thoughts, then he had succeeded.

And if this were any other situation, with any other person, I could too easily imagine myself saying yes.

Here in this dark room, the two of us alone with the sounds of revelry drifting in through the window—it would have been like something out of a dream.

And that was exactly what reminded me that none of this was real.

Aster was a boy I had imagined for myself, a form given to the Dread Beast in my own mind. I let him touch me, but a kiss was something I would never give. It was already taboo for me to harbor these hidden feelings in my heart. This was the one dignity I would preserve for my own sake.

I pulled myself forcefully backward, resting against the window again, using the cold glass to ground myself. “No.”

He sighed like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. “One day,” he said with a woeful smile, “you’ll accept my affections.”

“You’re an elder god. You don’t know what affection even means.”

“You don’t think that I can care? That I can love?”

“I know you can’t,” I said.

“Maybe you’re special.” He leaned in a little, his eyes soft and earnest, like he could not help but be drawn into my presence. “The first to ever touch my cold, dead heart.”

“I would be burned at the stake for seducing one of the Four,” I replied, untucking my legs from under me to head to bed.

My heart, which had felt so at ease just a moment ago, was now beating an irregular rhythm in my chest. Stupid .

I allowed the weight of my own disgrace to settle it down.

Aster was only a romantic because I wanted him to be, I was sure.

He was doing this because he knew my deepest wants—and the humiliation of having them revealed, on top of the day’s journey, exhausted me enough to drive me to bed.

I had a busy schedule to look forward to tomorrow.

“One day you’ll see the truth of me,” said Aster as my bare toes sank into Sevelie’s plush rugs. “You’ll see, Alma.”

When I turned back to him, he was looking out the window again, gaze distant and burning as balefully as the gate above.