Page 61 of Keeper of the Word (The Unsung and the Wolf Duology #2)

Chapter

Fifty-Five

TOLVAR

N o sooner had Tolvar bowed his head than the memory of praying with Sloane on the Falling Leaves Moon entered his mind. He stared at his hands, so perfectly recollecting how Sloane had guided them into the Deogolian prayer position. “ Hands. Heart. Head ,” she’d uttered.

I wait for you. The vision of her in his dream was far too real.

Elanna had not instructed him what to do with his hands, so he folded them the way Sloane had demonstrated. Simply clasping his palms together, as many Lenforese did when praying to the stars, did not feel correct.

The StarSeer’s stillness disconcerted him. Yet, she’d commanded him to bow his head, so he did not raise it to discern what she did.

’Twas a long time, and Elanna did not stir. The night’s breeze gently swayed the moonbeam flowers, and Tolvar watched their heads bob. A few crickets chirped. Tolvar let out a sigh; his healing thigh ached to shift from a kneeling position.

The Edan Stone laying in the clover did nothing.

His eyes roamed as his boredom grew.

Then, Tolvar.

The voice. ’Twas Sloane’s voice .

“Keep your head bowed, Sir Tolvar,” Elanna whispered.

He almost asked Elanna if she’d heard Sloane’s voice, but as he was uncertain if he was allowed to speak, thought better of it.

She must have heard it, he decided.

With ears primed, Tolvar anxiously waited to hear Sloane’s voice again.

Instead, he recalled her frightened face transforming into an undaunted expression in the alley where they’d first met.

He recalled Sloane try and try again to pierce a target with an arrow.

Her fearless countenance before she sought the goddess of the Azure Moon.

And the last tender gaze she’d gifted him before galloping away on Kenn. To her doom. To her glory.

Sloane would know how to receive the word from the stars, even if she was a woman of the moon faiths. She would know.

Tolvar, you are the keeper of the word.

When Sloane’s voice sang through his mind that time, he let it reverberate over him.

I do not carry the faith that you did. Tolvar responded in his mind. How can I possibly believe that I am meant for this task?

He closed his eyes and was brought back to the white room from his dream.

An intake of breath escaped him.

Sloane sat next to the open window, the view of which was still barred by a brightness.

Someone needs to do something. Why not you? she said.

“A great many reasons.”

You are a man of courage, Tolvar. Sloane gave him a close-lipped smile. A man who came back from the depths of his own self-loathing. Change in ourselves is the greatest act of bravery I know.

“I am not so changed, Sloane. I am an unbeliever, still.”

She nodded. ’Tis your decision, I suppose. But I would not be here if that were entirely true.

Tolvar puzzled over her words. A strange ripple in the air caused him to open his eyes. Immediately, he was pained to not be in the white room with Sloane. The blankness of the dark meadow met his eyes. Night was fully unfurled before them. Elanna still knelt motionless.

But the Edan Stone. The Edan Stone appeared lighter.

Tolvar flinched. When the Edan Stone had transformed in Deogol, it meant the Befallen was upon them. But the shade’s color—a subtlety—was silver, not grey.

To the one they call the Wolf. We See you.

The voice was Sloane’s no longer, but one with an ethereal timbre. The voice was neither male nor female. ’Twas neither high nor low, nor mighty, nor gentle. ’Twas everything and nothing. A voice that defied time and consciousness.

In night and in day, by land and by sea,

The man before us is one of constancy.

A knight of the good, a defender of light,

A seeker of justice, a protector of the right.

Hold to your virtues, and you shall be undeterred,

Hold within you the fortress, keeper of the word.

The voice ceased.

Tolvar held his breath.

Before his eyes, the Edan Stone floated into the air. The silver recast its shade into one of soft white. It grew brighter. And as it rose higher, Tolvar followed it with his eyes until he was gazing at the divine figure of Elanna.

He caught his breath; his eyes widened.

Elanna glowed.

Her entire being—beatific and celestial—radiated as though starlight emitted from her pores. Her golden hair appeared as if made from the brilliance of the sun. She held her arms outstretched before her, her gaze concentrating in between her hands.

And between her hands was a sphere of light as if she’d caught a star.

It hovered between her palms. Her eyes did not break from what she beheld, and Tolvar knew that if she bid him to bow his head again, he would not have the capacity to obey.

He was transfixed .

His mouth gaped open.

The Edan Stone continued to float until, finally, it kissed the sphere of starlight Elanna gently held in place. The two became one, and a flash of light ricocheted outward.

Gripped by the scene in front of him, Tolvar warmed, and the same voice of the stars touched his heart.

He heard within himself a singular word.

A word unknown and strikingly exquisite.

Tolvar closed his eyes and memorized the blest word.

He imagined rolling it off his tongue like the sweetness of an early summer day.

He imagined hearing it again, a rich, pure melody.

Tolvar knew he could search any library in Lenfore and find no definition.

This word was not of this world. But even still, he felt it.

Felt that it encompassed every enchanting and worthy thing.

The word was a safeguard. And he would die sooner than not protect it.

A tear rolled down his cheek, and Tolvar opened his eyes and wiped it away, breaking his clasped hands apart.

Elanna stared at him.

The light had vanished. The Edan Stone, onyx laced with silver once more, lay casually in the clover. Everything seemed ordinary.

“And now, keeper of the word, be you ready. I will know when ’tis time. Until then, you must guard the Edan Stone with everything you have.”