Page 14

Flowers & Portals

“Tziah, I need the pouch,” I say.

She riffles through our packs and produces a leather pouch. She undoes the drawstring and tips it over to dump a small pile of sand from the salt flats into my palm. Beneath the sand, pure white to the point of opalescence, the glow of my power ignites, making the pile appear to shine and shimmer yellow from within.

At my silent will, a small amount lifts into the air, heats, and melts. With a flick of my fingers, I shape the small bubble into a petal. Quickly I add more petals, layering them one on top of the other in a circular pattern, forming a glass rose. I’ve made so many of these lately, I’ve gotten fast and pretty good.

I used to only make my flowers for Tabra, for our secret garden off our rooms in the palace. But now they’re for something more helpful.

As soon as I finish and clasp the already air-cooled glass in my hands, I don’t turn off my power, but instead push my light into the glass. As I do, I picture Zariph Cainis’s face and where he would likely be this time of night, which is in his tents. Possibly with his zaripha, Magda, beside him. I picture that, too.

The Zariph Cainis, the leader of their zariphate of Wanderers in Aryd’s deserts, is an ally, albeit a reluctant one, pushed by his children and his desire for power into helping me and Reven and the Vanished. I am, after all, a queen. Of sorts. His people bowed to me, named me their ruler, making me a strong ally for him, too.

The glass changes and tiny versions of the space I pictured reflects in my flower. Cainis keeps the flower I gave him on him at all times, but at night, he sets it beside where he sleeps. I can see the lump of his form outlined in the dark that is illuminated by a single lantern.

I hold my flower out to Cain.

“Father,” he calls.

No answer.

“ Father .” Cain’s voice is sharper this time.

To give the Zariph credit, at that second call, he’s on his feet, a wickedly curved knife in his hand, sharp-eyed gaze scanning every inch of where he sleeps for the threat that woke him.

“Down here,” Cain says.

Behind him Tziah passes a hand over her mouth, hiding her grin.

“Your son is calling you, tesara,” Magda mumbles sleepily from somewhere far enough away I can’t see her.

Cainis swoops the glass flower up, holding it to his face so we see his features in each petal. “Cain?”

Who would think to use a flower as a portal directly to us? I’ve made them for all the spies I’ve sent off into the dominions to gather information. It turns out the Vanished blend into their original home dominions Reven rescued them from in ways we’ve found incredibly useful.

“It’s me, Father,” Cain says.

The zariph is immediately all business. “Did you get it?”

“Yes.” Cain shoots me a wink. “We have the last amulet.”

Sort of. We have the flute. We just haven’t figured out how to pry it open. Smashing hasn’t worked. Neither has any of our powers.

“Excellent.” The tiny reflections of his face look satisfied. “We have heard from the last of the zariphates. All is prepared.”

Prepared? I frown, catching similar expressions in the look Tziah and Vos exchange. I know Cainis has been reaching out to the other zariphs and zariphas around Aryd, hoping to gather more allies, but beyond that, we haven’t agreed to a specific plan. The next step isn’t so clear cut.

“When should we expect your return?” he asks.

Cain starts to answer, but I cut him off. “What is prepared?”

Cain and Pella share a glance, and I don’t have to hear the next part to know I’m not going to like it. “What have you been holding back?” I snap at them, the burn of anger rising.

The zariph answers for them. “We will take back our capital city of Oaesys and return you and your sister to the throne.”

I glare at Cain, who stares unrepentantly right back.

“Our queens did not agree to that,” Horus reminds him.

We’ve had this argument way too frequently. All of us.

“You weren’t there. Physically, yes. Mentally, no,” Cain says to me. “Not really.”

“But Tabra was.” Horus is quieter, angrier now. “And they are both our queens.”

I’m still snagged on Cain’s words. Maybe I didn’t do as well hiding my struggle with the Shadows as I thought. “I may have been…distracted. But I was here, Cain.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Vos crosses his arms, giving me a pointed look. “You weren’t.”

I glance from face to face around me. Was I really that bad?

“It’s the right move, Meren,” Cain says quietly. He sounds…tired. Of fighting with me? Of helping me? “You know it is.”

Ever since the fight on Tropikis, they’ve been after me to make a decisive military strike and reclaim Aryd. They’re not wrong that it would put us in a better position, not having to run and hide, and it would make it more difficult for Eidolon to attack. But what I keep pointing out, and what they don’t seem to understand, is that he’s so determined to free his mother from the amulet he wears that Eidolon won’t hesitate to wipe out an entire city of innocent people to get to me and what I have—his Shadows and the rest of the amulets. Not to mention Tabra. He may not have made her power work to free his mother before, but I’m sure he still thinks he needs her.

I shake my head. “It’s risking our people.”

“The Celestial Alignment is in a little over two weeks. The stargazers are sure,” Cain points out. “Even more reason to take Oaesys now. To be ready and operating from a position of strength when it does happen. It’s time to make our move.”

Hands on my hips, I drop my head forward. Hellfires.

“The Celestial Alignment?” Scoria’s lilting voice interrupts the desperate thoughts swirling through my head.

“Who is that?” the zariph’s small portal voice demands.

No one answers him.

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned it. Why is the Alignment important to you?” the giantess asks.

I sigh. “One of Eidolon’s escaped ghosts told me that it has some significance.” He did this while informing me of exactly what was trapped inside the amulets. “But the ghost told me I had to discern for myself why it was important.”

If he knows what the Alignment has to do with it, so does Eidolon. And yet, many Alignments have passed since my ancestresses did what they did, and the goddesses remain in their amulets.

“I do not know about the connection to the amulets,” Scoria says slowly. “What I do know is that all Imperium are at their strongest during that event. The Alignment opens a direct path to the Allusian heavens, from which they draw their powers—you included, young Queen of Aryd.”

A few of the puzzle pieces snap into place. Is that how my ancestresses trapped the goddesses? They used the Alignment to bolster their powers? That would explain why Tabra couldn’t free them before.

The question is, could she handle the extra power? My sister’s not ready. Her control is still limited, even after Scoria’s tutoring.

Plus, if it was that easy, Eidolon would have released his mother by now. There has to be more to this.

“Eidolon has two of the amulets—Tyndra and Aryd,” Cain reminds me. “All he has to do is release his mother, and the decision will be taken out of our hands. She’ll come for the rest.”

I know. My mind has been spinning with all of it like the vortex of the whirlpool of Mariana.

Hells. Eidolon is running out of time, too. That makes him even more dangerous. Threatening me like he just did was a risk on his part—he knows that. So why did he do it? Is he trying to make me come after him to get to Reven? Counting on my overwhelming need to save my bondmate to draw me in?

Curse the fates.

I look at Horus, then Pella, before finally landing on Cain. “Let’s take back Oaesys.”