Page 67

Saying Goodbye Without The Words

Today. It’s happening today.

The Alignment.

Release goddesses. Fend off Eidolon. Try not to die. Keep my friends safe. Try to feel nothing to prevent Eidolon or the Shadows from taking me over.

No pressure.

I glance at the skies. The moons at this point have disappeared against the brightness of the sun, but according to the star watchers, we’re in the first phase of the total solar eclipse when the celestial bodies become as one and the sun goes dark.

Is it a little dimmer outside? I can’t tell.

Any minute now.

Tension coils through me, like a rag twisted all out of shape. Pella, walking along beside me, keeps me moving through the courtyard between the palace and the throne room. After so many surprise attacks and falling into traps, I almost think the waiting and knowing is worse.

As we emerge from the hypostyle hall and approach the massive double doors to the throne room—already wide open—I can hear our friends’ voices.

Vos’s voice trickles out of the doorway. “I think this might be the longest table I’ve ever seen.”

That’s what they’re talking about? I don’t know what I was expecting. Grim silence, maybe. Or low, tight voices going over the plans yet again.

“It’s definitely the ugliest,” Cain says.

For the briefest of flashes, my lips quirk. They’re talking about the formal table usually in the dining room of the palace. I’ve always thought it was ugly, too. The thing was carved from a single slab of black-and-gold granite. It’s obnoxiously ornate and seats up to fifty guests, which is roll-my-eyes ostentatious. It’s also creepy. Something about the angled lines of its many legs reminds me of a bug.

Tziah had it moved in here just for today. I’m sure the palace servants just loved that task.

“All it needs is antennae and mandibles and it’s a giant centipede,” Cain says.

Tabra’s giggle is unmistakable. “Meren used to say the same thing.”

It’s good to hear her laughing.

This was Tziah’s idea—to start in the throne room where Tabra and I will have to perform a miracle at the peak of the Alignment, regardless of whatever else happens.

We have no idea when or how Eidolon is going to strike. Despite days of us all hovering on a knife’s edge of anticipation, he’s yet to make an appearance. He has to show before the Alignment, though, given that he’d rather only his mother be released and we’re planning to do far more than that. But when, where, how…we have plans, and backup plans, and secret plans, most of which have been hidden from me, all ready to be implemented as soon as it happens.

But Tziah wants us to take one last moment together. A breath. Even if it’s a short one. When she told me the idea, I thought it sounded silly, but maybe not. Maybe we need this.

I sniff at the scents wafting into the hallway. “Did she arrange for food?” I ask Pella.

She shrugs, but her lips still tilt. “I don’t know how she thinks we’re going to be able to eat today.”

Seriously.

We walk into the room, and they all go quiet.

It’s been days of avoiding them and them avoiding me and being watched like an evil chrysalis. None of that is their fault, and I just now realize I’ve also been setting the tone. Or maybe getting Reven back has lightened at least a part of my heart to see Tziah’s right. We need to cherish each other while we can.

So I can’t help it. “You don’t have to stop talking for me. Possessed people can laugh, too, you know,” I tease.

Beside me, Pella groans, and at the table, Cain laughs. Tziah, meanwhile, smiles and pats the chair between her and Reven. As the rest of the group ease a tad, I make my way around and sit. He brushes his hand against the part of my arm hidden by the table. The others know he’s recovering his memories. We haven’t told them more than that. Reven’s choice. One less distraction or worry, he said.

So we’ve kept up a front of distance.

Instead of taking his hand like I want to, I lean over to look past Tziah to Vos and Hakan. “It’s good to see you both up.”

Hakan just nods. Meanwhile the cocky grin Vos flashes me is very him, though he can’t quite hide the glance he flicks at the maimed shoulder. “The Imperium was right. After two days, the pain isn’t so bad.” He waves the stump where his arm used to be. “Getting used to doing everything with my left hand, however…”

By the way he’s gripping a spoon like a child first learning to eat, I can see what he means. “I can’t imagine how much that sucks, but knowing you, you’ll be doing amazing things with that hand soon.”

He leans back in his chair with a suggestive leer. “Such as?”

I roll my eyes. “Not what you’re apparently all thinking.”

Laughter fills the room.

Vos waggles his eyebrows. “I wasn’t thinking anything. What were you thinking?”

Good grief. “I don’t know.” I shrug. “Knife fights? Whittling? Masterpieces of art?”

Instead of laughing again, he drops the spoon to stroke his chin. “Master of art. That has a nice ring to it.”

Even Hakan rolls his eyes.

Tziah chucks a roll at Vos, then she signs to him with rapid gestures.

“Hey,” Vos protests. “I could absolutely draw a recognizable stick figure on a cave wall if I still had my right hand!”

Which gets the others laughing again.

Tziah was right to have us do this.

I wish to the mother goddess that Bene was here. And the others we’ve lost, too. I press a hand over my chest, trying to ease the sudden ache.

The servants enter with more food. I toss a glance to the moonhole in the roof of the throne room. The sun isn’t visible in its circle yet, but we’ve been assured by all the stargazers and seers and our Viziers that it will be at the height of the Alignment.

A tray of warm cinnamon bread appears before me.

“Hungry?” Reven asks.

I still refuse to look at him, mostly because if I do, I’ll melt into a puddle. I take a piece without speaking.

Beside me, Tziah gives her version of a small sigh rife with disappointment. Maybe I’m taking this distance thing too far.

I look at Cain, who is sitting across from Reven. “What’s the status with your people?”

He glances around before setting down his utensils. “We’re ready.”

That’s all he’s going to tell me. I should know better than to ask. “Good.”

“Hey,” Pella says. “The rule is no strategy at the table. We’ve done everything we can.”

Everything we can do in a small amount of time, but she’s right. In pulling my gaze from Cain, I accidentally peek at Reven only to be snared by his gaze. He’s looking straight at me, serious as always, intently searching as he does, but also…

Why can’t I make myself look away? I should be stronger than this by now. I force my gaze elsewhere.

This time I’m pretty sure the entire table sighs.

They seem determined to blame me for this situation when Reven’s the one who wants to keep our secret. Something he seems to think is hilarious. I catch the hint of a chuckle under his breath and elbow him.

I expect him to distract the others. Instead, he grabs a roll and casually says, “I have most of my memories back and Meren and I are together again.”

Shock sends my spine ramrod straight and I glare at him. “You were the one who didn’t want to say anything. They need to focus.”

“I knew there was something off!” Vos is the first to crow. His exclamation sets off the others, who are talking over each other.

Reven reaches under the table and laces our fingers together, then leans closer. “You clearly couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

I scoff. “That isn’t true.”

“I know.” He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose and grins. “But I could tell it was bothering you.”

Was I that obvious?

“You used to be a better liar,” he teases.

My cheeks warm and I glance away to find Cain staring at us from across the table, his expression inscrutable, and I realize he’s the only one who hasn’t said a word. The others are all still debating who knew something was up with us and who didn’t.

I open my mouth, then close it again. What can I say to him?

Then he offers me a soft smile. One tinged with sadness, but a smile all the same. This new normal may take a little getting used to, but as my best friend, he’s still happy for me. I can feel it.

The slap of feet on the polished floors coming down the hall toward us sucks the levity from the room. Vos, Cain, and Hakan all jump up from the table to crouch in defensive stances.

The palace servant boy someone sent skids to a halt, turning pale at the sight of the three of them ready to kill him.

“Seven hells,” Pella mutters as we all relax a bit.

The boy still remembers to give us a bow. “A man is at the gate demanding to talk with Queen Mereneith.”

Tabra and I exchange a look. “Did he give a name?” she asks.

“Horus,” he says. “He says he’s a Wanderer, but he’s dressed like he’s from Tyndra.”

“The hells you say,” Cain snarls, whipping his gaze to me.

I’m on my feet. “He’s come on my orders. You may not kill him.”

“Damn it, Meren!”

“Yell at me later.” I face the boy. “Go fetch him. Run.”

A few minutes later, Horus appears in the doorway, urgency vibrating in every taut line of his body and his pinched expression. He rushes toward me, only to pull up short as Cain steps in front of him.

He stops himself and drops to one knee, head bowed. “Eidolon is coming. He brings his army.”

My heart stops beating for a second. So it’s war, then.

“When?” I demand.

“Fifteen minutes at most.”