Page 53 of Wild Reverence

XXXVI

When Stars Go Dark

MATILDA

I rode the eastern trade wind to my father’s great hall in the sky.

It was a sprawling villa made of pillars and white marble that reflected the stars, with stairs that ran and split like tree roots, leading to a maze of corridors and arched colonnades and gardens.

Here, the clouds hung low, drenched in sunset hues, and braziers burned with dark red flames, eager for the smoke of prayers.

I did not go directly to the hall, where I could hear the revelry. I knew my father would be there, as would most of his court. Drinking, dancing, feasting, lounging. Dulling the pain of Enva’s departure.

Instead, I took one of the stairways to the uppermost floor, where my personal chambers were tucked away in a quieter wing.

I could not appear before the court dressed in mortal underclothes, ripped and wrinkled and muddied, and I quickly dressed in a feather-light dress, soft and white as a cloud, with long skirts that deepened to a storm-blue gray.

I cinched my belt over it, but my arms felt bare.

I slid on two golden bangles, tucked my vial of poisonous blythe into a pocket, and combed my hair until it fell to my waist in presentable waves.

Then I made my way to the hall, hoping my father did not notice my lack of cloak.

As I anticipated, the court was here, in the throes of a feast.

I wove around the low-slung tables and cushions, my eyes coasting over familiar faces.

But I was looking for two in particular: Shale and Enva.

The former was the only divine I could think of who might assist me in battle, and the latter?

I worried she had cast a spell of sleep on the Underlings and returned Skyward.

If she had, then the tentative peace we had just made between clans would fracture, and I would also need to know how to wake Bade.

“Daughter.”

I turned to see my father leaning against one of the pillars, standing half in the firelight, half in the dusk. A golden chalice was in his hand, full of sweet nectar. I had passed him, so intent on my search that I had not seen him.

“Father.” I bowed my head, but my heart gave a sudden pang; as much as I longed for it, I could not ask for his support. He was not an ally of mine, despite our shared blood. Nor did I want to confess to him that I was entangled in a mortal dilemma.

“Why are you here?” His gaze raked over me, as if he could see the bruises and smell the river water in my hair. “I expected you to be below with Enva.”

“I have been on assignment,” I replied, which was not untrue.

And if Thile thought Enva was still in the under realm, she must be.

I did not think he would hide her away here after agreeing for her to go, and I also did not take the time to search below to find her.

She could have been anywhere in the under realm, exploring its many routes and crannies on her own.

“How was the wedding feast last night?” he asked next.

I winced, knowing I could not lie. “I missed the first one. Orphia sent me on an urgent mission.”

“Was it for your mortal husband?” Thile drawled, and I went still, like a deer pinned by a hunter’s arrow.

When my silence dragged on, my father smiled, but it was cold and sharp.

“Warin has told me of it. That you have bound yourself to a man. I thought I told you to go slowly, to let your prowess build before you threw yourself away on the first worshipper you came across.”

He is far from worshipping me, I wanted to say but did not, knowing it would only heighten my father’s displeasure. And I almost confessed that it was all a ruse; of course I had not bound myself by vows. But a warning caught the words like a net before they could spring from my tongue.

I could not afford to let Warin catch wind of this truth, to then in turn divulge it to Grimald.

And speaking of the wind…

“Have you seen Shale?” I asked.

Thile’s brow arched. “What do you need with Shale?”

“I have a message for him.” This time, the lie was smooth as polished wood.

“He is not here this evening; he is running his course through the mortal realm. But if you had a true message for him… you would have known that, wouldn’t you?”

My father knew how my magic worked. Once I touched and claimed an assignment, it claimed me in turn, guiding me to my target.

“The message is from me, ” I said.

Thile only lifted his chalice, taking a long sip. But he watched me over the golden rim; he knew I was plotting something. And to prove it, he said, “Why don’t you sit and feast? Enjoy your time with us, before you return to your husband.”

I had only just left this place, and yet how distant yesterday seemed.

Since he had mentioned Warin, I glanced around the hall, seeking him.

He was not there, eating, dancing, or drinking as he was so accustomed to doing.

He rarely missed court gatherings. And I could not explain why that troubled me.

I wanted to be as far from him as I could manage, and yet I needed to know where he was.

My eyes eventually settled on Luz, the goddess of rain and harvest. She was sitting at a table, listening to the flutes and the lyres whose music sounded tinny and flat without Enva’s to accompany it.

Luz was Warin’s lover. He had taken her for one not long after he and I had ended, and while Luz and I had never been allies, it still made the air feel strange between us.

She felt my stare and glanced at me, heavy-lidded and dark-eyed.

I thought Warin would not be far from where she was, but she was sitting with the god of the sea, and the goddess of mischief, and a few human vassals.

“I must go,” I said to my father, breaking Luz’s gaze. “But thank you.”

There was no one else I trusted here, no one else I felt confident enough to call upon if things fell apart.

I left the villa, and was descending the stairs to reach the threshold where the trade winds blew when Shale himself arrived, to my keen relief.

Tall and muscular, with a waterfall of silver hair, his face downcast as if in perpetual sorrow.

His steps were lumbering, his beard was long and wispy and clinked with beads, like wind chimes.

By appearance alone, one would deem him slow and old and easily distracted.

The worst sort of ally to call upon. But I was not fooled.

He was as fast in the mortal realm as he was powerful.

He was quick-witted and sharp, as if he lived two different lives: a somber, weary god in Skyward, and a passionate, clever god in the mortal realm.

It took him a moment to sense my gaze, and when our eyes met, he paused.

“God-child,” he said with affection, as if he was pleased to see me. In his mind, I would always be the little goddess that had run across the moors. No matter my age or my power, I would eternally remain a child to him. “What brings you here? Have you grown tired of your mortal husband?”

I had forgotten how rumors grew wings and flew through the courts like Fate’s owls. It was jarring as a herald to be the one centered in the news, and I sighed. I knew it was Warin’s doing, spreading this information to make me appear weak and compromised.

“No,” I said. “And I was looking for you.”

“Ah. You would like some advice, then.”

“Advice?”

“For having a mortal spouse. It is not the simplest of arrangements. They grow old and die. We cannot bear children with them as their blood cannot twine with ours. They can be just as fickle as us, and just as devoted. They can break their word and vows, far easier than we can.”

“Yes,” I said. “I already know all of these things.”

“Then I presume you are wise enough not to trust him.”

I paused, unable to hide my frown.

“Do you remember Julian?” Shale said suddenly.

“No. I am not familiar with that name.”

“That is because he was the god of prophecy, long before you were born, and his name has since been blotted out from our records, and the myths about him altered. His magic and stars were culled from the sky.”

I knew where this story was heading. Constellations only vanished from the night in one way, and I swallowed, waiting for Shale to continue.

“The mortal myths will tell it differently, but I know the truth. Julian fell in love with a human woman, whom he believed loved him in return. She was a princess—powerful and beautiful and skilled. She was also very shrewd. Little did Julian know that her kingdom was doomed to collapse unless she could prove herself strong enough to slay a god. She planned to do just that, and she wooed him. In the beginning, he would visit her at night, but he would never stay when she slept. He would leave when she dreamt, until one night she begged him to sleep beside her. He was weary, and so he did. Once he slumbered, she drove an enchanted blade through his chest, and that was the end of him. He bled gold upon her bed, and he departed the living realm with a whimper.”

I held Shale’s gaze for a moment, wondering how prophecy had once looked in the sky. Magic that had been lost. Stars that had been snuffed out by a mortal princess.

“I tell you this only to admonish you to be careful,” he said at last, touching my shoulder. “I would hate to see the same fate befall you, god-child.”

“It will not be my fate.”

He nodded and began to ascend the stairs, and I turned, my voice rising to catch him before he slipped into the revelry.

“Shale? There is a chance I might need your aid in the upcoming days. If I call to you, will you answer me? Will you help me?”

He stopped and glanced behind at me, brow arched. “Does this have to do with your mortal husband?”

I was silent.

He sighed. “Call, and I will consider it.”

With that, he continued on his way. I stood there a moment longer, my hands feeling cold. But granting admonishments and refusing to promise help when needed? Telling a myth in which a god is completely forgotten, all because he loved a mortal woman? These things should not have surprised me.

Such is the way of the gods.