The Shattered Star, page 20
Briefly, Bethrian laid out what Seda said and the seemingly rather intense relationship between Caesonia and the warriors sworn to protect her. Though he left out the fucking quip. Caesonia didn’t seem the sort to indulge in that sort of thing.
Desmin leaned back as Bethrian spoke, letting the words wash over him. Or through him. It was hard to tell. What did Caes ever find attractive in him? He wasn’t ugly, but Caes was intelligent. Meanwhile, Desmin was only good at pretending he was.
When Bethrian was done with his little speech, Desmin said, “So, Soul Carvers are usually not that friendly with their charges. That’s what I thought.”
“No,” Bethrian said. “It’s typically a purely contractual arrangement. And it is unusual that she has the same ones constantly. Take the Soul Carver Cylis for example. He hates everything. I expected him to leave her months ago. Me—and a lot of people—attributed their loyalty and care to Caes being Karima’s Prophet but…”
A wide smile suddenly spread across Desmin’s face. “Your Highness?” Bethrian asked.
Suddenly, Desmin clapped and the door opened, revealing a red-haired maid, a rather comely one. But most court servants were pretty. “When I received word you wanted an audience, I thought this might arise. So, I prepared.”
Was Desmin thinking for once? Skull Seda asked. Huh. That’s…huh.
The maid approached and curtsied deep to Desmin, her brilliant red hair contrasting all the browns in the room. “Your Highness,” the maid said, bowing her head as she stood.
“Tell Lord Bethrian what you told me,” Desmin said, grinning like he was a little boy who discovered his first taste of honey. Goddess below, just how clever did he think he was for arranging this?
The maid turned and gave Bethrian a curtsey. When she stood, she said, “I was in the Princess Caesonia’s rooms when she first arrived from Ardinan. I was carrying a floral arrangement from Princess Melonie, a gift to help her feel welcome. And…” the maid shifted on her feet.
“Go on,” Desmin prompted.
“She was standing next to her Soul Carver. Close. They were touching, like they were…like they were…”
“Like they were what?”
“Lovers, my lord.”
Desmin smirked, pleased, as Bethrian tried so very hard to keep his face even. Soul Carvers lacked boundaries, but a lover that did not make. “Can you describe the Soul Carver, please?” Bethrian asked.
“Tall. Handsome. Dark hair. Eyes that reflect—”
“He means something that doesn’t describe literally all of them,” Desmin snapped.
The maid swallowed. “His hair went to around his ears. He seemed unpleasant. He…scowled. At everyone.”
“Did he by any chance look like he swallowed a gallon of vinegar and had a lemon shoved up his ass?” Bethrian asked.
“Um…yes?”
Well, Caes didn’t have that many Soul Carvers. And half were women. So that left Fer, Erasmus—who was excellent at minding his own business—and the chief scowler—Cylis.
Cylis.
Cylis?
Cylis? Seda screamed. There’s no way—unless? That would explain so much…Gren, what if this whole time—
“See?” Desmin asked. “This is proof she’s in love with a Soul Carver.”
“I doubt anyone is in love with Cylis, except Cylis,” Bethrian said, fighting the urge to chuckle.
Desmin’s eyes darkened. He gave the maid a nod, sending her scurrying out of the room. “How do you know who it is? There’s so many Soul Carvers around her.”
“Process of elimination. And years at court.” Bethrian smiled. “I agree that Caes’s Soul Carvers are unusually devoted to her. But in love with her? That’s a stretch. Especially Cylis. Good goddess, could you imagine waking up to that puckered ham every morning?”
Gren, you’re not ignoring me on this. Gren—
“Regardless,” Desmin said, “you agree that the important thing is that the Soul Carvers would do anything to make sure Caes is safe. Protected.”
“Yes. I’d say that is a good guess.”
Desmin’s lips curled, and Bethrian’s stomach twisted like he had swallowed pickle brine. He didn’t want to hurt Caes, not really. But it looked like he had no choice.
“I think we can use this, Lord Bethrian,” Desmin said, rubbing his hands together. “Leave it to me.”
Chapter 30
Caes
Finally, finally, finally the royal entourage was almost done with Fyrie. Caes had met with pompous nobles, greedy merchants, wrinkly scholars, ragged peasants, and Karima’s zealous clergy. Meanwhile, Althain had socialized, smiled, and negotiated his way through the Ardinani court, albeit with more success than Caes. That was fine. This was the last time Caes was going to be in this city, if she had anything to say about it. Alright, first they had to destroy the rebels and then stop here again on the journey back to Malithia, but that next visit would be blissfully short. Maybe she could ask Fer to give her a slight case of poisoning, something that would excuse her from having to travel back to Fyrie.
Now, what had they actually accomplished? More than Caes expected. While relations with the Ardinani royal family itself were frigid at best, prominent merchants were more than happy to establish ties to the Malithian Empire. Furthermore, ambitious nobles were anxious to build their own relationships, especially if Malithia decided to remove the current royal family. This was an excellent time for enterprising parties to look towards the future.
No matter—she was almost done. Done. Blissfully done.
All she had left was a ridiculous ball, which was tomorrow night.
That night, Caes went to sleep reluctantly. Something nagged in her stomach—which of the dozen or so impending disasters was keeping her from sleep? Alair’s death? Marriage with Althain? The Ardinani court? The goddesses?
Caes fidgeted, no position bringing her comfort. She needed to sleep. It was bad enough she could barely eat, she couldn’t go without sleep too.
Just when her eyes became heavy and she started to forget what she was worried about, the next thing she knew she was wide awake in her room, and by the familiar yearning that raced through her core, she wasn’t alone. She rubbed her eyes, groaning as she moved her legs to the side of the bed and sat, facing her visitor.
“Hello, Lyritan,” Caes said. “It has been some time.”
“Caesonia,” the god said, crouching before her, sorrow written on his face. “I never thought you would be so unhappy to see me.”
“I’d like to sleep for once,” Caes said. And think. She needed to think.
“No, I think it is something else.” The god took her hand and she swallowed. “What is it?” The hand cupping hers was warm and calloused. So human. Yet his golden eyes were a giveaway that he was something else entirely. Not to mention how her body stirred at his touch. Oh, she could choose him. Maybe she should choose him. He had been kind to her, at least. She had to choose a god, why not the one who made her yearn for him? “Tell me, dearest,” the god insisted, and Caes wanted nothing more than to please him, to make him smile.
“I…Karima—”
“What did she want?” Lyritan spat.
“And Shirla—”
“They, Liu—Caesonia. You can’t trust them. Whatever they said, you cannot believe a word.”
“I trust no one,” Caes said. True enough, as far as the god was concerned.
“Whatever they said, my love, you cannot believe them. They will say anything—promise anything—to get you to agree to help them. They don’t love you,” he added softly. Some distant feeling stirred in her, a familiarity begging to be remembered.
The god paused, his rapid breaths slowing, until they were even once more. “I understand that this is troubling for you. After they did so much, and you can’t even—” He shook his head. “Tell me exactly what they said. And I will explain why their words hold nothing but lies.”
Caes sighed, more to buy herself time to compose an answer than out of exasperation. Should she tell the god everything the goddesses said? Reveal their threats and promises? Then again, why not?
“A friend of mine died,” Caes said. “Friend.” Alright, some things didn’t need to be shared, and she had a feeling Lyritan wouldn’t be happy to have her lover returned—or know that she had visited him. “He was a Soul Carver, and he helped me when I was breaking the curse. Karima promised that she would bring him back. And Shirla promised the same, but instead she offered to return my father. Both implied that I would regret choosing the other. Or you.”
Nodding, Lyritan let go of her hand and pulled the chair that was at her vanity closer to the bed and sat. “Let me tell you what happens to Karima’s and Shirla’s favorites. Once, Karima loved another woman. A mortal woman. But she couldn’t stand the thought of the woman dying. Do you know what she did?”
“…Made her a Soul Carver?”
“No.” Lyritan scoffed. “If only she did that. No. Karima brought the woman to her realm, and due to her being there, the woman became effectively immortal. But Karima put her in a cage. And forgot about her. Left alone for years—decades—woman went mad. Then, disgusted with what the woman turned into, Karima killed her.” Lyritan watched Caes’s reaction. She doubted she displayed much of one. Caes had read too many stories for that little tale to surprise her.
“As for Shirla,” Lyritan continued, “there’s a similar story, except this one was a young man. Shirla was so anxious to win his favor she forgot she was a god. Forgot what their power can do to someone who is not meant to have it. She came to him in her true form—and burned him to death. The man she claimed to love.”
That story Caes had heard before—the man was named Soteris, and he was honored by those who worshipped Shirla, some believing he still lived on and served her in some form. Due to how he allegedly died, however, Caes had thought the story a parable for not trying to reach above your station. Apparently, she was wrong.
“And you think they’d trap me in a cage and forget about me?” Caes asked. “Don’t they need me, for whatever spark of divinity or whatever you claim I have?”
“They need you alive, since only one who is a mortal and god both can go inside the Burning Hand, as was decreed at the world’s creation,” Lyritan admitted. “But they don’t need you sane. Do you really think either one of them would allow you to roam free, with your power? When you could return and destroy them at the Burning Hand at any point?”
That…was a valid point.
“There is more,” Caes said, and Lyritan’s eyebrow crept up. “Karima said that it would be harmful to me to awaken my power. That I shouldn’t. And hinted that you intended to harm me.”
Caes had never seen an angry god before, and she hoped she never would again, for in that instant Lyritan’s eyes flared to a brilliant gold, which spread across his face, cracking under his skin like breaking ice. Caes lurched backwards, clenching her fists, her breath heaving in terror. Could he hurt her here? Could she stop him?
And then, as quickly as it arrived, it faded. “I’m sorry,” Lyritan said, panting. “I’m sorry. My anger is not at you. It’s that she—how easily she managed to make you doubt me.”
Caes slowly moved back to where she was sitting, forcing her breaths steady, hoping he couldn’t hear her racing heart. This god needed her alive too. And she couldn’t let him know how scared she was. Out of all of them, at least he hadn’t threatened her. He hadn’t tried to use her loves against her. Maybe he would be the best choice, when it came to it.
“You’d remember everything,” Lyritan said. “If I awakened your power, your memories would return. All of them. And the Soul Carvers? Their magic would no longer hurt you.”
“That’s it? I’d remember?” Caes frowned, ignoring for now the part about the Soul Carvers.
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t seem so bad,” she ventured. That couldn’t be it. Just having some extra memories, surely Karima wouldn’t just dangle that as a threat, would she? Of course, she would. All the gods would. Yet, that was not enough to make Lyritan so upset.
No, there was definitely more.
“You’re not telling me everything,” Caes said sternly. Accusatory. Bluffing.
The god flinched. Her guess was right.
“Tell me. Or I swear upon everything I am that I will not help you.”
Lyritan watched her. Moments passed. Caes took a breath. And another. And another. “You were not born human,” Lyritan finally said, just as Caes was about to press him again.
“No. I guessed that much.” Glowing eyes tended to do that.
“You were made.”
“Made? Like a house?” Caes squirmed.
“No.” Lyritan’s eyes flashed. “Nothing so mundane. You were made to hold a seed of Shirla’s power. To use it to grow your own, taking the bit of divinity she gave and turning it into something more until you could complement a god. And you did it well. She made you to help her.”
“To balance out the power she needed to keep her piece of the earth in line because she didn’t have Karima, her other half. Yes?”
“Yes. When you were made, she counted on that. Eventually, your power would’ve grown to the point Shirla could’ve existed without Karima’s existence. She wouldn’t need Karima. She’d have you.”
So, Caes was made to be a tool. Her arms fell to her sides. She never had a real mother or father, and the father she had loved was dead. No one loved her. No one, other than Alair…No one cared for her, other than the Soul Carvers who gave her their friendship and loyalty. The sensation of a great weight pressed against Caes’s chest. What she believed about herself—her very existence—was a lie.
And now she was forced between the goddess who made her, the goddess who wanted to use her, and the god who professed to love her.
Caes paused, stewing over Lyritan’s revelations about Karima and Shirla. How much of their fighting was because the two goddesses were heartbroken, yearning for the other? They hated each other, but often the greatest hate hid the deepest love. They’d never reconcile—Shirla and Karima would never find the piece of themselves that would make them whole. With or without Caes, they’d carry their sorrow forever.
“How old am I?” Caes asked. She looked at her hands. Her normal, young hands.
“As old as the Soul Carvers themselves.” He crossed his legs. “You don’t remember much. And after what Shirla did to you, your body has changed. You had to grow and age. And you’re…more mortal than you were.”
“Mortal?”
“Yes. You will grow, and probably someday age and die.”
“She made me…” Caes re-prompted.
“Yes.” Lyritan nodded. “You worked for her. You were, for all intents and purposes, her child. You loved her, and she loved you. But then you fell in love with me.”
“…What?”
Lyritan nodded, his eyes heavy. “The goddesses discovered what had happened—they found us together.” Unease flitted through Caes’s body. Together? They were truly together like that? “Shirla,” Lyritan continued, “learned that you had promised to help me become the deity of these lands in their place, and so be their downfall. Neither of the goddesses could accept this. For once, the two goddesses agreed—I needed to be removed.” Caes’s breath caught, rapt at the skeleton of a tale she suspected held so much.
“Desperate, I absorbed Hanith,” Lyritan said. “His power—hiding behind it—was the only way for me to survive. I fooled Karima. But Shirla, she knew. Oh, yes, she was already furious that I had lain with her sister and we had a son. Finding me with you, her precious creation, was the final slight she would take. She cursed Hanith—me—binding me.”
“Wait, Shirla didn’t bind you because of Hanith? That doesn’t make sense. The words of the curse—”
Lyritan leveled his gaze at her. “Say them.”
Caes shook. “You are not able to love someone enough to give them everything, and so there will be no one who will give everything for you…No…it cannot be.”
Lyritan nodded. “Those were Shirla’s words to me. Before she cursed us both for loving each other.”
“But Hanith. The legend—”
“Legends lie.”
The words of the curse. The words she fought so hard to find. They were about…her? And Lyritan? You are not able to love someone enough, so the words went. But Lyritan claimed to love her?
“Yes. Our love led to me being trapped in stone for a thousand years. And as for you,” Lyritan added, “she couldn’t destroy you. She was hurt and furious, yes, but she couldn’t harm you. Not permanently. No matter that by that point you had offered yourself to me.”
“Why not?”
“It is hard for the gods to make someone like you. Expending that much power again would probably destroy her, if not make her too weak to protect herself.” Lyritan held Caes’s gaze, and the all too familiar heat stirred in her once more. “And she needs you. She won’t be able to remove Karima without you.” Lyritan sighed. “So, since she was forced to keep you despite your betrayal, she did the next best thing—she removed your memory, made you a child—human—until it was time for you to wake.”
“I was always a child?”
“No. Only from the time she put you to rest, until you awoke once more.”
That was…why would Shirla abandon her if Shirla needed her? Why would Shirla make her go through the suffering in Ardinan and the challenges in Malithia? How did Shirla know when she needed to wake?
And then…Caes felt as if she consumed clay. She had spent an entire year reading about gods. And one thing in particular stood out. Something that needed a clear answer while she still had the attention of a god.
Caes cleared her throat. “You’ve said multiple times now that whatever power I have is divine. And you said that I’m more mortal now than I was before. Nothing good happens when a mortal body uses divine power.” Awful things happened, in fact. Being burned to a crisp. Or destroying everything around them. From what Caes heard about how the Soul Carvers were made, she was starting to suspect the agony from using their magic was because it was divine in origin, while their bodies were painfully mortal.
