Calder was waiting for me next to the wagon, gently stroking Bane. I had barely made a move in their direction when the temple’s grand wooden doors swung open. The sweet sound of a hymn to the Light filled the air as Father Arallan emerged, followed by a procession of believers. In smaller temples like this, the local priest served all Ten equally. The colorful ribbon over his white robes, as wide as a man’s hand, proclaimed his allegiance to the forces of Order: gold for Light, blue for Water, red for Fire, silver for Air, and brown for Earth.
“In Order we find purpose. In purpose we find peace,” Father Arallan declared loudly, his rich baritone echoing across the square. I frowned as the prayer resounded around me, repeated by many voices.
Curse it. With all the excitement of Noctis’s stay on my farm, I had lost track of the exact dates. It must be one of those days when the farmer’s market coincided with a holy feast of Light—a day I usually avoided visiting Dalath. Now I noticed that the fountain in the square was adorned with colorful fabrics and flowers, and a quick calculation in my head confirmed that it was Talyrbai, marking the midpoint between the Spring Festival and Midsummer.
“May the Light protect us through our darkest nights.” The tall priest with his round, amenable face had barely finished his prayer, his spread hand raised to his forehead in the sign of the Ten, when an angry voice rang out next to me.
“What a load of dung! The Ten will not protect you. The bloodyAurea sat in their pretty palaces and did nothing while one of them destroyed half the world.”
I tensed up as Calder stepped in front of the procession, barring the way.
“Bloody fools you all are. Praying to those who don’t give a rat’s ass about your fate.”
I closed my eyes in frustration. If he didn’t stop causing turmoil, Portia and the other detractors in the Council of Elders would not let me hear the end of it.
Father Arallan raised his hands, trying to calm Calder down. “The ways of the gods are not always easy for us mortals to understand. Sometimes we are tested beyond what we think we can endure.”
Calder had lost his entire family to pillaging Rakash war bands, so I doubted that sentiment would placate him. I swiftly followed him through the crowd.
“No!” He broke free with a brash gesture. “I won’t be silenced. Just this morning Yarmin was nearly killed by the Cave Troll in the eastern forest. A Troll that was always harmless. Chaos is rising once more and your gods are doing nothing to stop it. You think your flower garlands will protect you?” He ripped off a string of bright azaleas, throwing it on the ground, the red petals looking ominously like splotches of blood. “The Rakash will only laugh when they cut you all to pieces.”
“You also know the Cave Troll is no longer a problem,” I said calmly, making Calder whirl around in surprise.
“Rada!”
“You can find that Troll close to the fork in the road leading to the Haythorne farm.” I kept my tone deliberately light, as if dealing with the threat had been no big deal. Drawing attention to myself like this was bad enough, and if I had seen any other way, I wouldhave avoided it. “It would be wise to send someone to take care of the remains, or they might lure in some predators,” I added, seeing that Commander Adesh had arrived with Ursa, the blonde Northerner half a head taller and a lot broader than the lean half-Djein.
“You killed it?” Ursa exclaimed, her blue eyes filling with awe.
“It had attacked Calder and Yarmin, leaving me no choice, but yes, I killed it.” I gave them a saucy smile and winked. “I still know how to use my spear.” When I had first come to Dalath, I had cultivated a reputation as a competent but wary soldier who had fought valiantly in the Sundering Wars, judging it better that people knew I could defend myself.
“Well, it seems the gods saw fit to send us aid, then, in the form of one of our own.”
Mayor Brim. The dark red jacket of his office had its golden buttons primly closed over his wide chest, his impressive black mustache quivering in slight agitation as he hastened to stand beside me. I had wondered where he was. He usually had a fine nose for trouble brewing in his village.
His smile at me was overly jovial, as was the arm he slung around my shoulder, but as long as it helped defuse the tension, I wouldn’t complain.
“The village is in your debt, Miss Rada,” he declared grandly, sweeping his other arm wide. Maker! I was definitely not in the mood for one of his long-winded speeches, even if I was the object of his praise.
“Only doing my duty as a citizen of this wonderful village,” I mumbled, trying to inconspicuously slink back to my wagon.
I had no luck. The mayor relentlessly herded me toward Father Arallan with an enthusiastic exclamation. “Nonsense! You are our heroine. Father Arallan, I think a prayer in thanks for our good fortune would be in order?”
In the end, I had to endure not one, but five prayers. Blessedlyr, I’d thought the days of keeping a smile frozen on my face as flowers rained down around me and burning incense made my head throb were long past me. The villagers mostly prayed to Aramaz these days, sometimes calling on Tanez. But then, worshipping the Ten was not truly an option any longer, was it?
After Father Arallan and his believers had finally moved on, Mayor Brim pulled me aside. “Would you have some time for me, Miss Rada? There is something I want to discuss with you.” His clear gray eyes darted to the alley next to the temple, leading down to the river. “Perhaps I can invite you to an early lunch in the tavern?”
“Sure,” I replied with a sincere smile. Despite his sometimes overly grand words, I liked Dalath’s mayor, knowing he had his people’s best interests in mind. “I will just secure the wagon and—”
When I looked toward my wagon, I saw Bane bolting off toward the temple. I cursed, excused myself to Mayor Brim, and hurried after my cat.
The grand wooden temple was still and empty as I followed Bane inside, multicolored lights streaming in through the stained-glass windows. The making of the world, the founding of Lyrheim, the creation of the Tree—I did not need to glance at the windows to know what they depicted.
Against my will, my eyes roamed over the last one next to the altar with its five-pointed star. The chaining of the Fallen One. The dark, terrible shade depicting Noctis bore no resemblance to him. My hands clenched into fists.
A familiar, deep timbre jolted me from my reverie. “I’ve never seen you in the temple before.”
Kyree’s feet barely made a sound on the smooth oak floor, the only sign of his approach the slight rustling of his wings. The tip ofhis left wing, forever crippled and melted into an awkward shape by dragon fire, whizzed over the floor, while the luscious, impossibly soft-looking dove-gray feathers of his right wing were tucked neatly against his back. I gave the dark-haired Aerieth an amused look. A contently purring Bane was snuggled in his muscular, dark brown arms, left bare by his black leather vest.
