To burn someone’s name in the sand was to call for their death. She had seen the Arohassin do it before to defectors. They never lived for long.
“Having Yassen Knight in Ravence will attract their attention,” she said.
“Yassen and Samson both know more about the Arohassin than we do,” Leo replied.
“But, Father, it’shim. He’s the man who assassinated the Cyleon ambassador and General Mandar.”
“I know,” Leo said. “But Samson is offering Yassen and his intel as proof that he is committed to joining Ravence. They both are.”
The king stood and bowed to the Eternal Fire. In the wavering shadows, he looked more than a man, close to a god.
His eyes met Elena’s, and something dark shone in their depths. “And if they are lying, we’ll watch them burn.”
CHAPTER 5
LEO
The Prophet raised her eyes to the heavens and said today justice would burn the land and cleanse it of its sins. But she does not know what it means to burn. The pain of it. The sorrow of it.
—from the diaries of Priestess Nomu of the Fire Order
Leo watched the Eternal Fire roll back into itself, satiated. The Ashanta ceremony had calmed it for now.
Elena had left with a clouded expression, leaving him alone in the Seat. He had known, of course, that she wouldn’t like Yassen Knight being a part of her guard, but Leo wanted that bastard close. The assassin wouldn’t dare make a false move with so many eyes on him. And Leo would enjoy watching him sweat.
He looked up at the great statue of the Phoenix. The golden bird stretched over the Eternal Fire, Her wings curving around the room. Rubies, bigger than Leo’s hands, adorned her eyes and reflected the dancing fire beneath. The first followers of the Fire Order had carved the ancient language of Herra into the temple wall. Though Leo could not read the writing, he knew it told the story about a vengeful god and an all-powerful Prophet who could make the world bend. One who could raise fire from nothing.
Leo had once believed he would be the Prophet. Any young Ravani brought up on tales of the beast of fire thought he was the one to ride it. But then he had learned how to sit in the flames. Learned how to respect fire and withstand its heat long enough to give the country a show. He had come to know the truth.
There was nothing special about fire. It burned and raged. Demanded sacrifice, worship. It had no need for a Prophet.
His dream had crumbled to ash, hardening him into a cold, steady king who knew how to inspire both fear and respect. Fire had taught him one thing—the power of myth. Give the people something to believe in. Make it strong enough, fearsome enough, and they would all bow.
The king turned at the sound of stone scraping. The high priestess emerged from the chamber below. She had taken off her golden ceremonial garb and was dressed in a plain red robe with an orange shawl to cover her hair.
“Your Majesty.”
“Saayna,” he said and then, taking in the look on her face, “What is it?”
“There is something you need to see.”
They descended into the chamber, the heat gradually seeping away as the cool damp of the mountain wrapped around them. A vast network of tunnels spidered beneath the temple. Here, the priests slept and worked, emerging only to tend to the Eternal Fire and the temple diyas. The irony of the priests of the Fire Order living in constant shadow had always amused Leo.
He pushed his hair back, careful not to touch the tilak, the Phoenix’s blessing. It was nothing more than lines of vermilion, but he had to keep up appearances. The Fire Order was necessary to his reign. A Ravani king and queen could only rule after receiving blessings from the high priestess and the Eternal Fire. Throughout the suns, he had made a point of increasing the temple’s budget and encouraged citizens to give hearty contributions. Jangir and the gold caps always rallied sizable crowds for holy events. Leo gave the order their worshippers, and they in turn gave him access to the heavens.
Small floating lanterns shaped like orbs lit the underground chamber. Leo and Saayna followed it to the end, took a turn, and then emerged into a larger room. The roof was not made of stone like the rest of the tunnels; instead, banyan roots and moss intertwined to create a living ceiling through which pale sunlight filtered in. Herbs hung around the wall, filling the room with the smell of turmeric and dry pine. A young priest lay in a cot on his stomach, covered by a thin blanket. A small priestess stood immediately as they entered.
“Your Majesty,” she muttered. A star-shaped birthmark on her cheek collapsed and expanded with the movement of her lips.
“Leave us,” Saayna commanded.
When the priestess scurried away, Leo approached the young man. His face was grey and slack. A slick sheen of sweat covered his body.
“What’s wrong with the boy?” he asked.
“Yesterday, the Eternal Fire burned him across the back. It will take him weeks to recover,” the high priestess said.
The Eternal Fire often lashed out. The day Aahnah died, it had leapt from the pit, burning his foot. He still had a scar that roped around his heel like a serpent. But Leo had learned how to control the flames. The Phoenix and Her fire commanded respect, like any god. Give that, and it would stay at bay.
