Luna studied the drawing. “To imbue it with power, perhaps. In this case, with Aether.”
“So an Enshrined Monk, or someone who has access to their language, is helping build an Aetheric weapon.”
“You need to tell the Aetheric god it’s time to get interested in Carethia again,” Wren said. “Things are getting ugly here.”
“He is…not available.”
We both stared at her.
“Wait,” I said. “You can actually talk to the Aetheric god? Have conversations with a god?”
Luna nodded. “Guardians have that ability.”
Wren looked at me. “You didn’t know that?”
“Prayers are one thing. But humans don’t have direct conversations with Terran gods, at least as far as I know.” I shrugged. “It didn’t occur to me that Anima could talk to theirs.” Then I thought about what Luna had said. “You said Guardians have that ability. Not that you’ve actually talked to him.”
“I have not talked to him since he left Terra.”
Wren crossed her arms and frowned. “That was a decade ago. What does ‘not available’ mean?”
“We are not certain.”
Wren sighed wearily. “Fucking figures.”
“So the practitioner’s appearance isn’t a sign the Aetheric god has returned,” I said. “He just got lucky, absorbed enough remaining magic or something. What about the Terran gods? Can’t they help? Surely they’d be bothered by magic from another realm hurting their own.”
“The Terran gods have no power over the Aetheric.”
“They have power over sinkholes,” Wren muttered. “And lightning. Worth an ask.” But she didn’t sound confident that was true.
“Speaking of intervening,” I said, “we’re going to Vhrania tomorrow with the prince’s guards.”
“Why?” Luna asked.
“The assassin killed today carried a Vhranian blade and anarrow that was made to look Vhranian. Nik has friends over the border, and he wants to talk to them about that.”
“This isn’t a Vhranian problem,” Luna said. “It’s a Carethian one.”
“Probably. But I’m not turning down a chance to see Vhrania. And Wren will be with me.”
Luna gripped my hand. I couldn’t feel her fingers, only the heat in the air, like a flame had grabbed hold of me. “Don’t risk your life for the Lys’Careths.”
“I’m not the one in danger.”
“Perhaps not now,” she said. “But the Lys’Careths are not concerned with you, or Wren, or anyone else. They care about Carethia because it’s the source of their authority, their wealth, their power. And they will do whatever is necessary, however damaging, to maintain that authority.”
“You’re edging toward treason,” I said quietly.
“Can it be treason if it’s truth?” Her hands moved faster than usual, as if she was pouring frustration into the words. And I suspected there was more she hadn’t yet told us.
“What else?” I asked her.
“There’s something more,” Luna said. “A thread I cannot see.”
“Wren had the same feeling,” I said.
“I don’t like it,” Wren said.
