He'd never tried, either. Nothing Liam did or said would ever matter. To the world, he would always be foul-blooded. Undesirable.
Everyone was born with magic in their blood. The Stormborn of Aenir commanded the skies, while the Iceborn of Muirashi called upon water in all its forms. To the north, Earthborn populated the plains of Terishal, masters of soil and the seeds it nurtured. Far to the northwest was Lavaire, home of the Fireborn and their heat-drenched jungles.
Solhearts, though, called upon sunlight. Radiance. They were our betters—the descendants of our departed god.
While a union between two lesser races would produce a half-blood, Solhearts could breed with anyone, and the child would be another Solheart. Proof enough to them that foul-bloods were a sin, and we were their lessers.
Liam would be okay, though. He had Father and me to protect him.
Maybe it was the cold or the unpleasant thoughts that kept me awake through the darkness.
Every hour passed beneath eternal night. The sun had not risen in the sky for thousands of years. Growing starlight and the appearance of the twin moons heralded morning's arrival, and they vanished into the firmament's black embrace come night.
Supposedly, an imitation of the ancient sun hung above the Solhearts’ city, where their Emperor ruled over people he’d never see. Not even Solhearts of lesser birth left their shiny city to mingle amongst us.
I fell into a troubled sleep and woke, half frozen to death. Dragging myself from my bedroll, I shook the ice from my cloak and mounted my elk to continue our slog through the snow.
The second day, the scenery shifted. Sparse trees thickened into woods, and I could see the silhouette of Tirnanog's great oak—so immense its shadow painted the moons black, though it was still leagues away.
I toyed with my mother's necklace, a silver jewel bearing the crest of that tree: Tirnanog's banner.
Galasvar appeared on the horizon in the evening. Enormous walls extended as far as the eye could see, ancient and imposing. A palpable shadow darkened the skies beyond, blotting out the stars and moons.
The Ceorthan Shadowlands: realm of dusk and sin.
The town around the fort was cold and unwelcoming: dark, cracked stone with little in the way of embellishments. A small garrison lived here to watch the walls, and everyone else tended the nearby farms.
In this unassuming place, I'd meet my first Paragon. Gnawing on my lip, I rode through the gates, watched by guards who clutched their weapons to their chests.
They looked terrified.
Inside the gates, the town seemed normal. People bustled from building to building, heavy winter cloaks trailing behind them.
Scanning the crowds for a man who'd appear larger than life, I rode toward the far wall—toward the barrier that divided what remained of the gods’ world, and the curse of darkness they’d laid upon us.
Liam rode alongside me. "Where do we find our man?"
"At the walls, I'd imagine."
"Should you go alone?"
I glanced over my brother, his dark skin and pale eyes. Would a Paragon be offended by the presence of a half-blood? "Pull your hood up, to be safe. Act like my guard."
"Of course, my lady," Liam said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
It was only when we reached the southern walls that I realized no men had walked the city streets. Soldiers swarmed the walls guarding us from the Shadowlands, patrolling, preparing, shoring up defenses.
Both Muirashi and Aenir deployed men to this fort. Tabards of deep blue and forest green hung over chainmail, blurring into a turquoise tapestry of war. Dismounting, I focused on a young man in green, with a longbow slung over his back—an Aenir man.
I caught his elbow as he passed. "Where's the Paragon?"
He turned to me, arms loaded with wooden stakes. "Up there." He nodded up. "But a lady shouldn't?—"
"King Ailithir sent me to deliver a message."
" . . . a message?" The guard echoed. Setting aside his palisade, he motioned for me to follow. "Come with me."
He turned stiffly on his heel and marched toward one of the towers. Glancing back at Liam, I hitched up my skirts as we ascended the rough stairs spiraling up to the walls.
