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“Come in,” I call.
The door swings open to reveal a maid. She’s young, perhaps not even sixteen, and she doesn’t dare to step foot inside the room. Her shoulders tremble. Is her fear for the Void Prince or for me as well?
“T-the First Disciple has requested to see you,” she squeaks, keeping her head down and not looking either of us in the eye. “Both of you.”
nineteen
WhenwereachTaria’schambers, the maid wastes no time in knocking on the ornate, white door. “First Disciple,” she calls. “I have brought the two guests, as requested.”
Zephyr narrows his eyes at her, but she doesn’t correct herself.
The door opens, revealing Caya’s scarred cheek. Her dark eyes flicker across us all. “Good. You may leave.”
The maid doesn’t need telling twice. She flees down the corridor as quickly as her legs can carry her. Not once does she glance back over her shoulder.
Caya opens the door wider for us. “You can come in.” She turns to Natharius, her eyes narrowing. “But threaten the future Grand Priestess again, Void Prince, and I will give you a taste of my blade.” Her hand shifts to the hilt of her sword, her fingers dancing around it in anticipation.
Natharius’s lips twist into a menacing snarl. “I’d like to see you try, mortal.”
Caya’s hand tightens around her sword, her shoulders taut with tension. Before either of them can threaten each other again, I step between them.
“He’s under my control,” I say to Caya, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.
The warrior meets my gaze with a stern expression and, after scrutinizing me for a long moment, offers a single nod. She whirls around and strides through the room.
“One threat,” I hiss to Natharius, “and I’ll have you silenced like before.”
Natharius shoots me an icy stare in return. I doubt the Prince of Pride enjoys being silenced by a mere mortal.
I follow Caya into the room and find Taria perching on a golden chaise. She sits there cross-legged, her hands resting on her knees and palms facing the ceiling. An aura of golden light surrounds her, and her chest rises and falls to a slow, steady rhythm as she meditates.
Juron stands behind the priestess, his gaze never leaving her. Not even when the three of us approach. I cast my gaze around the room, my brows raising at the lavish decorations. The rectangular rug at the center is a finely embroidered tapestry of the sun, and the white tiles across the floor are so polished they glitter like crystals.
We stop before the chaise, and Taria’s eyes flash open. Despite having been deep in meditation, the priestess’s senses appear sharp. Her lips pull upward into a light smile as her gaze falls on me.
“It is good to see you again, Reyna,” Taria says, her voice exuding warmth. “Please, take a seat.” She gestures at the cushioned chairs across from her.
“Thank you,” I reply, sitting down. Zephyr swoops down and perches on my shoulder. Though there’s an empty chair beside me, Natharius doesn’t sit. His body stiffens with tension, as if being so close to the priestess causes him great discomfort. As Taria’s golden eyes drift over him, she does not display the same uneasiness as he does. I wonder whether she will again urge the demon to sit, but she doesn’t.
“Back in the city square today,” I say after a moment, when the priestess remains silent, “you mentioned Imyria’s fate. That both I and Natharius play an instrumental part in it.”
Taria gives a single, swift nod. “While you both do, your part to play is far greater, Reyna. Imyria’s fate revolves around you. Along with another.”
“Arluin?” My voice is but a breath as I say the name of the man I hate most in this world. The man who once held my heart.
“Indeed. Your destiny, and Arluin’s destiny, are both connected by the threads of fate to each other and to Imyria. If you are to die, the hope of Imyria’s survival will die with you. If Arluin Harstall dies, then Imyria will be protected from the threat he poses. In short, everything rests on you. And Arluin, too.”
With Taria’s words comes a heavy burden that I do not know how to bear. Already I can feel its weight on my shoulders, threatening to crush me. “Why me?” I choke, not liking how small my voice comes out.
“From the moment you became an integral part of the necromancer’s life, you sealed this path for yourself,” Taria replies.
“You mean I chose this for myself by becoming close to him?”
“Indeed.”
“Would . . . would everything still have happened like this?”
“Are you asking whether Nolderan would have fallen if you did not know Arluin?”
