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“I’m sure this is what Nike would want,” Lio said. “She wouldn’t want you to spend time looking for her when Alkaios is in danger.”
The prince nodded. “Cassia, I must ask you to tell Kalos everything you can about when you met Alkaios, Nephalea, and Iskhyra at Castra Roborra. I know how demanding it is for you to speak about that night, however—”
“Their lives may depend on it.” Cassia turned to Kalos. “I will spare no detail, if it will help you find them. But that was over fourteen years ago.”
“So recently?” Kalos asked. “That’s good news. Did they use much magic?”
Lio gave Cassia another reassuring touch on her back. “Iskhyra performed the Mercy for Cassia’s sister.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I carry your grief in my veins.” He shifted on his feet, an unusually awkward gesture for a Hesperine. “The Mercy is a dramatic act of blood magic. I could ask for no stronger evidence of their passage.”
“Solia’s memory lives on,” said Lio, “and can now help guide us to those who carry it.”
Cassia tucked Alkaios’s hand and the pendant he held under the bedclothes. “I hope the way they rescued me will now help us rescue them.”
12
Nights Until
WINTER SOLSTICE
OPENING THE CIRCLE
Upon escorting the Tenebranembassy into the amphitheater, Lio discovered it was possible to feel more trepidation than he had when proposing the Summit to the Firstblood Circle. The last time he had spoken before the firstbloods of every family in Orthros, he had experienced a brush with mortality. This time, the lives of countless mortals and Hesperines could depend on the Circle’s negotiations with the Tenebran embassy.
But tonight he was free of the Craving. There was no vertigo to trip him. No pain to halt his thoughts and rob him of his words. No danger of collapsing at the podium from life-threatening withdrawal from Cassia’s blood. Sustaining power coursed through him, feeding his determination to bring all his best abilities to bear, to bring his best efforts to fruition tonight. Thank the Goddess he did not strive alone.
His greatest ally was in his very veins and at his side. Cassia stood and stared at the amphitheater spread out before them and the crowd of ancient power personified. A thrill rose in her aura, stronger than her anxiety. She would soon experience for herself how differently Orthros was governed than Tenebra. She would not kneel, voiceless, before a king. Here, she would stand before the Queens and be heard.
Whatever happened, neither he nor Cassia would end this night on their knees.
Lio felt as if the entire Blood Union swelled within his chest. Whenever he was in the Firstblood Circle, his own people always inspired awe in him, but it meant more when his Grace beheld it for the first time. And when Orthros’s enemies must behold as well.
The Dexion was actually silent for several moments before he found his voice. “I see Hespera’s temples loom large in Orthros’s memory. But then, memories are all that’s left of them.”
“Her Great Temples are alive and well.” Lio spoke the undeniable truth the mage must see.
He followed the Dexion’s gaze down to the Firstblood Rose emblazoned on the floor of the amphitheater. The vast marble rendition of Hespera’s Rose pointed its thorns, the arrows of his people’s compass, toward the statues that bordered it.
“The first Hesperines keep vigil yet,” Lio said. “My father’s memorial sculpture of Ritual Firstblood Anastasios, his Gifter, stands before the seats of our bloodline and our Ritual tributaries, so we may always honor our origins at Hagia Boreia, the Great Temple of Hespera in the North, where Anastasios was Prismos. You see the statues of Ritual Firstbloods Daedala and Thelxinos before the seats of Blood Timarete and Blood Kitharos, heirs of Hagia Zephyra, Great Temple of the West. And there are the memorials to Ritual Firstbloods Eidon and Ourania in front of Blood Argyros and Blood Hypatia, who hail from Hagia Anatela, the Great Temple of the East.”
Tychon looked greener than usual, and Lio knew it was not only the toll of being his master’s channel. Eudias’s teeth were actually chattering from the force of the Firstblood Circle’s magic. The apprentice could not blame his distress on the cold. Geomagical warmth drifted up from the stones beneath their feet. Tonight a ward shielded the entire amphitheater from the elements for the mortals’ sakes—and closed them in with the most powerful blood mages in the world.
Lio looked at the Dexion. “There are more Hesperines than statues.”
Chrysanthos would not look at him, only at the two southerly memorials. “The Prismos and Prisma of Hagia Notia in Corona have naught but a wall behind them.”
“A wall inscribed with Ereba’s name. She did not survive to become an elder firstblood of Orthros and carry on Ritual Firstblood Eukairia’s Gift. The only living mage of that temple failed to honor Ritual Firstblood Khariton’s legacy and is unworthy to have his name spoken within the Circle.”
“No wonder you have shoved the statues of Khariton and Eukairia aside.”
“The better to devote the southern section entirely to Elder Firstblood Kassandra and her many Ritual tributaries.”
“A prescient reminder of your Imperial allies to the south,” Chrysanthos commented, as if upon a move at the game board.
Indeed, the time for subtle moves was past, and they both knew it. Tonight, they would see each other closing in for the win.
The Dexion had best remember the Queens were the most powerful movers on the board.
