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Cassia caught a glimpse of her friend’s smile in the gloom as she retreated to her bedchamber. She closed the door firmly. “Dockk,Knight. We will find our way to House Kassandra.”
He perked up and followed her out into the courtyard, and she drew the curtains behind them before securing the glass door as well. She paused by the fountain and assessed the archways. With Hesperines always stepping her to and fro, she had lost track of which led where. On her walk with Kia and Nodora, however, that arch there had led them on foot out of the guest house. Cassia took a chance on it.
A gallery led her to a gate, the gate led her to another courtyard, and a nest of gargoyles watched her make her way out onto a lane that ran behind the guest houses. She thought about all the maps of Selas that had passed before her eyes during many circles with the Stand, and she got her bearings.
Cassia found her way out of the Docks District and onto the broad thoroughfares and snow-covered agoras of Selas. The first few streets she crossed were deserted. Everyone was at home, she thought, spending time with their Ritual parents. She had learned that the Vigil of the Gift was for meditating on the lessons of your Gifting and honoring those who guided you on the immortal path.
She might have had a Gifting. Friends and family might have showered her with welcome all through moon hours. Then, when veil hours descended, she might have made her journey into eternal night. In Lio’s arms.
Anger filled Cassia until she didn’t know what to do with it all, and her body shook. She halted, reaching out for the nearest support. Her hand closed over a lamppost that lit the corner of two lanes. Above her head, a stained glass lantern shone, bright and beautiful.
Cassia wanted to hurt someone. The person who had made it so she could not stay in Orthros.
But that person was her.
If she stood here a moment longer, the paralysis would catch her right here in the middle of Selas. She had to make it to Kassandra’s.
Kassandra might be the only person who could tell Cassia if she would ever make it back to Orthros.
By the time Cassia neared House Kassandra, she was running. Her lungs burned for air and her face with cold. The map in her head brought her to a short stone wall and a broad iron gate, which stood open.
She took that as an invitation and entered. Before her lay a path lined with knotty, twisted evergreens. She had never seen the hardy little trees before, but they looked like they had endured sixteen centuries of blizzards and lived to tell the tale. She drifted between them, catching her breath.
The gate behind her slipped out of sight sooner than she expected. She looked back, but all she saw was the ordered chaos of a garden.
Snow and shadow cloaked Kassandra’s grounds, but scents dry and sharp, spicy and green hinted to Cassia of the wonders she could not see. She followed one smell after another, wondering which would lead her to tonight’s fated encounter. A hint of roses made her detour along a side path.
Warm spell lights emerged from the night ahead and revealed a pavilion of red and purple silk. Cassia came to a halt under a tasseled awning. Fabric walls fluttered in the polar wind, but beneath the pavilion’s shelter, she felt only warmth. The fragrance of roses settled over her, heavy and sweet.
“Cassia! Come in,” came Kassandra’s voice.
Stained glass lanterns hung everywhere and sat on every surface, each one different from the last, filling the room with countless unique shades of light. Cassia trod across thick carpets and crept behind a silk curtain.
The oracle knelt at her magnificent loom. There was a silk box at her knees and a pile of yarns and threads scattered about it. Silk cushions surrounded a low table beside her, where a copper coffee service emanated warmth and rich aromas.
In a glass dish on the coffee warmer, rose oil quivered, golden in the spell-light, releasing curls of fragrance. Cassia stared at the oil, wanting to look away, unwilling to stop breathing its beautiful smell.
“In Orthros, even oil is made of roses.”
Cassia tore her gaze from the oil dish. Where was her courtesy? “Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”
“I’m so glad you’ve come. Make yourself comfortable.”
Cassia arranged herself on a cushion, which puffed more coffee and rose fragrance around her as she sank onto it. Knight went into a down-stay beside her before she asked.
Kassandra gave Cassia a little smile of anticipation and reached behind her. She pulled forward a large pack constructed of thick, sturdy tapestry woven in a botanical pattern. She set the bag before Cassia.
“For me?” Cassia asked.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
“You already gave me a welcome gift,” Cassia protested, although she would prefer to forget the historical Tenebran banner.
“As an oracle, I reserve the right to give gifts out of order. These are some presents for many occasions that have not yet come to pass.”
Cassia hesitated over the tapestry bag. Would something so beautiful hurt her if she opened it?
She had come here to face the truth. She unfastened the straps and opened the bag.
