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Rudhira and Nike’s famous weapons levitated nearby in a bespelled display. His massive two-handed sword, Thorn, hovered next to the Chalice of Stars, her round shield. There were empty spaces for Apollon’s absent Hammer of the Sun and Prometheus’s long-lost twin swords, the Fangs. All had been crafted of the Hesperine alloy adamas, the hardest metal in the world.
Solia laid her sword across Mak’s palms. “Her nights in this armory will become part of her legend.”
Lyros bowed to Tuura. “Your staff will remain with you, of course, for a divining rod is a sacred ancestral artifact that should not be parted from its wielder.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, young man,” the mind healer replied.
While Solia and the Ashes turned their arsenals over to the Stewards, Rudhira clasped Lio’s wrist and pulled him in for a hard embrace. “The Maaqul, Lio? Bleeding thorns. My attempts to prevent my only Ritual son from going errant too young have utterly failed.”
“He’s my son,” Apollon said. “It was a losing battle.”
“Thank Hespera you two made it home safely.” Rudhira’s healing magic cocooned Cassia like a quiet night in the depth of winter. “I see the Empress’s physician has been very thorough, but even so, I would like you to come by the Healing Sanctuary.”
“Of course I will.” Cassia swallowed a chuckle. For a heroic and deadly warrior, her Ritual father could be such a mother hen. But she shouldn’t be surprised. He was a healer at heart.
He even gave in to Knight’s begging eyes and adoring tail-wagging and scratched the hound’s back. “I’m glad you’re safe, too, you smelly mongrel. I hope you bit off some of the jinn’s hands, and that they take even longer than Hesperine appendages to grow back.”
Once the weapons were stored, the Stewards escorted everyone up the spiral stairs, past clerestory windows to a gallery, where double doors opened onto the small island dedicated to the armory.
The frigid air of Orthros filled Cassia’s lungs, and magic soared into her. Goddess bless. She could feel the power here more clearly than ever, as abundant as the dark sea lapping at the shore, as bright as the two stars reflecting on the waves. The lights of Sisters’ Port twinkled across the water, where Haima rose atop the ice cliffs of Orthros Notou, an elaborate silhouette against the blue-black sky.
Uncle Argyros stood waiting by the pier. His silver-blond braid and silver silk formal robes wavered in the polar breeze, the only motion about the still immortal.
“Ah,” said Silvertongue in his legendary voice, “my beloved warriors and wayward diplomats.”
The dignified, intimidating Queens’ Master Ambassador pulled Lio and Cassia into his arms, betraying a secret only his family knew—he gave excellent hugs.
“I thought I’d lost you two.” His voice emanated mind magic, saying much more than simple words.
Lio held onto their mentor for a long moment. “It would take more than the Maaqul to put an end to your students, Uncle.”
Cassia lifted her medallion. “It was well worth crossing the desert to find this waiting for me on my return. I am honored to officially be your newest ambassador.”
Uncle Argyros shook his head. “Let us pray your lessons are more peaceful from now on.”
Cassia glanced at the stately banners decorating the pier and the boats moored there. “Are we expected at a welcoming ceremony?”
“Indeed,” Uncle Argyros replied, “the firstbloods have assembled to celebrate our returning diplomats and Stewards and to greet the presumptive monarch of Tenebra, along with her Imperial delegation. I’m sure they will enjoy themselves while we are all at House Komnena eating mince pies with the sucklings.”
Cassia’s eyes widened. “May we do that? Skip the ceremony and go home?”
“Yes.” Uncle Argyros’s eyes glinted with thelemancy that had overcome armies. “I am entitled to inconvenience important people.”
Lio put an arm around Cassia as their powerful immortal family stepped everyone into warmth and light.
They arrived in the Ritual hall of the Notian House Komnena. White rose petals were strewn across the vibrant tiles, and garlands of fat white blooms trailed up the ornate pillars. Cassia lifted her gaze to the dome, a honeycomb of geometric mosaics depicting Hespera’s Rose and the constellation of Anastasios, the founder of their bloodline.
He had been quite the rebel, helping discover the secret of immortality and defying the Mage Orders. She hoped Apollon’s Gifter was rejoicing from the heavens at the fiery new member of the family she and Lio had brought home.
Their Trial sisters flocked around them. If it was possible for a veil spell to scowl, Kia’s did. “I’m furious at both of you, and you can expect terrible lectures on how not to get lost in the Maaqul.”
“Oh, we were so worried.” Nodora breathed a great sigh of relief. “But lectures have to wait, Kia. Solia seems a little overwhelmed, doesn’t she?”
“Of course she is,” Kia muttered. “Too many stuffy elders. She needs a proper welcome from the Eighth Circle.”
Xandra gave Solia a little wave, flames dancing between her pale fingers. “Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you! There’s never anyone in Orthros to talk with about fire magic.”
Solia’s brows rose. “I wasn’t aware there are Hesperines with fire magic.”
