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“No. For all we know, she is intervening to prevent disaster!”
“Cassia, all will be well. I don’t need protection from your sister.”
“I’m very much afraid you might.”
Her anger might have hurt him and left him doubting her confidence in him, if not for this truth, which he sensed roaring up from deep within her. She was worried about him, again, after so many nights of fear and worry during their ordeals.
He slid his hands into her wet, tangled hair and kissed her again. Deep and hard, impressing upon her that he was here. They were safe. She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and kissed him back with ferocity.
Their Union carried his words into her thoughts. You seem ready for your second course, my Grace.
She bit his tongue.
I want to serve it in our bed with you under me this time, he said.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned. He levitated them out of the bath, shedding water onto the tiles and a few of the nearby plants.
She came up for air, but she gave a gasp of surprise, not lust. Her face was frozen in astonishment. He followed her gaze.
Where there had been a green seedling in a coconut fiber container, there was now a cluster of leaves and a single moonflower, unfurled and reaching toward the Goddess’s Eyes.
“It shouldn’t…” she whispered, as if she might frighten the miracle away. “It shouldn’t have bloomed for at least a month.”
With care, Lio levitated the plant into her hands. She cradled it close, its fresh, verdant scent filling the air.
“There is your evidence, Cassia. A greeting from your plant magic, letting you know you needn’t wait long.”
“I’d best study fast.”
39
Nights Until
NOTIAN WINTER SOLSTICE
17 Ourania, 1597 IS
A DISPLAY OF STRENGTH
Lio had never seen the Owia luxuries that now filled the rooftop pavilion where Kassandra awaited him and Solia. They joined his Ritual mother under a purple canopy, and Solia draped her cloak over her arm in the bespelled warmth. The table and chairs were wood, a rare sight in Orthros, but classic for the Owia. They might have been visiting the Empress’s palace, if not for the stunning view of Haima’s vibrant, snow-topped domes below. And the ancestral masks hanging from the pavilion poles. They all had fangs.
Kassandra’s gold bangles caught the spell light as she gestured for them to join her. Solia sat down across from her while Lio took a seat between them. Kassandra poured coffee from a solid gold pot and offered them a plate of delicacies that might have graced any table in the Imperial Capital.
Solia accepted the hospitality as if it were second nature. Lio surmised that her interactions with the Empress had not consisted solely of standing silently in a suit of armor. Solia might still be adjusting to the notion, but the Empress had forged her into as much a politician as a warrior.
Lio was more apprehensive than he had admitted to Cassia about what tasks a woman like Solia would set for him. Kassandra had most likely foreseen Solia’s demands and whether he would succeed at them. His Ritual mother wouldn’t let him go into this if he was doomed to fail. Would she?
She patted his hand. “It brings me joy to act as your matriarch.”
“You have my gratitude,” he said.
Her words took on a tone of ritual. “I, Elder Firstblood Kassandra, bring before you my son by Ritual: Deukalion, Firstgift Komnenos.”
“I, Solia, first of my dynasty, will hear his petition.”
So this was how Solia saw her clan. She invoked neither Lucis’s hated blood nor that of her mother, who had been too broken to care for her. He and Cassia must convince her to adopt the name Solia Komnena. Tonight, their entire family’s efforts at persuasion were in his hands.
A dreaded voice in the back of his mind warned him of the consequences of failure. If he could not sway Solia from her plan to build her dynasty, she would return to Tenebra. Cassia would once again be parted from her sister, except for rare visits when the new queen could escape her duties to visit Orthros.
