2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

T ryssa's room was the last on the left in the girls' dormitory in the west wing of the temple. I passed doors decorated in paint and wreaths of flowers, stopping in front of her plain wooden one. She'd never answer when I'd ask if leaving it bare was intentional. Part of me guessed she didn't want to stay.

I tapped my knuckles against the door.

No answer.

"I know you're in there," I cooed, knocking again. "I'm sure Klareth has already given you a mouthful."

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. Big brown eyes peered up at me through the small crack. Strands of thick, dark curls framed her heart-shaped face.

Tryssa glared at me. "She always sends you."

"If you don't want to see me, you shouldn't get into trouble." I smiled. "Can I come in?"

She rolled her eyes and pulled the door open the rest of the way. "As if I have a choice." She flopped onto the bed face-first.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

Her faintly lit room had only what she absolutely needed. Tomes on history and the gods lined a single shelf on the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. The acolytes took the orphans living in the temple out to buy anything they wanted. But whatever Tryssa bought wasn't in this room.

"You should decorate more," I said.

She ignored me and asked, voice muffled by pillows, "What's the speech this time?"

I leaned against her small desk near the window, careful not to disturb the neat stack of papers. "Klareth told me about the bathing oil. The girl's hair will grow back, but I imagine you had a reason for what you did?"

She pushed herself up and pulled her knees to her chest. "Emi is a bully. She thinks she's better than everyone. She learns what happened to the other girls' parents. Uses it against them so she can take their stuff."

"And none of the acolytes step in?"

She shook her head, squeezing her legs.

My blood sparked, the tempest rising to the surface, and I gripped the desk to keep my hands steady. Why were they allowing that to continue? I closed my eyes.

Breathe. In. Out. In front of Tryssa is the last place to lose control.

As Divine, I should've had final say on matters at the temple and should've had authority to punish Emi. But Klareth bonded herself to me with an imitation of the tenebrae bond—a bond meant to make her my protector. All it did was make it so I couldn't harm her with the lightning coursing through me and allowed her to have free rein over the temple of Ahrea.

I may have never wanted the responsibility of the temple, but with the choice removed, I played peacekeeper as often as I could, even if it meant suffering the consequences.

I opened my eyes and pushed away from the desk and approached Tryssa's bed. Kneeling, I said, "I know you're trying to help, but you can't keep getting into trouble. There's only so much I can do to keep Klareth . . ." I squeezed her heavy gray blanket. "Keep her content."

Tryssa scoffed and stared out her window. "The other girls are scared of you," she said, changing the subject. "I tell them they shouldn't be. That you're nice, but . . ."

I smiled. "Don't concern yourself with that." I stood and started for the door. "I'll see what I can do, but keep your head down and stay out of trouble. Let me or Marus know if something is going on. Better to let us deal with it and Klareth."

The sound of rustling blankets sounded behind me. "Eira . . ."

I turned to face her.

She was lying on her side now, facing me. "We've all heard the thunder. Seen the lightning on a clear day. It's why the others are scared of you. How come you're never like that when you're here?"

My stomach turned, and I took a shaky breath. "Get some sleep," I said, then stepped out into the empty hall, closing the door behind me.

I sucked in a deep breath of the cool, quiet air and leaned against Tryssa's door. Holding my hands palm up, I discharged a fraction of lightning. Tendrils of the blue-white energy danced between my fingers.

The Tempest—my Divine title and my Divine gift. The gods' chosen for their power. Lightning festered within me, longing for release. Even when I was calm, it itched to be free. A constant check and balance, trying to stay within the storm's eye. One wrong lapse of emotion—one too-strong flare of frustration or anger—and I would slip out of the eye and into chaos.

I drew in the tendrils of lightning, the sparks dissipating, and started for the library.

The tempest writhed beneath the surface, prodding for an escape, the small discharge not enough to sate it. "All the power of a storm at my fingertips and nothing to show for it," I muttered. Just calming techniques and hours wasted meditating.

I took a detour through the serene temple garden—the perfect place to hide, making it one of my favorite places. It hid an entrance to the hall that led past the kitchen and to the library. The everflame lamps in the kitchen were doused, so I ducked inside to grab a bottle of wine—the one other thing that helped keep the tempest in check. Though any sort of alcohol would've done the trick.

Alcohol was the closest thing to muffling the storm I'd found. I grabbed a bottle of red wine and two wineglasses, and continued through the empty halls.

Using my hip, I pushed through the gilded double doors of the library emblazoned with symbols representing each god and goddess. The scent of books and parchment filled the air as I ambled through the rows of tall shelves toward the nearly hidden study Marus claimed as his office.

The temple of Ahrea's library was his little corner of the world. He adored language and knowledge, though his age was often a point of criticism from the grumpy old scholars long past their prime.

I didn't bother knocking before entering the secluded study in the far back of the library. Marus sat on a worn couch that had seen better days, feet propped up on the rectangle cedar table in front of him. He'd tied back his long blond hair and had abandoned his coat on the back of the couch, leaving him in a patterned brown waistcoat and with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows.

"Klareth would be fuming if she knew you had your feet on the table," I said, placing the wine bottle and two glasses between the scattered books. "And with your shoes on? She might finally blow a vessel."

He peered at me past his square glasses and smiled. "Sounds like I may do everyone a favor if she found out."

I laughed. "Maybe so."

He closed his book, placing it on the cushion next to him, and pushed his glasses up the long bridge of his nose. With his high cheekbones and narrow face, he could have almost passed for one of the fey. His russet-colored eyes drifted to the bottle. "I was wondering when you'd get here." He glanced at the clock, which read one in the morning. "Klareth have you meditating again?"

I plopped down in the armchair that matched the couch. "Something like that."

He stood, grabbing the bottle of wine to open it. "Do tell."

"She interrupted. Apparently, Tryssa got her hands on enchanted bath oil. Emi doesn't have hair anymore. I'm sure you can imagine Klareth's fury."

Marus laughed, warm and infectious. The sound brought a smile to my face. "I can't believe she'd do that." He removed the cork from the bottle. "Wait. Actually, I can. But what did Tryssa have to say?" he asked.

"Emi is terrible."

He raised a brow.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Emi may be blackmailing the other girls."

He poured a healthy amount of wine into both glasses and handed me one. "Quite the accusation."

I took the glass and a long drink, letting the acidic sweetness coat my mouth and settle deep in my stomach. "Which is why I have another reason for my visit."

"You want me to monitor her?"

I nodded, biting the corner of my lip.

"That's a demure look, even for you."

"I'm sor—"

"We both know how everyone acts around you, and far be it from me to help a friend in need."

I lowered my wineglass and stared into the crimson liquid. Marus often made it easy to forget that I was a Divine around him—that I was the Tempest. Yet he'd also been the one to notice the weather anomalies caused by the outbursts of my power and had tracked me down in the dwarven city of Tiruhm.

I raised the glass, taking a long swallow of wine. "If there's ever anything I can do for you, tell me."

"Helping me research the Divine and their gifts is more than enough. Watching out for some mishap between the kids is the least I can do."

I smiled and tilted my glass to his, and they clinked together. "As promised." Not that I have much to offer .

Using my gift was too dangerous around him. It'd be too easy to accidentally kill him if I wasn't careful. My account of my abilities and the occasional observation was all he had to go off of. But he'd promised he'd use his findings to help future Divine, so I did what I could.

Quick, heavy footsteps sounded in the library, and Marus shot me a questioning look.

I shook my head. It was too late for anyone to be visiting aside from Klareth, but the footsteps didn't match the click of her heels. Roan?

I shot up, placing my glass down without a sound. Him finding me in the library would be just as bad as Klareth. I cracked open the door of the study but didn't spot anyone. Tiptoeing, I slipped out and hid behind a bookshelf in the shadows.

The footsteps grew closer, and I peeked out.

Malik strode toward the study, his usual combat leathers replaced with a fine tunic of green and gold. The sword at his hip remained, and he'd tucked his loose pants into knee-high boots that likely concealed more weapons. Beside him, Selena looked almost out of place with her soft face and dark, tight curls.

My heart raced, and I stepped out into the open. Malik only visited the temple for one reason.

The hard lines of Malik's face softened, his green eyes somber. Someone had to be injured.

"Where are they?" I asked.

Marus stepped up beside me, wine still in hand. His eyes narrowed at Malik.

"The guildhall," Malik said.

I nodded, already heading for the library's exit, not caring about the possibility of Klareth's punishment if she found out that I was gone or using the only good that came from the lightning I wielded—the ability to heal.