7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I saw Caelus in passing over the next couple of weeks, but other than simple pleasantries, there was never enough time to ask him about that prophecy or why anyone would believe it.

Some part of me shouldn't have hoped for him to return to my study during my lessons, if only to chat for a moment or two. Partly because I had questions, but I also enjoyed his company. It helped that he was nice to look at too.

The alabaster statues of the gods stared down at me once again. I sat on a small ornate pillow in the Chamber of Gods, legs tucked underneath me, tingling with numbness. Moonlight poured in from the glass ceiling above, and the incense left the air muggy. The prophecy still sat in the back of my mind, and I hoped sitting among the statues might provide . . . something.

Nothing came.

"Silent meditation doesn't suit you."

I whirled around in the direction of the voice from where I knelt.

Clad in black, Caelus strolled toward me. He wore a deep crimson tunic tucked into his pants underneath his black coat. The color complemented him. His eyes met mine. I loathed how the moonlight caused his eyes to glitter like levin-streaked storm clouds, but I couldn't look away from them. "Sneaking up on people is frowned upon," I said.

"My apologies, Tempest. I thought you heard me."

I gave him a confused look, and he laughed.

"Calling me Tempest doesn't suit you either. Why the formality? No one else is here."

"True."

Not really an answer. I rolled my eyes and looked at the statue of Ahrea. Her expression always appeared sad to me. "The prophecy you had me read . . . why would people believe it hasn't come to pass?"

"There are whispers of it in Ryseer. Perhaps because it's the capital. Perhaps because King Olbecht isn't always known for his kindness."

I faced him. He was staring at Oerban, hands in his pockets. No one in Dusmir complained about the king. Were we that far removed, or had we simply forgotten because the Dawn Conclave didn't care for those under their charge?

His gaze fell to me again. "You seem shocked."

"I just didn't expect that."

He faced the gods again. "Everything here is . . . different from the royal city."

"Tell me about Ryseer."

He mused for a moment. "It's lovely. There's a cliff overlooking the sea and the city. Children play in the white sands along the coastline. The river that flows through it is the clearest blue." His eyes darkened when he turned to me. "Your left eye reminds me of it."

My face flushed, and I focused on Ahrea, hoping to hide it. I knew if I looked at him, he would be smiling. Deep down, I cursed myself for feeling flustered. Maybe it was because I wanted to stare at him more often than not. Except for when my face was likely red as a tomato.

"Any burning questions?" The amusement in his tone wasn't lost.

I was silent for a moment, hoping I looked thoughtful rather than flustered. "The study of runes. How's it going?"

"Well enough. Though I'm afraid my knowledge is more limited than your good friend hoped."

"Eira!" Klareth shouted.

Blood drained from my face. I knew that tone. Slowly, I stood and turned to face her. Her hair was spun tightly atop her head. Even from so far, I could see the fire in her eyes. Today was a special kind of livid—one she reserved for me.

Caelus's stare was a brand on the back of my neck.

Her eyes darted from me to Caelus, that rage burning hotter. "Leave us," she said, her fiery gaze never leaving his.

He started to walk past but swiveled on a heel and reached out, twirling a strand of my hair around one of his long, elegant fingers. "It's quite the honor, I hear, to even stand before you, Tempest." Knowing flashed through his storm-cloud eyes. But he couldn't know what she was about to do, could he? Then there was question and concern in those eyes—neither of which I could answer.

Klareth's hands clenched, and her jaw flexed. She was no longer hiding her emotions well.

There was no way out of this. "If you'd be so kind, we'd like some privacy," I said, voice barely a whisper.

His forehead pinched together, and my hair slipped from his fingers.

He stood there, eyes never leaving mine, as though he was still searching for something in them. Gods, I begged he would listen and leave. But if he didn't . . . I pushed away the thought.

I wasn't sure if he'd heard me, but he finally said, "Apologies." He pivoted, heading for the exit. From the door, he added, "I'll see you later."

Those four words. I knew he meant them. I watched his retreating back, my stomach knotting. Those words made some useless part of me hope he would stop what was to come.

But he disappeared through that doorway.

Klareth stalked forward, her shoes clicking along the polished mosaic floor. My palms were sweating as I waited for what she might do. Her fingers wrapped around my arm, her nails digging into the flesh, and she dragged me from the Chamber of Gods. I stumbled behind her, struggling to keep upright on my numb legs while Ahrea's sorrowful stare pierced my back.

Luck and freedom had never been my ally.

Klareth dragged me by the arm through the empty late-night halls of the temple toward the abandoned wing. I wasn't sure what had sent her into a rage. Alissa may have waited to tell her about the night she saw me. Or Klareth could have decided that it was the perfect time to punish me for what she perceived as misdeeds. Healing Marus's foot wouldn't have gone unnoticed by her, either, and I knew she would be livid once she learned of it. All mixed with my inability to speak with the gods was a recipe for her wrath.

Teeg called, "Eira! Come pla—" He cut himself off, and his eyes widened at the sight of Klareth yanking me along behind her. She pulled me past him, and his cheeks blanched.

"Your room. Now!" Klareth said to him.

I didn't see if Teeg listened or hear his retreating footsteps. I squeezed my eyes shut. Please listen.

We stopped inside an abandoned room on the opposite side of the temple away from the kids' dormitories. Beams along the ceiling had collapsed, and the scent of molded wood filled the air. She closed the door behind us, and my stomach knotted, a sour taste filling my mouth.

She headed for an old dresser next to another door, which looked ready to fall off its hinge. The clank of shackles sounded behind me. "What have you been up to, my dear Eira?" Klareth asked.

It wasn't the first time she'd brought me here, asked me what I'd been up to or what wrongdoings I needed to confess to.

"If you tell the truth and beg, perhaps I'll be generous."

My face flamed at the memories of the times I had apologized and pleaded for her not to place those rune-carved manacles around my wrists.

But I'd never confess to healing those who needed me.

When I didn't answer, she yanked my arms behind me and fastened the cold iron cuffs around my wrists. Cool sweat ran down my neck, but I didn't fight her. There was no point in it. She'd made sure the tempest within me was useless against her years ago, thanks to that fake tenebrae -bonding ritual. Had the Copper Jackals' enchanter known Klareth's intentions all those years ago, when I'd been too young to consent to it? Too young to see the malice tainting Klareth's soul?

I begged the gods who'd made me a Divine for a way out. The gods who gave me a gift that was impossible to control yet impossible to use to save myself because of that poor imitation of a tenebrae bond meant to protect me. Surely they didn't condone what was to come. Right?

"Tell me. What lies has that scholar's assistant been whispering to you?"

"Lies?" What was she talking about?

"After everything I've done for you, you worthless girl. Going out and attempting to play as if you're one of the gods and healing wounds." She pushed my hair over one shoulder, then ran her long, sharp nails down my neck. "Being late. Fraternizing with that man."

I jerked away from her touch involuntarily. "I haven't done anything," I lied.

Her nails pressed into my neck enough to sting but not enough to draw blood. The runes along the shackles activated, stirring the lightning within me. "I wish I didn't have to do this," she whispered.

The power coursing through me began to writhe. Even though I couldn't see the cuffs, I knew as each rune lit up. The storms within grew more restless and ready to escape with each one. But it wouldn't—couldn't.

"You'd do well to rethink keeping secrets from me."

Lightning crackled across my skin, burning but never marring. No, Klareth couldn't let that happen, or everyone would know. The runes redirected the esprit—letting it free, but not truly.

The arcs snaked up my arm to my neck and down my body. Everywhere burned and it only got hotter, until my insides were molten too. I screamed, the sound ripping through the back of my throat. My knees cracked against the rotting wood floor, and Klareth shoved a cloth in my mouth.

"Think before you're late or run off and heal someone again. Think before pretending you are like the gods." She left, not looking back.

Tears streaked my face, but not just from the pain. The lightning pulsed and throbbed within me. My body writhed helplessly.

Help . I wanted to scream it to anyone who might hear. But I couldn't. Eventually, darkness came.

I awoke briefly from unconsciousness, my mind no longer able to protect me from the boiling pain coursing through every inch of my body, unsure of how much time had passed.

From where I'd collapsed into myself on the floor, I opened my eyes and looked toward the exit. But my mind created the illusion that Caelus was there. His dark, tousled hair had fallen over his forehead, and one side of his full lips was tilted up. Concern quickly replaced that teasing expression. Seeing him caused my heart to race, and I clamped my eyes shut, not wanting to see something so untrue that it was a different kind of pain—the kind that twisted my heart and threatened to rip it out.

It was wishful and pathetic to want him to save me. Wishful to even think he might be able to. I'd lost my chance the moment he left. Yet some deep-seated part of me had wanted him to save me from everything.

But that wasn't the reality. Right now, he would be with Marus in the library. They would be reviewing some sort of research. Probably arguing if Marus's foot was still sore.

But that man. He had interrupted Klareth. Delayed the inevitable like some small gift. Maybe it was a gift—the best the gods could do, or maybe the best they would do.