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Smaller dwellings of the same stone dotted the ground around the column of clouds, little puffs of white that were nestled against pink and yellow violets and lavender moss that made it all look like we were looking down at a morning sunrise instead of up at it. As we approached, the priestesses who cared for and worshiped in the temple emerged from the small puffs of stone clouds like wisps of fog. Each one of the holy women wore billowing robes that flowed over their bodies in yards and folds of soft white fabric that nearly covered them completely. The large ruched hood that completed their uniform was pulled down low over their heads so that I could only see the tips of their fingers and the tiniest bit of their chin. The entire effect made them look as much like clouds as their temple.
Before they had all been excused, one of my tutors had told me that the Temple was supposed to look like the clouds above the garden that the Goddess cultivated in the afterlife, the red trees behind a symbol of the death we all must travel to reach such a holy place. Seeing it now, and not only in the crude drawings in my books, it certainly looked like that. Not only that, but it felt that way. It felt as though the world was suddenly made of calm and clouds.
As though everything in the world was as it should be.
As though I was as I should be.
Even the bone chattering cold seemed to wane, if only for a moment.
“It’s so beautiful,” I said, my hands flat against the window frame as I stared out of the back window in our carriage. Heat waved over my skin in a low rumble of soothing energy, calmer than anything I had felt before. The magic that had been so cold and elusive in me the last few days had been chased away. The warming waves grew the closer the carriage lumbered toward the temple before all of that glittering warmth centered to my wrist and the twisted braid of Fae hair there and vanished.
“Do you feel that?” I glanced to the bracelet, shivering against the cold that returned as quickly as it left.
A slight shifting of leathers and a rustle of fabric was the only response I received as we moved closer to the temple. His silence had been unwavering since my mother’s warning had been cut into my skin. My arm was now mostly healed, something I was sure had to do with how the Boy wrapped his bare hands around my forearm each day when he changed the bandages. I was sure it had something to do with Fae blood, but I had no way of asking. Not that he would answer, anyway. He didn’t whisper, didn’t click. He had even stopped nodding.
I tried to ignore the way my chest attempted to crack and break apart at the thought, at the way that feeling of blissful perfection wavered and the heartbreak I had been ignoring for days tried to creep in. Not just heartbreak. Loneliness. He was right there, yet somehow, I had never been more alone.
Never been so lost.
Shoving the thoughts and emotions as far away as I could, I pressed my forehead to the glass, watching the temple shift as the line of carriages curved around behind us to circle that calm little meadow. Horses galloped as the carriages took their place, revealing the massive gilded carriage that held my family at the end, and that frail figure that was stumbling behind it.
Aeinya.
Even from there I could tell that she was struggling to walk, her agony practically screaming. Her feet dragged, her head lulled, her body swayed from side to side as she fought to stay upright. The priestesses were already running for her, a few people from the pilgrimage of peasants that followed behind rushing forward to catch the future Queen.
The doors to Batian’s carriage before her didn’t so much as crack open as the priestesses ran after Aeinya.
“No!” I yelled and lunged for the door. Even though I knew I would never get there in time. At least I would try. It was more than Batian was doing, anyway. It was more than he had done this entire time.
I tried the door, but the lock didn’t budge even as I slammed against it, pain lancing up my arm. I screamed, the Boy pulling me from the door in a panic. He checked my arm, but I gazed out the back glass, watching as Aeinya crumpled.
They had locked us in, the same as they had for days. I didn’t know why right then was so much more painful than every other time in my life I had been locked away.
I was left to watch in horror through the fogged glass of our carriage as one of the men from the group of peasants who had followed us barely caught her. He was dressed as darkly as the Boy, his hair a shag of black tangled curls, his clothing torn and ebony cloak in tatters. He stood out like an inky smudge against the light, dust-coated clothing of the rest of the pilgrims he stood with.
Ripples of gasps hit the carriage as though it was a solid wave, the sound as firm of a pressure as the thunder of my heart in my chest. The priestesses rushed forward, grabbing Aeinya’s limp sagging body from the man who stood in horror as they carried her away. They all stood in differing states of shock, everyone clutching each other and crying. Still, the doors to that gilded carriage did not open.
My brother did not even peer out to check on the status of his bride.
It was hard not to let that boiling rage build. Where was the kind, caring man that Aeinya had told me about as we huddled under the carriage? Where was the thoughtful Prince that always went out of his way for others?
Where was my brother?
The questions burned and boiled, but I already knew the answer to all of them.
I couldn’t leave her alone, not like this.
I rattled the handle of the door again. I wasn’t going to ram it with my arm again, so I kicked at it with as much weight as I could muster. It didn’t budge, it didn’t even creak. There was only the dangerous chuckle from the other side that I instantly recognized. Silas.
The lock was the least of the problems. Of course I was being guarded.
“Let me out,” I hissed through the door with as much hatred as I could muster, shaking off the soft leather glove of the Boy as he tried to pull me away from the door. I pressed myself against it as though I could move through it, wishing I could call on that explosive fire. I tried to focus on it, on the heat, on moving it through my body, there was still only ice in my veins.
If I was going to reach her, I was going to have to find another way. I gave the door another shove, the answering sound like a dark wave as I kicked again before falling back on the seat. I was sure I looked a mess, but I didn’t care. I was still in better shape than Aeinya
“Aeinya?” I whispered, watching her in those priestesses’ arms. She lifted her head weakly, trying to wave to those who had gathered like the Queen she was about to become. At least she wasn’t dead, but that was a small blessing to what I had witnessed.
I stared at Aeinya, willing her to be well, until the hustling priestesses had taken her inside one of those domed houses. I would have tried the door again, I would have rushed to them, but it all would have been pointless. It all would have led to more problems.
