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And besides, Teigra was sure that Aurelius would be fine without her. After all, seduction was his specialty. And he hardly needed her for that.
The only thing that had tempted her to find some secret moment with Aurelius was the folio. But she’d instead resolved that she would wait until everything had calmed down. When the heat had died and the risk of Ms. Securia’s fury had lessened.
In a few days perhaps. Or maybe a week.
But she would do it. Definitely. He deserved to know. No matter the consequences.
Back in the courtyard, Jaspar had a skip in his step, which was quite a thing to see in a minotaur. “Are you excited to discover your new home?”
Five days ago, she might have mumbled a lie. And her heart did tremble at the sounds beyond the gates—laughter and hearty welcomes, passing workers singing, unbothered by who they disturbed. But after days locked away, her initial fear had dulled, replaced with an excitement to just get out there and see the city she’d be living in for the next five years.
And as painful as it was, if she was to avoid Aurelius, then she should commit to her new life. Do honor to her family name and make Ms. Securia confident in the loyalty of House Cosmin.
“I am,” she said at last. “But... you promise you’ll tell me if I do anything wrong? I don’t want to just be another southerner, stomping around and not respecting customs.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry. People here go on about that ‘southerner’ stuff, but it’s mostly just for fun.” He gestured toward the gate. “You don’t mind if we walk?”
“Not at all. I walked everywhere back home.”
“You’ll do well here then!” he said, clanking open the gates.
The street was chaos. They had to push past humming women carrying loaves of fragrant barley bread and circles of giggling children playing some game with ram knuckles.
Jaspar led her down one crammed and twisting street after another, before finally stopping at a strange building, marble-fronted and neatly columned, just like those back home, albeit worn to the color of a grandmother’s hair. It stuck out badly compared to the surrounding buildings, with their red bricks and abundance of flowers.
“This part’s a bit boring,” he said, unlocking the creaking doors. “But Ms. Securia was insistent.”
They entered the most curious place Teigra had ever seen. Inside was a concentrated mash-up of home. A statue of Mesti was up back, its bronze glinting in the morning light. However, that was the only part of the space that glinted—everywhere else was covered in a thick layer of dust.
The large floor was split into quarters: one appeared to be an oratory platform, elevated above the rest, just like the Forum; a second was set aside for stone carving and painting frescos, with little cups of color frozen in time; a third had racks of instruments—kitharas and lyres and aulos pipes, all stacked in forgotten silence; and the fourth housed the specialized equipment for glass-making and complex pottery, with strange bags of powders beside a kiln. Adding to the abandonment were the shelves and hives all along the walls, absolutely packed with codices and scrolls.
“What is this place?” she said, her voice echoing off the high ceiling.
“The Temple of Mesti in Ardora. Well, it used to be, before the royals shut it down,” said Jaspar, turning an unsympathetic look to the space. “Ghastly, isn’t it?”
Teigra wasn’t sure about that. It was certainly in disrepair, but she could almost hear the ghostly clacking of hammers and the sounds of great speeches. There was something comforting in that—like if she closed her eyes, she could almost be back on her dawn walks to the Alogo, before any of this had happened.
“It’s seen better days,” she said, attempting diplomacy. “But why is a temple to Mesti on its own? Where is their Pentheon?”
“Oh, whoops, did that not come up in the scrolls yet? Ardorans don’t really do that. Only Mestibians do. They believe in the Five up here, of course, but they don’t worship them as equals. The temples to the rest of the Five are scattered around the city. But, to be honest, the shrines to the lesser gods of Ardor get way more visitors.” Jaspar kicked a bit of marble along the floor. “If you ask me, this place is exactly what you said before: a bunch of southerners stomping around and not respecting customs. Trying to civilize the savages with our cultured arts.”
Teigra ran her eyes along the walls. There were some very old documents—some that might be the only copy outside of the Lapiso Library. “Shouldn’t these be returned for safekeeping?”
“The senate tried, but Ms. Securia won’t let them.”
“Really?’ said Teigra, struggling to imagine the high envoy disobeying the senate. “Why?”
“She says that just because Ardora has abandoned Mestibes, it doesn’t mean Mestibes should abandon Ardora. She thinks the royals will eventually let us open the place up again. And then all the people out there can learn our special little ways.”
Teigra raised her eyebrows, surprised that the nasty woman would think something so profound. “Is she the one who’s been polishing the statue?”
Jaspar nodded, leaning in with a sly smile. “She’s super religious. She even observes the Sable Moon Sanctum!”
“Really?” said Teigra, with a positive lift that seemed to surprise him.
The Sable Moon Sanctum was an ancient ceremony, where adherents would lock themselves away in prayer on the night of the sable moon, when the sky was darkest, and the power of the Five was weakest. It was popular in the ancient Mestibian mid polity of Zateniza, a monastery town that was home to an even greater collection of history and manuscripts and religious texts than the Lapiso Library, as well as what was rumoured to be the most vivid and beautiful starscape in all the land. People from across Dynosia made pilgrimages to it, and some liked the Sanctum ritual so much, they brought it back with them on their return. “But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“I suppose. But it’s a bit old-fashioned, don’t you think?”
