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Yes. I was on the right path. As Mizrah of Northgall, I would set it all right.
Chapter 23
UNA
We walkedthe garden path beyond the grove, the maragord trees no longer bearing fruit, the manicured evergreens that bordered the stone path the only color beyond the slate gray of the sky. Winter would be here soon. Hava chatted amiably beside me.
It had been a fortnight since the Rite of Servium and a fortnight since I’d seen Goll. My melancholy had turned to anger, but now, it simmered defiantly in the back of my mind. His rejection had stung—more than stung—yet I had decided to focus onmypurpose. Goll had told me countless times that the gods decreed I was to be his mizrah, but I believed the gods wanted more of me than that. I was certain.
And today, I was going to act on it.
I glanced back at Ferryn and Meck, both trailing us at a respectful distance as I marched away from the manicured garden.
“Where are you going?” asked Hava.
“I’ve never explored this way.” Actually, I’d been this way before—many, many years ago. I wanted to see the path with my own eyes.
“There is nothing but a statue of Gozriel over there.”
“Really?” That piqued my interest. “Show me, Hava.”
“It is quite pretty, I suppose,” she informed me, walking a little ahead and following the narrow stone path to the right, which then curved wide around the back of the castle.
“Gozriel the Watcher. So the wraith fae revere him?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. He is Vix’s helper. Well, to some.” She laughed as we rounded to an open courtyard, not too dissimilar from the one that had held the statue of Mizrah. “To others, he’s a mischief-maker.”
Upon an iron pedestal stood a bronze statue of Gozriel, the long exposure to the elements having added a layer of patina green. He stood on one leg, his leg muscles bunched, his other bent as if he were running to take flight. His wings were that of the raven that he transformed into when he roamed the world, doing Vix’s bidding and guarding his realm. He had two horns and wore a fierce expression. He was eternally frozen in some intense and urgent errand for his master.
My gaze lingered on his wings, envy piercing me as it always did when I thought of my own that were of no use. Across his bare chest, he bore a string of engraved demon runes I didn’t know.
“Tell me what those mean, Hava.” I pointed to the statue’s chest, the last rune jolting my heart into a gallop. It was similar to mine but not exactly the same. Mine had a curling tail at the end.
“Let’s see now.” She stepped closer.“Guardian of the dark fae. Watcher for the enemy.And the sign that looks like a raven’s wing meansbringer of bones.”
When she came to the last rune, she glanced back at me, a look of recognition shining in her red eyes. I shook my head gently, not wanting her to mention in front of Meck and Ferryn the mark I now wore on both wrists. I tugged on my long sleeves nervously, making sure they were hidden. She seemed to understand, turning her gaze back to the statue.
“I believe the last one meanskeeper ofor maybepossessor of the gods’ world.Hmm. That doesn’t make sense. I’m not sure what that last part means. My knowledge of this older demon sign is not the best.” She gave me a sad shrug. We’d already discussed the sign on my wrists, which she couldn’t decipher.
Meck and Ferryn had rounded behind us, standing between us and the forest of esher trees whose blue leaves were turning gray and beginning to fall. A soft wind gusted through the trees, slender gray leaves pinwheeling down and sweeping across the stone surrounding the statue of Gozriel.
Meck stepped closer first. Having apparently heard Hava, he answered, “It meansprotector of the gods’ heart and home.That last sign means bothheartandhome.”
“What doesbringer of bonesmean? He brings death? That’s not a great protector,” I said lightly.
Meck laughed, his yellow eyes darker under the gray sky. “No, not death. Kind of the opposite actually. Gozriel was the first who Vix bestowed his gift of neklia upon.”
I glanced at Min, who had already sidled closer to comfort me.
“Neklia,” added Ferryn, stepping forward next to his brother, “is the gift of raising the dead. Vix’s home in the earth gave him a distinct connection with the dead.”
“I know what neklia is and what it can create.” I shivered, remembering the clawing, snarling creatures. “You’re talking about the wights.”
Min took my hand in both of hers and squeezed for she knew my petrifying fear of them. I held onto her.
“Yes,” Ferryn confirmed. “Legend says Vix heard their souls cross over into the land of the dead, but sometimes their flesh wasn’t ready to leave. So he gave the flesh and bones purpose.”
“To kill innocent people?” I asked accusingly, for that was what King Xakiel had used his army for.
