Page 34 of Between Fear and Favor

I tilted my chin and lifted my hand for him to escort me onto the ballroom floor.

Chapter 18

EMMELINE

“Cethina has been spottedon her way back,” Malva warned, allowing a cold breeze into the healer’s tent as she pushed through the opening. “They’ve been tending to their wounded this whole time, but I’m sure when she gets here, they’ll be right back at it. Should I send for more hay?”

I blinked at the woman, unable to breathe. I knew Cethina would return from the rubble of the Aesiron and continue maiming and killing in the name of the Supreme, but Malva’s austere declaration had knocked the wind out of me. Suddenly, I grew warm, and there was a sharp pain in my chest. Placing my hand over my heart, I attempted to slow its racing beat.

I failed. I needed fresh air, so I walked past Malva, trying not to stumble.

I still had so much left to do to make things run more smoothly. There had been nothing but chaos when we heard of the Supreme’s movements, and I hadn’t had a chance to fix any of it. I’d done the best I could in a short amount of time. The main healing tent had been erected in a small park, and just outside it, there was a stone bench. I collapsed onto it, taking deep breaths. The sun was setting, and I blinked up at the slowly appearing stars. Fluffy clouds with hints of pink sky behind them teased me. It was a beautiful day, despite the chill, but there would be no enjoying it.

Though Rainier had ensured I managed a full night’s rest, my mind was still foggy. And now, as my heart slowed and my breathing calmed, my mind raced. I knew I couldn’t allow myself to reach that breaking point again, but what choice did I have? If I gave everything I had to the people of Astana, perhaps I would be forgiven for what I’d brought to them. Because if it weren’t for me and my identity, none of this would have happened.

A large part of me wanted to hand myself over just to end all the suffering. But, logically, I knew that my death wouldn’t stop any of it, and would likely only set into motion events that would lead to the future we’d all been trying to avoid.

In order to distract myself, I tallied the things Ihadbeen able to do while Cethina was gone. Despite how much I’d gotten done, I couldn’t help but note what was still left to do. I’d swept all of the hay, removing the blood and putrescence which had been allowed to fester beneath the cots. I’d tossed buckets of water on the ground, rinsing away what had seeped beneath the hay—and all I’d done was create mud. Gods, how I longed for a stone floor.

In addition to cleaning the floor, the cots had all been stripped of their bedding and I’d torn some of the linens that were worse for wear into new rags. Though there were a fair number of conduits with the ability to heal, mortal healers were necessary with the amount of injuries we’d been treating. And when mortal healing was involved—and even, sometimes, divine healing—there was a chance for infection. Cleanliness was paramount. I’d done what I could, but I still feared it wasn’t enough.

With cleaning came thinking. Throughout the day, I’d been unable to escape worrisome thoughts.

The idea that the Accursed was out there, unknown to me and plotting my demise, irritated me. It didn’t scare me, it didn’t confuse me; it vexed me. I didn’t understand how I could be identified as the Beloved, and yet my counterpart hadn’t been made known. It was likely the culprit was part of the advancing army—why else would they push to attack? Both the Supreme and Nereza could have been hiding their excess divinity, waiting until the perfect moment to strike.

And how did Declan tie in to all of it? We didn’t give his body a chance to molder in the ground before exhuming him from Rain’s makeshift grave. After confirming the pointed ears and sharp incisors, we’d burned his body. Why had he hidden what he was? Did he believe those in Folterra wouldn’t want a king with such potent elf’s blood? Or was it perhaps a connection to the Myriad instead that made him keep it secret?

The spire from the Myriad temple reached high, piercing the soft sky. Other than the temple in Lamera, there were no taller places of worship. Reaching for the eternal lands, for the gods, was the reason behind the impressive height, but now, it only served to irritate me. Drawing the prophecy to the forefront of my mind, I couldn’t help but think to decipher it.

There was one part of the prophecy specifically that I regularly pondered, and I thought perhaps I was giving it more weight than I ought to have. Part of me had wanted to take it very literally, but the nature of it likely meant the opposite. The Accursed and Beloved were said to be two sides of one coin, lives forever adjoined.

I had never met Nereza, had no connections with her that I knew of, and I certainly wouldn’t say our lives were joined together. As for the Supreme, I’d met him once as a child when Lucia had been at one of the temples he’d been visiting. I didn’t think we even interacted back then.

The one person who came to mind when I thought of that small part of the prophecy was my sister. She was the only person, aside from our parents, I had known for my entire life—until she died. But had I truly known her? She had been hiding an aspect of her divinity the entire time. She was blessed by both Aonara and Rhia; who knew what else she had been hiding.

But she was dead. Certainly the Accursed was alive and well, and ready to end my life. Lucia fit none of those requirements.

She’d orchestrated her own death in order to protect the people she loved. I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t angry over her decisions—not after what Dewalt had told me about their conversation when he’d nearly died.

Had I even known her at all?

I glared at the temple in the distance, frustrated by how much the Myriad had taken from us. If Lucia hadn’t been declared the Beloved, we could have been normal. We could have had a sibling relationship full of love and laughter and secrets. While we still had those things, it was different—stilted. Once I’d known she would leave Ravemont and wed Rain, I couldn’t help pulling away from her. Not only would she leave, but she would leave with the man I loved.

And from her point of view, she planned to die. Dewalt had told me how she’d been trying to protect me by pulling away. But because of her imposed distance, I’d missed out on the few years I’d had with her. I would rather have had a fulfilling and honest relationship with her, inseparable, and then lost her. As it was, I would never stop mourning her. But perhaps I would have been consumed by more happy memories than guilt.

But she was a child—barely older than Elora. How could I expect her to have understood that?

Suddenly, a memory of her stalking through the Ardian temple came to mind, tears streaming down her face and fists clenched as she walked right past me. We’d fought over it later, and that had been the moment we’d started drifting apart. Had she known then? Had she seen that she would have to die? The loud taps of her booted feet echoed in my mind, and I wished I would have reacted differently. She must have been so gods damn lonely and scared.

The Myriad had taken so much from me. From my sister, from my family, from our kingdoms. There was no going back to the time before, when the Myriad forced their way into positions of power. And the gods be damned if they thought the Myriad would continue to be in charge of the font.

Directing my fear and anxiety into something productive, I went inside to tell Malva of my plan, before gathering supplies and heading toward the temple in the distance.

Wipingthe sheen of sweat from my forehead, I took a moment to appreciate my handiwork. Gone were the chairs in the center of the temple, and in their stead were cots. I hadn’t bothered asking Rain if I could commandeer the temple, but it wasn’t in use anyway. Those who had proven their intentions—be it by listening to their hearts or Nor’s words to vouch for them—only used their quarters to sleep. I was torn over the fact they stopped speaking with those who sought guidance from the gods. In a time of war, it only made sense that our people would seek answers. But I refused to force any of the novices to serve in a way they did not want to.

Most of them were horrified by the Supreme’s attack, so they chose to tend to the wounded and dying instead. Still though, worshiping the gods and worshiping the Myriad were vastly different things, and I hated that our people might not have felt able to worship the gods in such a time of unrest.

But I was proud of what I’d done in the few hours since I heard of Cethina’s inevitable return. With winter’s unpredictably strong grip on Astana, despite spring’s encroaching presence, I feared what a cold front might do to those recovering here. And so, after glowering at the temple for a quarter hour, I had a stroke of genius.

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