Page 44 of Beyond the Shadowed Earth

The rain slacked off as the beast lumbered back toward the city. Ileem wrapped his arms around Eda’s middle and pulled her tight against him. He kissed her ear, her neck, her jaw, and heat shivered through her.

“You’re mine, my darling,” she whispered.

He laughed into her hair. “As you are mine.”

The feasting lasted until evening, when the sun sank away westward and stars awoke once more in the dark. Ileem escorted Eda to the ballroom, hand locked tight in hers, and she marveled anew that he was herhusband,that she never again had to face the world or her Barons or her Empire alone.

She’d changed after the ceremony, her attendants repairing as much of the damage done by the rain as they could, but her attempt to emulate the goddess Ahdairon was ruined. Eda didn’t care. She had other things to think about.

She trailed her fingers up Ileem’s arm to his neck, pulling his face to hers for a kiss. “How long must we dance, my darling? You are Emperor, now. I don’t intend to return to my chamber alone tonight.”

Ileem gave her a slow smile, but his eyes flitted around the ballroom, to the balcony and the door and then back to her. He seemed distracted. Nervous. There was tension in his shoulders.

A sense of uneasiness awoke in the pit of her stomach. “Ileem, are you all right?”

“Fine, Eda.” He kissed her forehead, then drew her to the center of the room. “It’s not every day we are married. Dance with me.”

They wheeled about in time to the music, Enduenan instrumentalists having taken the place of the Odan singers. A harp and a flute twined together in an intricate counterpoint, chased by a pulsing drumbeat that echoed through the chamber.

Ileem’s hand was tight against the small of her back. He gripped her other hand so hard it hurt.

“Ileem.”

He kept looking toward the balcony, his usually steady feet stumbling over the simplest steps.

The uneasiness took root. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please, Ileem.”

And then suddenly bells began to ring down in the lower city, a clamoring chaos of noise.

Alarm bells.

Eda was thrown back all at once to the night over a year ago when she’d burst into the ballroom with an army at her back to stop her rival from taking the Empire. For an instant she thought she saw Tuer, his tall, shadowy form striding through the dancers. But then she blinked and he was gone.

Eda looked sharply at her husband. “What’s going on?”

Ileem smiled, the tension melting out of him. “My god is here. He blesses me once again.”

The bells rang louder, wilder.

The dancing and the music stopped.

Eda stared at Ileem, stared and stared. Her mind understood what was happening, but her heart refused to believe it.

And she didn’t believe it.

Not until she felt the sudden prick of pain beneath her jaw and found Ileem’s dagger at her throat.

“There are three ways to appease a god, once you’ve made a deal with them,” said Eda’s father. They had climbed together to the top of the limestone tower, where a rooftop garden awaited them below a fierce spray of stars. The air smelled like the garden’s herbs,mingled with the sharp spice of tea steaming on a low table,and the ever-present salty tang of the sea.

Eda sat down at the table,tucking her legs underneath her, and took a sip of tea: it was very strong and very sweet, just as she liked it.

Her father sat across from her, his smooth face shining. “The first way is to fulfill your end of the bargain and accept whatever unexpected consequences come your way.”

“Why would there be unexpected consequences?”

He smiled. “Because normally only fools make deals with gods. And they don’t think through every detail before offering their vows. The gods can see much more than we can—they have a fuller picture of the world. They can twist our words,so that we think we have vowed something very different than we actually did.”

“Then why make a deal at all?” Eda asked.

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