Page 78 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
Stupid, stupid, stupid! I had him, I could have invaded his mind and made him mine, but I wanted to taste what life might have been like. Now I’ve made a mess of things, as I always have. Why is this my task?
Maybe if Therat were immortal, his doom would not come. She had to try, would do anything. Even if it ended the world.
“My Queen,” she stammered at last, a bundle of nerves forming in her stomach. “I throw myself at your feet, Your Majesty, to beg for grace. Not for myself, but for myliraes, Therat. Dark are my visions and dreams of his death. In my dreams, I see him fade, the Shadow-weave grown to consume him. I cannot stop their hunger, only sate it for a time. Please, I beseech you, save him from doom!” Mireithren did not dare move as she spoke, her forehead still pressed against the Queen’s feet.
A hushed murmur worked its way through the crowded court. Mireithren stayed kneeling. She could feel all eyes on her, staring at the woman who begged to let another live an immortal life. She wondered if this had happened before. Mireithren knew nothing of how their long life worked, but whatever the price, she would pay it a thousand times over.
A soft touch on the back of her head lifted her gaze. The Shadow-Queen beckoned Mireithren to stand. Therat stood beside her, his body tense and quivering. He shot a glance at Mireithren, but she could not decipher his emotions. Anger, surprise, sorrow? He turned back with a clenched jaw.
“This is yourliraes, child?” The Queen’s voice thundered through the throne room. “Come here, Therat. I would have yourhand, for a moment.” A gasp slithered through the air of the closest courtiers. Mireithren had a feeling this type of request did not often occur—if ever.
Therat extended a hand and placed it in the Queen’s waiting palm. Something seized in him, and his eyes turned black until the Queen released him.
“And yours,lyneithra.” Mireithren offered her right hand; Pherisa’s hand felt like ice. Mireithren fell into a black nothingness. With a beat of her heart it faded, and the Shadow-Queen Pherisa stood in front of her once more.
The Queen held one hand high above her head. The hushed whispers of the court ceased. Mireithren saw the Queen Consort descend from her throne, a woman dressed in pale violet silks, dark purple hair enveloping her like a living cloak. She said nothing but stood by the Shadow-Queen’s side with a smile, one hand gently resting in her consort’s hand. Mireithren thought it almost impossible to look upon such elegant beauty.
“This is myliraes, my Queen and eternal love, Adairen. Like you, we are bound together in this world and the next, our harmonics forever calling for each other, searching, yearning. Hard was my path to find her, but never would I stray from her side now.”
The Queen Consort Adairen smiled at the Shadow-Queen’s words, a slight flush rising to her silvery black cheeks.
“If you seek my blessing for Therat, I am unable to give it.”
A dagger stabbed through Mireithren’s heart. She wanted to scream and yell and demand a reason why, but nothing would move. The Queen continued.
“I will grant this gift, this blessing of eternal life and safety from the weary call of Death,onlyif you both partake. This is my offer, for I cannot fateliraesapart. I know too well the madness one is driven toward when you deny fate.”
Mireithren gasped, an audible “gods” coming from Therat.
“Oh, your grace is too much for me to take, Your Majesty! I would never seek such a gift for myself.”
“What is the price of this immortality?” Therat demanded. Mireithren looked to him and saw his eyes black, the Shadow-weave curling around his body. He bristled with anger. She placed a hand on his shoulder, but he did not stir at her touch.
“Nothing you must pay,eaneithra.It is the Blasphemer’s children’s fate to pay the price. Would you deny this gift, Therat, who is of my blood?”
The Shadow-Queen’s voice thundered around them, her presence terrifying. Mireithren tugged at Therat’s hand until his gaze broke free of the Queen. The blackness faded, replaced with a guarded look in his eyes, uncertainty and fear leaking through.
“What are you doing?” he whispered to her. “Why do you want this?”
“Because I cannot lose you. I don’t know what else to do, Therat.”
Mireithren turned back to face the Queen, who stood with a patient smile. She took in more details of Pherisa’s divine face. The soft arch of her lips, the almost imperceptible scar above her left brow, how a dimple like the one Therat would get formed under her smile.
As she looked at the face of the Undying Queen, something tickled the back of her mind, a growing presence that demanded attention. A cool, hollow feeling filled her body. The void nestled inside her core expanded, consuming the woman where she stood. Something pulled her down into oblivion until the white throne room faded to black.
There was nothing.
She was nothing.
No! You cannot, this is corruption! Buried in half-truths, no one knows, no one knows. The void prison must break, shatter, fracture across the universe. Rend flesh from bone, mind frombody, a vessel waiting! Rinbrel. Venaem ithé lira! Cinn buil á anais!
My Lady!
Mireithren gasped and opened her eyes to the blinding glow of the white throne room. It seemed as if the world paused, the Shadow-Queen still standing in front of her with a smile, Therat by her side. The shock of hearing Eithranren’s voice left her spinning.
She wanted to scream out right there, yell at the heavens and the Queen to speak the full truth, to tell her what must be done and end the torment. Pushed and pulled in every direction, no clear answers, only a feeling thatsomethinghere would give her the peace she sought. She didn’t want a child, and she didn’t want to lose Therat. It didn’t seem like an impossible request from the Goddesses.
She needed time to find the answer, something she knew Therat didn’t have. There was only one thing to do, one sure way forward. The rest she would have to figure out as it came, as terrifying as it may be.
