CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

It is enough to just be

quiet

and

listen.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

The number of people pressed into Rosira’s northern temple must be in violation of some sort of fire code. Zeli stood at the front of the only Sisterhood temple still standing in the city—the southern one had been destroyed by terrorists and the eastern one pulled down by the hands of the wraiths. The joyous anticipation inside the walls was like effervescence, popping and fizzing in the air. She inhaled it deeply.

“Who are all of these people?” Varten whispered to her, craning his neck to take in the crowd.

She shrugged. “It was an open invitation, and everyone needs a reason to celebrate.”

The audience had dressed in their finest clothes to come here today and experience some joy again. On the raised platform in front of them was a table holding several tiny glass bowls and a larger empty one. A small candle flickered inside one of the smaller bowls. Varten had described the Elsiran marriage ceremony to her and she liked the symbolism of it all.

Only a handful of Sisters stood behind the platform. The order had been devastated by the questions about the Goddess Awoken and Her possible allegiance to the True Father. Her disappearance after his death had made the rumors swell. That added to the imprisonment and upcoming execution of the former High Priestess had left the organization in shambles. Zeli was not certain they would survive—but maybe out of it something new would be born.

A hush came over the crowd and then a low chant began. All the Raunians in attendance—and there were so many she wondered if there was anyone left on the island at all—began to sing, their voices rising in a lilting melody. Ani emerged from a door behind the platform and climbed the short steps. She was radiant in a voluminous gown made of iridescent blue material that left her arms and shoulders bare.

She wore a matching glove on her single hand, and a ribbon tied around her other arm where it ended below the elbow. Roshon approached the platform from the opposite direction, grinning from ear to ear. He wore a sharply cut formal suit and looked comfortable in it. Queen Jasminda and King Pia arrived last, making the small stage quite crowded.

Darvyn and Kyara had agreed to delay their departure until after the nuptials. They stood with Dansig, King Jaqros, Tai, and Lizvette in the front row.

Tears formed in Zeli’s eyes, she loved weddings. The Elsiran and Raunian ceremonies were held simultaneously. The Elsiran one involved transferring the contents of each small bowl into the larger one. The Raunian service involved lots of knot tying and a series of call and responses in their language—some of which involved the whole audience. Zeli stumbled over the pronunciations of the words, without any clue as to what she was saying, but the love and hope of everyone present rippled through her Song.

When it was done, the bride and groom stayed at the front to receive their guests, another Raunian tradition. Their families were at the front of the line, and she followed Varten, who hugged his brother and new sister fiercely before stepping back.

Zeli placed a wrapped gift into Roshon’s hand. Wedding presents weren’t part of Elsiran custom, but they were important in Lagrimar.

“Open it,” Varten said, grinning. His brother peeled back the paper and opened the box to reveal the little figurine of two boys with their arms hooked into one another’s—the same one the twins had been fighting over when Zeli met them.

“I decided you can have it,” Varten said.

“I decided that it would be a good wedding gift,” Zeli said, elbowing him. Varten shrugged and chuckled.

“Thank you,” Roshon said, holding it gently, and Ani beamed.

“Maybe we’ll give it back to you when you two get married,” she said.

Zeli’s face grew hot. From the corner of her eye she saw Varten’s jaw drop then snap shut. He nodded. “Deal.”

Then he grabbed Zeli’s hand and moved off, allowing the next person in line their chance to greet the newlyweds. She had questions, lots of questions, but she couldn’t voice them as they worked their way through the throng and to the temple’s exit.

Outside, masses of people queued up to get their chance to greet the prince and princess.

“Marriage?” she finally asked, brows raised as they stood on the temple’s front steps.

He looked sheepish. “Well, you know … I mean that is if you want … Well, the thing is. I love you, Zeli. And I do want to marry you. If you’ll have me. One day. I mean we—”

She silenced him with a kiss, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down. His arms encircled her waist and for a moment, she forgot where she was. Though the air was frigid, Zeli was quite warm. She breathed him in, losing herself in the softness of his lips, and the heat of his body pressed against hers.

Finally she pulled away and gasped for breath. “I love you, too, Your Grace. And I would be delighted to marry you.”

Varten blinked slowly. “Really? Maybe once all the hubbub dies down. Wouldn’t want to steal any of their thunder, you know?” He gave her a cautious glance. “I mean, Ani and Roshon were engaged for years, so there’s no rush. Unless you wanted to rush. Or not.”

She kissed him again, delighting in the feel of him against her. She was so full of hope and joy, it was very possible she might burst.

A chattering trio of women moving past bumped into Zeli, reminding her that they were still on the temple’s front stairs. She took Varten’s hand and they descended.

At the bottom of the steps, a small group of women in Sisterhood robes appeared to be arguing with a couple of rough-looking Elsiran men. Zeli tugged on Varten’s hand and motioned toward the commotion. In wordless agreement, they approached.

“The Goddess abandoned us,” one of the men spat, flinging his arms wide. “Why don’t you take those robes off and admit the truth—She was just a charlatan, a hypocrite witch who didn’t give a rat’s arsehole about any of us.”

The half-dozen women being accosted looked weary. Though they still wore the uniform, they seemed lost—Zeli’s Song revealed deep wells of emptiness and sorrow within them. Like they were just going through the motions without any other notion of what to do. She recognized most of them—once she’d hoped they’d be her family, now she felt sorry for them.

“The Goddess’s teachings are still a balm in times of need,” one Sister was saying. “They are timeless and Her presence or absence makes little difference in their power.”

The Elsiran man shook his head, grumbling along with his fellows. “I went to temple every week for practically my whole life. Thirty-five years of faith, of believing in Her. And now what? Now we’re left with nothing.” His anger masked deep hurt and loss. Zeli could understand his grief—it was shared by so many of the faithful. What to do when that faith is betrayed?

She moved closer. “What was it about being a follower of the Goddess that brought you comfort?” she asked the man.

The entire group looked at her sharply, surprised at her interruption. She didn’t feel the need to apologize for intruding, the desire to help was strong within her. “All of Her wisdom, all of Her guidance, it hasn’t gone anywhere. It wasn’t even unique or specific to Her. Who among you had the Dream?” Two of the men nodded as well as one of the Sisters.

“Was what She told you in the Dream so profound? Or was it your belief in Her and your joy at being one of the chosen that made it all the more impactful?”

The faces staring at her frowned with confusion. “I served the Goddess, too. I believed in Her. But now I look back and wonder, what exactly was it that we believed in?” She turned to the lead Elsiran man.

“What was it that made you go to the temple every week?”

His brow wrinkled. “Faith. Duty.”

“Anything else?”

“My family.” He shrugged. “Our neighbors. It’s what we did, slept there once a week, hoping for a Dream.”

“Did it make you feel like you belonged to something bigger? Like you had a way of battling hardships and pain?”

He thought for a moment and then agreed. “It brought me peace.”

“And where did the peace come from?” Zeli pushed.

He shook his head.

“Where has it gone?” she asked. She took in the gathered group, which seemed to have grown. “Inside of you. It’s all there. That’s where all feelings come from. Having a Song means that I can sense your despair and your delight, and everything in between. I can feel it growing and shrinking, and I promise you that these emotions don’t originate from anywhere other than inside each of you.”

Her listeners were rapt. “There is a voice within you that whispers quietly. It causes your skin to pebble when you walk a dark alley alone. It resonates with accomplishment when you help a neighbor to bear a burden. It sings in harmony when you meet the love of your life. We are very, very good at not listening to this voice. We want verification from outside of us—from goddesses or queens. We are convinced that someone knows better, that we cannot trust ourselves and so we turn without when we should look within.

“The Goddess’s teachings struck a chord with that inner voice. It is what made you feel that creating community with your family and neighbors brought joy. That giving to charity and helping those in need was the right thing to do. The Book of Her Reign may say, ‘It is no burden for those with plenty to spread their excess among those who lack’ but you believe it because of that voice inside. If the book told you that stabbing your mother was the way to achieve the Dream would you have done it?”

The man recoiled. Several others grumbled, affronted at the thought. Zeli spread her hands. “You don’t have to be lost. You just have to find yourself.”

One of the Sisters turned to her, appearing pensive. “I know your voice, it’s so familiar.”

Others murmured in agreement and Zeli pressed her lips shut. Should she reveal that it was her voice in their heads during the attack? They’d all heard her, but she wasn’t certain she should bring it up. Perhaps that should continue to be a mystery.

An Elsiran woman who had wandered over spoke up. “What do you call these teachings?”

Zeli’s brows climbed. “They’re not teachings. They’re just … I don’t know, just thoughts.”

“I’d like to hear more,” a young man said from the back of the group. It had definitely doubled in size since she’d been speaking.

She shook her head, perplexed. She turned to Varten, widening her eyes and silently asking for his help.

“You could tell them about sacrifice,” he said, voice low. “About trust and strength and courage.” His eyes were smiling at her, and the admiration and love in his gaze settled her confusion. “You’ve learned a lot that you can share. And I think … I think a lot of people would want to hear it. Not all of us have Songs, but we can all learn to live in harmony. With each other and with ourselves.”

She swallowed and glanced back at the receptive faces turned her way. “Maybe that’s what I could call it? Harmony?”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “The Harmony of Being.”

Zeli filled with a new kind of warmth. One that was full of purpose. Her head swam, she had not intended to become a teacher of any kind, but the people’s need for comfort pulsed through her Song. This was something she could do, at least. Something good.

“Why don’t we head to the park,” Varten called out. “And she’ll tell you more about it.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Varten squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, you can do this,” he whispered.

And she believed him.