CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ELARA

AFTER A QUIET EVENING WITH HER PARENTS AND SLEEPING IN UNTIL midday, Elara and her guards reached the mountain city of Papillon by sunset, when the sky was indigo and vermilion. Built into the mountain, Papillon boasted slanted buildings and paved roads that curved farther up the Argent Mountains to Highfort. Gas lamps lit the way to the Papillon Temple, where Elara’s carriage released her to meet with the gods. Temples closed when the sun went down, but the High Santi made an exception for the Maiden Empyrean.

At least there were some people who still believed in her.

Once she’d been left alone in the sunroom, empty but for the garden of herbs the santi were growing at this time of year, Elara called on the gods. All three of them appeared before her, one after the other: curly-haired Mala in her petal-pink gown, stone-faced Irie in her lacy white robes, regal Obie with his head forever shaded by his hood. The sunroom of a temple was the only place holy enough for Elara to summon the three gods at once without dying and the only place in the mortal realm they could be corporeal. Deadegg was too small to have a temple, and Papillon was the closest city to both Deadegg and Highfort.

The first time she’d seen all three of them like this, they’d been so majestic, she’d fallen to her knees before them. Now, she straightened her shoulders and remembered what her father had told her: Trust your own judgment.

“We’ve done research into Gael Soto,” Elara said, raising her gaze to meet theirs. “I called Barret last night, and he told me that Gael was the son of a toy maker and a knight from a small fishing village in Joya del Mar. He was nineteen when he disappeared, leaving behind a son. His lover eventually married his brother, Maceo. With Eugenia and Celyn Soto dead, Signey and Jesper are the last of the direct bloodline.”

No one spoke.

“Is that significant?” Elara frowned. “Irie told me to look to the past for answers, but so far we haven’t learned anything that would actually help us defeat him.”

Irie gazed through the glass panes of the sunroom. Outside there was nothing but darkening trees, smooth boulders, and a sky streaked with stars. “The Soto family, as we knew them, were very close.” Her smile had a bitter edge. “The power that blood holds over the Empyreans has always been stronger than our own.”

Something about the way she said it made Elara’s frown deepen. As much as she wanted her sister back and her family safe, she was not just trying to safeguard her family. The world was at stake, and she understood that. She just didn’t believe that her sister needed to die to protect it.

“Did you try to get Gael to kill his brother?” she asked. “Or are Faron and I the only ones lucky enough to be at odds?”

“Maceo died of old age, but,” Irie said dryly, “I don’t doubt that Iya would have taken his life if given the opportunity.”

Elara bowed her head again. “We have bigger problems at the moment. Protests are erupting across the island again: calls for the Renard Castell line to end with Aveline, and for the Empyrean line to end with me.”

“That won’t be a problem much longer,” said Irie, her gaze heavy. “The Empyrean line will end with you.”

Elara’s blood turned to ice in her veins. “Wait, what?”

“Once the dragons are gone, there will be no further need for the Renard Castell line or an Empyrean. You’ll be free of divine missions and godsbeasts. What mortal disputes you have after that will be yours to handle however you like.”

“You’re—you’re going to abandon us?”

“It’s hardly abandonment,” Irie said, her golden eyes sparking as though Elara had offended her. “We have never and will never involve ourselves in the wars of man. Like the dragons, we have remained in this realm far longer than we should have. It’s made you all complacent.”

Elara’s mouth worked, but no sounds came out. A chill was spreading throughout her body, freezing everything but her racing mind. How could she be the last Empyrean? She had done nothing worthy of the title, and a cruel voice at the back of her mind whispered that she never would. She felt as lost as she had when Aveline had told her to go ahead to Étolia without her, as if her foundations had lost a pillar of support she needed to keep from collapsing. At eighteen, Elara was technically an adult, but she was a child. She was a child, expected to influence the rulers of countries and to save the world without guidance.

This is what the gods wanted.

Desmond Pryor would be pleased to know that she was the last of the Empyreans. He would celebrate every mistake she made because it would further his cause. Elara’s hands shook, and she clenched them tighter, hating that this dress had no pockets. Every time she thought she was no longer alone, she was faced with another loss. Reeve. Her sister. The gods.

Alone, alone, alone.

Elara gasped as she was swept into a hug that was all pink tulle and warm brown skin. Mala knelt to hold her tight, and Elara’s eyes slid shut involuntarily, pressing her face against the god’s shoulder.

“Everything will be all right,” Mala said, drawing back to run her thin fingers through Elara’s braids. “We will still be able to hear your prayers, Maiden. San Irie will always be under our protection. But once we withdraw, you shouldn’t have need for divine magic to solve your problems. You’re more than capable of solving them on your own.”

Elara took a deep, shaky breath. She was tired of having to be capable.

“I have to go,” she said, because she couldn’t lie. It wasn’t okay. She didn’t feel fine. She certainly didn’t think herself qualified for much. But she had gotten all that she would get from the gods right now, and she wanted to lie down in the inn the Queenshield had prepared for her. “I’ll keep you informed.”

Elara left the temple with her chin up, managing weak smiles and dry eyes. Inside her was a tempest of insecurity. Once, Elara had asked the gods to lend her their power. She had promised to show them what she could do. She hadn’t known she would be the final Empyrean. If she was going to be the last, then she had to be the best.

The world depended on it.

Elara swallowed. On her.

The inn the Queenshield had chosen was a homey scalestone-and-concrete building whose exterior was painted the bright yellow of a sunflower. The first floor was a restaurant and grill, with oval tables, cushioned chairs, and the mouthwatering scent of jerk chicken filling the space. People milled around the tables, drinking fruit juice and light beers, talking and laughing.

It was such a contrast to how low Elara felt, that her presence hovered like smog in the clear air. She kept her head down and escaped upstairs before anyone could recognize her.

A soldier waited outside the room at the end of the hall. He nodded once at Elara’s approach. “You received a fire call while you were away, Maiden. We’ve also left dinner for you inside.”

Elara nodded back. “Thank you.”

“Finally,” said Signey Soto when Elara sat down before the fireplace, her stomach full of green banana, rice and peas, and jerk pork. “We have a problem.”

Elara frowned. “All we have is problems. What’s one more?”

“Your sister attacked the National Hall.”

Her dinner threatened to make a second appearance. She forced it down. “No, she didn’t.”

Signey told the story as if Elara hadn’t spoken, her voice even until she got to the part about Zephyra and Jesper. Elara’s ears were ringing, her shock so whole and complete that it was as if the world were frozen around her, but the crack in Signey’s voice brought her back to her own body. It was easier to deal with Signey’s emotions than to think of Faron. In fact, she preferred it.

“I just… I feel so… I feel lost,” Signey admitted. As always, she sounded as if the words were ripped from her throat. As if it cost her to be this open but was a price she was willing to pay if she was opening up to Elara. “I don’t even remember the exact moment it happened. One minute, we were united, ready for a fight. The next minute, Zephyra had been torn out and I—it’s—” She made a sound like a sob. “I couldn’t reach Zephyra. I’ve never seen her like that—so wild and destructive. And it’s so quiet in my head. I hate how quiet it is. I can’t remember the last time I was this alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Elara murmured, wishing that Signey were here. She wanted to pull Signey into her arms, to hold her there, where she would be safe. “You have me, remember? You have Torrey. You have your father. No one can replace Zephyra; trust me, I know. But there are people who want to be there for you, if you’d let them.”

“Do I? Do I have you? It was your sister who did this.”

Elara’s sympathy melted like an ice cube. “Picking a fight with me isn’t going to bring back Zephyra and Jesper.”

“Are you serious?” Instead of being close to tears, Signey sounded as though she were close to committing murder. “My best friend and my brother, Elara. She took my best friend and my brother. She would have taken me, too, if Jesper hadn’t… if he hadn’t…” Her voice cracked. “I can’t let this stand.”

Elara stared down at her lap, where her hands were clasped together so tightly that half-moon indents had appeared on her skin. She loosened her grip before her nails drew blood, trying to formulate a response that wouldn’t upset Signey further. But she knew Faron. She knew her sister. This wasn’t her. Faron would never have done something like that without a good reason, and, after the last couple days that Elara had endured, it annoyed her to have yet another person casting doubt on them.

“Iya took Zephyra and Jesper,” Elara said firmly. “Let’s lay the blame where it belongs.”

“Your sister was there, Elara,” Signey snapped back. “She’s no captive. She wasn’t even chained to the saddle. She tried to invade my mind!”

“Of course she’s a captive. They’re bonded! It’s not as though she could hurt him—”

“She doesn’t have to hurt him to stop him.”

“With what power? You’re being unfair—”

“Elara!”

Her mouth snapped shut. Her hands were shaking. She slid them beneath her thighs. Even when they had been enemies, Signey had never yelled at her before. Elara looked at the wall, so furious that she was close to tears. “I know her. Okay? I know her, and you don’t.”

“Your friends are dead. Your capital was razed. Zephyra and Jesper have been kidnapped. Iya did all of that—and your sister didn’t stop him. It’s been weeks, and she sits at his side and flies with him into battle, and she does nothing to stop him.”

“Just because you can’t see what she is doing doesn’t mean—”

“What is it going to take for you to realize your sister isn’t who you think she is?” Signey was shouting again. Elara got to her feet, pacing away from the fireplace. If the Queenshield guarding her door could hear any of this, then he didn’t see fit to intervene. Elara pressed her ear against the door anyway, because she was afraid of what she would say if she didn’t. “The gods warned that Iya would corrupt Faron. They knew this would happen. Why won’t you accept it?”

“Because she’s my sister!” Elara whirled around, murder in her eyes even though Signey couldn’t see her. “I grew up with her. I know her better than anyone in the world. If Jesper is in danger, he’ll find an ally in her. I’m sure of it.”

“You’re a fool.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Signey said nothing. Elara was breathing hard, and her attempts to calm down weren’t working. Tears slid down her face, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. Even with the facts laid bare, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe that Faron had truly joined Iya’s side. She knew her sister’s flaws as well as she knew her own. Faron was reckless and impulsive. She was disrespectful and childish. She was stubborn and selfish and dishonest and difficult. But when San Irie had needed a hero, a hero she had become. She had swallowed her social anxiety to always come when the queen called. She had abused the power of the gods, but she had followed their every command during the war. She hadn’t given up on Elara when everyone else had, when it had meant doing the impossible, when it had risked the safety of the rest of the world.

How could Elara give up on her?

She took a deep breath, slowly wiping at one cheek and then the other. The fireplace still flared, making it clear that Signey had not ended the call. But even after a handful of months, Elara knew how stubborn her girlfriend was. She would not be the first to break the silence. If Elara didn’t take control of the situation, who knew how long it would be until they spoke next?

“If it were Jesper,” she asked softly, “if all this had happened with Jesper at Iya’s side, would you be so quick to think he’d been corrupted? Or would you believe, in defiance of everything to the contrary, that he was doing the best he could to stop Iya?”

Signey remained silent for a long moment. Then she sighed. “I’m getting my brother back, Elara. No matter what the cost.”

“I understand.” Elara gazed deep into the fireplace. Her pulse fluttered in her neck, but there was a certain peace within her—the kind of confidence that came with knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, where she drew the line. “As long as you understand that anything you do to my sister, you’re doing to me. And I’ll react accordingly.”

There was another silence, during which Elara listened to the crackling of the fire and the muffled laughter from the restaurant below. Her room was on the third floor, but the crowd had gotten so noisy that she could still hear them. She crossed to the window and propped it open to let the chorus of whinnying horses and passing carriages join the din. Life moving on defiantly.

The fresh air also kept her from throwing up. From nerves or from rage. Either was enough to make her nauseous.

“Okay, Elara,” Signey said, resigned. “Whatever you say.”

And that was that.

Elara stared up at the stars. “Could you ask Barret to look further into Maceo Soto? I spoke to the gods today, and there might be something there.…”

Soon after, the conversation ended, and the fire went out. Elara’s mind drifted back to Faron and the possible reasons she might have for using the power Iya had taught her against Signey. Maybe she’d been trying to send a message. Maybe she’d been trying to help Signey fight better. Maybe Elara was biased when it came to her sister.

But it was starting to feel as if the world was biased against Faron. What was she meant to do? She and Iya were bonded, so it wasn’t as though she could attack him directly. Without her Empyrean powers, she had no magic but what Iya lent her, as Iryan magic was incompatible with the dragon bond. Any act of defiance that Faron engaged in had to be small and invisible, or who knew what danger she would find herself in? Did everyone want Faron to kill herself for a temporary victory? Were Elara and her parents the only ones who cared about getting Faron home safely?

She thought of Zephyra and her steadfast warmth, and Jesper and his mischievous smile. One feral and one missing, all because this war still raged on. And all around San Irie, a different war brewed, one sparked by the discontent of a traumatized people who just wanted peace when their leaders, their Empyreans, had brought only war.

It didn’t matter how many people thought Faron had been corrupted. The gods, Signey, or even the queen, though Elara had been afraid to ask. She would always be on Faron’s side. She would never lose her faith. And, together, they would defeat Iya once and for all. She had to believe that.

The alternative was just too painful to bear.