Jill sighed as she watched first Brexten, then Geniece, disappear around the corner until she stood alone in the hall. She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand and swore under her breath. That, she decided, had definitely not gone well. She could still feel the warmth from Brexten's hand on her shoulder. The perverse in her had wanted to push him away and make him feel as angry as she did. She glanced at the silver ring. Maybe some of it might be guilt. Maybe she didn't feel strong enough to deal with all the expectations piled on her. And maybe, though she hated to acknowledge it, some of Rafe's words regarding Aden were not that far off the mark.
Still, the shouting had been liberating. It had been a day of pent-up anger and trivial frustrations. From the moment she'd woken—the second time—that morning, every confrontation had built upon the one before it until she finally exploded.
Too bad I took it out on the people I'm closest to and who don't deserve to be burdened with it.
Resolve filled her. She would handle it better next time. She wouldn't let the little things get to her or allow Rafe and Nia to make her lose focus again. After all, wasn't she Arianie's Chosen? She had already accepted that role and whatever obligations came with it. Now she needed to remember exactly what the responsibility meant.
With that realization, something within her sat up at attention—in her, but not completely of her. It felt like a light switch had been turned on inside her. Or, she'd been hit with a rush of exhilarating energy that made everything slightly unreal, out of sync, and too far away.
She stumbled, disoriented. She caught herself against the wall with both hands. Head bowed, eyes closed, she breathed deeply as she felt Arianie move inside her. Awed and terrified, she waited. She had felt Arianie before, but usually in times of powerful magic and extreme circumstances. Then, she and Arianie had worked in concert until it felt like they were one in the same. But this registered as something completely different. This was Arianie choosing to exert herself and override Jill entirely. This was scary.
Feeling nauseous, she hugged her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut. Only by rapidly swallowing several times did she keep from throwing up. The nausea passed as quickly as it came and she stood upright again. However, once she opened her eyes, it now felt as if she viewed the world with a magnifying glass. She expected to see threads but didn't. Instead, images looked sharper, brighter, crisper. She took a step and it felt as if her foot barely touched the floor. Another step and it seemed she floated. And now, she truly felt Arianie within her. The goddess hovered just under the skin. Jill felt her own self not so much submissive and inactive, but as if two wills guided her body rather than one. If she wanted to touch the wall or adjust her tunic or make any of the other hundreds of gestures she carried out unconsciously, she and Arianie had to make the effort together. The decision was no longer hers alone. For the moment, they had blended seamlessly into one being.
As she walked down the hall, the clarity of vision increased. It seemed that she was rising out of her skin and could do more, feel more, be more than she ever had before. She could tangibly sense that thing inside her that made her different. Could finally touch that spark of the divine within herself. Why this was happening, she had no idea. But as for what might happen, she knew that spark would have a say in the outcome of today's meeting. The knowledge she drew on would come not from herself, but from Arianie. Brexten had asked for Arianie's Chosen. Now, for the first time since the Awakening, that was truly who he was going to get.
The solid oak door to the meeting room had been left slightly ajar. As she approached, it swung back of its own accord until it tapped gently against the wall. She'd come to a meeting room of some sort. Or a war room, came her next thought as she took in the windowless walls covered by an endless sea of maps that detailed land masses and oceans she'd never heard of or seen before. Arianie knew them, though. Had birthed them and given them names. Names that her son, Coric, had taught his human children.
A large round table dominated the room and chairs surrounded the whole of the table. Two smaller tables were pushed to the side, overflowing with dirty dishes and half-eaten platters of food. Goblets were strewn liberally about and in the center of the table were five large wine decanters. Four were completely empty and one, a quarter full.
So this was where they had been all day: sequestered and secretive, like a jury. She crossed the threshold. Stood silent, waiting, sensing. Remnants of strong emotion hung in the air, swirling like little whirlwinds. Anger. Remorse. Laughter. Jealously. A wide span of feelings hurled themselves at her the further she walked into the room. Belatedly, she considered her wards. They had utterly fallen as Arianie swam to the fore. Now, she could sense everything.
She considered those gathered the room and realized something else: though there were people there that she had never met, she still recognized them. All were known to her—to Arianie. She could flick through their minds and wade through their thoughts without qualms or reservations should she so desire it.
As her gaze wandered, she saw Aden leap hurriedly to his feet. Of course, he of all of them would perceive the change in her first. He would sense her wards were down and what had now risen to the surface. Though he looked exhausted and worn, his violet eyes were wide as he came to her side. For long moments, he simply looked at her. A faint smiled played on his lips and he seemed immeasurably pleased. Then he took her left hand and kissed it. Rafe's accusations swam to the surface of her thoughts.
"Both of you?" he asked gently, his voice low and deep.
She smiled because he looked so happy, and she realized she had never truly seen him look so at ease. "Yes, both."
"Gentle goddess." He kissed her hand again. "That is something then, isn't it?"
He remained standing at her side, still holding her hand as if he were her consort while she surveyed the room. She found that she didn't mind, that his presence felt comforting. She knew she could lean safely into him and he wouldn't let her fall or lead her on some wild chase. The magic wanted to wrap itself around them like a comforting blanket. For once, she didn't want to fight or deny it. Maybe Rafe had been right then. Perhaps turning to Aden might be easiest.
Those seated around the table watched them. Her eyes lit upon Count Rubenek and a younger woman with deep chestnut hair and green eyes, also Vistrian. Jill caught the name from her thoughts: Dalissia, a countess from the northern territories who had thrown her lot in with Rubenek. She planned to support his rebellion in Vistridos that would overthrow the Queen, his former consort, and oust his only child. Gunnar and Callista sat across from them. She looked fragile and scared, strain singing its way through her, down her arms and into the cup she held as if she might crush the metal stem. Broken threads dangled uselessly around her and, from her mind, Jill caught relentless flashes of Tamas and the thing within him savaging her. She tried to push the images away, but couldn't. Not entirely, since she remained unwarded. She watched Gunnar ineffectually hold her hand as impotent rage at his own weakness consumed within him. He had once wanted nothing more than to be her betrothed. Now, that hope lay smashed.
Geniece had taken a place in between the Vistrians and Callista. She stared moodily into her goblet. Her mind whirled with pain and longing as she thought of her husband, wallowing in memories that Brexten's thoughtless comment in the hall has unleashed. The worst and most brutal pain came in realizing that she was no longer certain she could remember what her husband once looked like.
Standing by the window was a tall older man, his once powerfully built body having gone to seed. A duke from a city to the east of Valinac. Thorne of Tevarre came the name—there to observe the happenings in Valinac and report back to his people and to his fellow duke, Yardan of Priden in the north. Leaving Thorne to approach her was Cavell. Of all of them, only he looked remotely drunk. Jill caught nothing but happy lust as he neared her, eyes focused solely on her breasts. He put her in mind of a friendly, harmless puppy. However, a glance to Aden quickly redirected him to the table where he fell into a solid wooden chair with a thud.
That brought her gaze to Cosette, who frowned and looked severely irritated. Jill caught sorrow mingled with satisfaction. She turned away before she could glimpse more. Cosette's mind was one place she had no desire to see more of. Instead, she caught Prince Kelis and Captain Arrio standing aloof from the rest, looking up from their own private conversation. She sensed concern for Ishrian paired with images of an older, careworn man—Kelis' father, King Padraic of West Cendan—and speculation on what his father would say when he learned of events in Dolmar.
Lastly, Brexten. From his thoughts, she recoiled utterly. His was one mind she refused to let Arianie draw her into. He stood apart, leaning against the fireplace. His eyes flicked over her and Aden, and at her hand still captured in his. Whatever Brexten thought, his face betrayed nothing. She felt her chin rise in challenge at his mask of indifference. Belatedly, she suspected that she—or Arianie—wanted him to react. Brexten had housed Kydel, if only for a brief time and for some oddly twisted reason, Arianie hated Kydel as much as she loved him. She wanted a reaction from her lover and seemed determined to have it.
Brexten took a handful of steps forward until he reached the edge of the table. She stood at its other end and they gazed at each other across the length of it. Whether she imagined it or not, the air seemed to crackle when Brexten looked at her. Neither spoke and for a heartbeat, that spark within her quailed.
"I was told you wanted to speak with me," she finally said, as if the earlier confrontation in the hall had never happened. It amazed her that she could sound so casual.
"My lady, we need your magic," came the simple answer. "We need the power that only Arianie's Chosen would have."
Magic. Always the magic. Her universe of perception shrank to the confines of the room. The spark burned. She let go of Aden's hand and stepped closer to the table. She had eyes only for Brexten. "You want me to create a portal, don't you?"
"Not just one. Several. My lord Shey'na'shen says you're the only one powerful enough to do it."
She thought of yesterday and remembered the absolute chaos of their escape from the palace. Her own fear at wielding so much power again nearly overwhelmed her. And then, she thought of Kachine and her savage rage. Her throat went dry
"Why?"
"Surely this is a waste of time, my lord Prince," Duke Thorne of Tevarre burst out, heavy jowls flapping. "I realize you have great faith in this woman, but—"
When she turned to gaze at the heavyset Duke, his voice faded off into silence. Something in her face made him pause. She cocked her head to the side, simply gazing at him until his cheeks flushed. With disgust, she realized it was his arousal and not embarrassment that caused the flush.
In measured tones, she said, "I am Arianie's Chosen, my lord Duke. It is unfortunate, but I appear to be the only hope you have left. For your sake, I wish the case could be otherwise. Sadly, this is the way fate has twisted the path. I apologize for the inconvenience."
When she looked back to Brexten, she saw the quirk of his lips as he tried very hard not to smile. It faded quickly as their eyes met again and she felt herself drawn to him. She sighed inwardly at her own fickleness. She might have walked around the table to him and let him fold his arms around her if she hadn't immediately sensed the raging anger suddenly boiling from Cosette. Turning abruptly, she met the woman's stony gaze.
"Is there something you wished to say, High Priestess?" she asked. "Do you feel that I've insulted the Duke with my outburst, or have I offended the world itself with my presence?"
"For a woman claiming to be the goddess' chosen, you're very glib with your words."
"She doesn't claim to be Arianie's Chosen, my lady priestess. That is who she is," Brexten murmured.
"Need I remind you I am High Priestess now?" Cosette countered sharply. "Perhaps I should as, if I recall, you weren't there when I assumed the responsibility. Were you there when Tamas had his hands around my lady Astera's throat and snapped her neck? No. Were you there to prevent the aldar teres' slaughter of those left in the temple? Of course not. In fact, I recall the both of you ran off to commit more foolishness in the palace. Consider the end result of that particular debacle."
An audible gasp filled the room as everyone took a collective intake of breath. Cosette simply looked smug, her blow having hit its target.
"You forget yourself, my lady," Brexten said with clenched teeth.
"I think not. In fact, I believe you forget yourself. I am High Priestess. I speak for Arianie. Only I can decipher her will and determine the most appropriate course."
Jill couldn't help herself. She started to laugh. And as she saw the outrage grow on Cosette's face, she laughed all the more until it ended in an inelegant snort.
"Were you formally chosen as High Priestess? No. In fact, you are not the High Priestess I would have selected," she said bluntly. "Were I you, I might think more carefully about the things I said aloud until my position was more secure. In my world, people would say your outburst now was rude."
"They would say similar things here in Dolmar as well," Geniece answered, voice cold.
"As they would in West Cendan," Kelis added.
"As they would anywhere," Count Rubenek put in.
"My lady High Priestess, thank you for your council and your efforts today. Your presence is no longer required. When we've reached our decision, you will be notified of the outcome," Brexten said.
Cosette looked outraged. "You have no right—"
"Yes, I do. Please leave."
"I—"
"He said leave," Cavell interrupted, pouring himself another mug of wine. He hiccupped and spilled the remaining droplets in the pitcher down the front of his doublet and trousers. "That means get out."
The scrape of Cosette's chair on the hardwood floor was the only sound in the room. With her chin tilted at a precarious angle and her cheeks pale with rage, Cosette stalked to the door. "I only hope that when you do call for my council, I will again provide such useful advice," she said, her tone scathing, and slammed the door.
Or tried to. At the last, Jill reached out with the magic, catching it before it could rattle the walls and portraits the same way Rafe's earlier departure had. She felt Aden's presence at her back, leaning close to revel in her magic. For a moment, his adoration was a heady thing and she wanted to bask. Then, she looked to Callista who slumped in her chair like broken stalks of wheat, and didn't feel so delighted to have Aden near her.
"You've made an enemy for certain with that one, my lord Prince," Thorne said.
Brexten simply shrugged. "She allowed no other alternative. My only concern is that we don't end up paying for this too dearly later."
"She can't remain as High Priestess," Jill heard herself say, feeling Arianie press closer. "I won't allow it. Whatever happens and no matter how this ends, I will not suffer that woman as High Priestess."
Brexten blinked and seemed startled at her vehemence. And then, a look of comprehension swept over his face that made his eyes widen.
"You're... She... She's here, isn't she? You're both here," he whispered.
And Jill nodded, almost smiling. "I've told you that before. It has always been the case, just more so now than ever before. As Prince of Dolmar, if you have something to ask of Arianie's Chosen, ask it quickly. It is...difficult to have both in the fore at once. I suspect what you ask will be something that cannot be comfortably given and that is why I am here now. I believe you said you needed several portals created. I would like to know why."
For an instant, it seemed she could sense something within him straining to reach toward her. Not quite magic, but something that responded to Arianie's presence. Kydel? She almost ran to him then and threw herself in his arms in the hopes that maybe, yes, Kydel had come to her. But no, she lost the feeling just as quickly and the sense faded.
"We must leave Chareen—immediately, if not sooner, my lady," Brexten said, his voice awed. "Beyond that, we need to leave Dolmar as well. Unfortunately, there are too many of us to simply march out. Tamas knows we're close. He just doesn't know how close. Him gaining that knowledge will only be a matter of time. We need the portals. It will speed the evacuation and allow for greater flexibility of transport. We've been debating this most of today and I believe it's the best option open to us. Only you have the power to make it happen. You are Arianie's Chosen and I have no right to command or to even ask this of you, but our need is great and we are desperate. Please believe that I would never ask if I knew of another way."
That was the problem. She did believe him. Yet she feared more than just her unpredictable abilities and what their end results might be. Always at the back of her mind was Kachine. Kachine had forbidden her the use of the portals, yet she had done it anyway. Now Brexten asked her to do it again. What price Kachine would extract for this transgression?
Aden spoke then. "What we'll attempt now will be no different from what we've already done. You provide the power and we, the Shey'na'shen, will channel it. Yesterday may have been difficult but that was partly my fault. After Rayna attacked me, I lacked a measure of control over my abilities. I didn't have the time to sufficiently clear my thoughts. I was harsher on you than I intended and I apologize."
She stared at him wide-eyed. Without meaning to, her gaze again slid to Callista who looked at the man with undisguised hate and frank disbelief. She looked back to Aden. "You believe you did what you did because Rayna hit you over the head?"
"I refer to my lack of control, not the decisions I made."
"I would have decided things differently."
"That's your prerogative then, though I suggest we debate this at another time."
Jill frowned, the odd mixture of scolding and flirtation in Aden's words catching her off-guard. She jerked away, putting as much distance between herself and him as she could without actually leaving the room. The slight couldn't be helped and she found for once in her life, she didn't care what the others thought of her. Rather, she simply did not want to deal with Aden and his complicated feelings just then. So instead, she found herself standing next to Captain Arrio.
"You're all forgetting about the strain on Jill," Geniece spoke up. Her tone was angry, frustrated. "You've proposed four different portals, Brexten. Fechata, Orestria, Othro, and Mauti Isle, as well as numerous people and supplies. Not only are they all in completely different directions, they're weeks apart in distance. We're asking too much."
"Is it, Jill?" Brexten asked. He stood much closer to her now that she'd moved. His eyes were on hers. I could melt under that stare. If he asked, she would no doubt try running to the moon. "Is it too much?"
"It's possible," she answered, cautiously.
Prince Kelis let out a sigh. "That is good news. The thought of walking home wasn't something I looked forward to."
"Should we be relieved?" the woman, Dalissia, asked. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn but I have yet to see Arianie's Chosen perform. I feel anxious about placing our hopes in someone who has not yet proven herself."
"Dalissia!" Rubenek's voice held a warning. "Don't speak when you've no idea what you're talking about. I have seen Arianie's Chosen work. Her direct intervention not only freed Prince Brexten from the Maze, it toppled both Nikolos and Rayna."
"I stand corrected then. Forgive me," the woman said, head bowed, eyes lowered.
"I echo the Vistrian's doubts," said Thorne of Tevarre. "My lord Prince, I've listened to your claims about this woman, but—"
"No, you haven't," Brexten interrupted him. His eyes swept the entire room, cold and hard, meeting and holding all their gazes one by one. "In fact, I doubt very few of you have actually listened to anything I've said today. Jill has proven herself a thousand times over, but that is not the point. You all fail to understand the seriousness of what I'm saying. There will be bloodshed. In fact, there's already been bloodshed. But that will pale in comparison to what we still face. Tamas has lost his allies. And the rest of us—I predict we will lose so much more. War is coming and we must be ready. This isn't about some tyrant overthrowing a king and seizing a throne. This is a world on the edge of chaos, about to fall into despair. Do you think Arianie's Chosen is here as the result of some freak accident? Do you think it's little more than a terrible shame that the magic wielders no longer have access to the magic? If you really believe these are simple incidents without meaning or consequence, I suggest you leave this room now. That reckless belief will endanger all of us."
Jill almost laughed at the horrible irony. Reckless? Doesn't he know how reckless it is to ask me to create a portal? Yet at the same time, she could not help but be impressed by him. Listening to him, she felt a warmth spread through her, and she believed. She believed everything he said and knew she would follow him anywhere.
"When?" she heard herself ask. "When do you want to do this thing?"
He met her eyes and offered a smile that made her feel like something precious. That smile spoke volumes—thanking her for her unwavering support, admiring her ability to simply say want needed saying, and revealing more adoration for her than she'd ever seen in anyone's expression before. In that single moment, despite the crowded room, she'd never felt closer to him. And she wondered how in the world she could ever have felt herself drawn to Aden.
"Tonight," he said. "We leave Chareen tonight."
"But that's too sudden! How can we—"
Protests erupted around them, too many and too numerous to know exactly who said what. Tonight? Jill cocked her head, listening, feeling. Arianie considered. They both did, and both felt an undercurrent of anxiousness in the air. Something crept closer. Something waited. Brexten was right: they had nearly overstayed their welcome in Chareen.
"Tonight then," she decided abruptly, silencing them all. "At twilight."
"Are you sure that's wise?" Captain Arrio asked. "That could lead to confusion and disorganization in the evacuation."
"No, it will be tonight," Brexten repeated. "It may be that such confusion works in our favor. I would like to have every possible advantage, not matter how slight."
"Then I need to tell you something," she said carefully, wondering at the best way to phrase it. But there was no best way, only the truth. "I will make a portal for you. I will create as many as you need and send them anywhere you want. But you need to know what to expect, after."
"My lady?" Brexten's blue eyes narrowed, questioning. "What it is?"
"The portals belong to Kachine. That is the way Kydel dreamed this world and Kachine's place in it. She is both fate and chaos, and the portals are her tools. I... I can manipulate them, but that's not who I am or what I do. Kydel..." She paused there, searching for the words, for an explanation that would make sense to them, and herself. "I... We..." What was the best way to say it? "Arianie is the mother goddess. I... She is life giver and taker. She will be there at the beginning and the end until the dream is over."
Brexten stared at her now. All of them did, as if they had never seen her before. Maybe they hadn't. Didn't they realize how all-encompassing it was to be Arianie's Chosen? Her gaze drifted to Prince Kelis and Captain Arrio. Their expressions hovered somewhere between surprise and outright skepticism as they regarded her. No matter. Theirs and others' disbelief in the existence of the gods would vanish soon enough.
"Kachine has forbidden me use of the portals. That is legitimately her right and I should obey her in this. I... I'm bound by different rules than the rest of you. I am not to use the portals. Still, I did it anyway when we escaped from the palace. And now you want me to do it again, and for you, I will. But understand that is not who I am. Don't ask me to protect any of us from her anger because I can't. Even as weak as he is now, Kydel won't allow it. And believe me, Kachine will be angry."
"What are you saying?" Brexten whispered, his face pale.
"I'll create the portals. We're in a desperate situation and we need them. But Kachine does not care how justified our cause. I've meddled in her affairs. As far as she's concerned, someone will pay. The question is, are you willing to take that chance, my lord Prince? Are you willing to pay?"
Why had she called Brexten that? She so rarely used his title, as if she couldn't quite believe he was actually a Prince. But the situation demanded. She could feel the power, feel the radiance of Arianie as if light danced on her skin. It seemed as if she was rising again. Magic lifted her up and only the weight of her body and her mortality held her down. But it was a heavy weight. She could feel Arianie slipping. Having both herself and Arianie alert and aware at the same time was a difficult thing. They couldn't exist much longer in this state.
"Jill... My lady... How can you be certain of this?" Aden whispered.
"You should know that better than anyone, my lord Shey'na'shen," she said. "If you've dreamed of my coming for these past two years, you should have expected this moment." She turned back to Brexten. "Well, my lord Prince. I asked you a question. Are you willing to pay the price of Kachine's anger?"
Brexten's eyes were hard and his mouth a mutinous line. "Yes."
She smiled. "Good. Then Kydel was right and there is some hope for this world after all."
And with that, Jill felt the spark burn low, felt the overwhelming presence of the goddess diminish to the tiniest flickering of light. The radiance, the sense of floating, the absolute certainty of who she was and what she needed to achieve all faded. Nothing remained but herself. Just Jill, with the tiny flickering of light—the only reminder of the goddess. How am I going to explain this outburst later? she mused.
Aloud, she managed, "Well, that was interesting," followed rapidly by, "I think I'm going to be sick."
And then, with all the dignity in the world, she fainted.
YOU ARE READING
A Hand Weaving Chaos (Book 2 of The Fallen Gods Trilogy)
Fantasy***{WATTYS 2022 SHORTLISTED}*** Jill Logan is plucked from everything she's come to care about, only this time, she's fallen into the hands of Prince Brexten's most powerful enemies, and they are determined to destroy her. There is treachery and ma...
