Solia was cast out from each city and village, a laughingstock, a madwoman. Until finally, she traveled to the very last temple, a temple belonging to one of the most ancient gods, a god nearly forgotten, even then: the Temple of Festra.
Ru’s heart quickened as Taryel read. They glanced at one another, pausing only to share wide-eyed glances as they read on.
It was said that when Solia spoke to that nearly-forgotten god, at the foot of his looming statue, he alone believed her. He alone believed that she had visited the Isle of the Sun and returned for the sake of humanity. And so taken was Festraby Solia’s true and honest soul, her unerring faith, that he descended to earth at that moment, kneeling before her. He offered himself to her, his love and devotion. She “drank of it,” though the story didn’t say how — whether he had given her some blessed tonic, or whether the drink was a metaphor. Images of delicate wounds and blood-soaked lips flickered in Ru’s mind.
And then, before his kindred, the gods, and their children who had cast out Solia, Festra made a vow to her.
Then he took Solia in his arms and flew with her to the Isle of the Sun, and there, they wed, living out their lives in that sunbathed, golden city until they were ready to die. And when they eventually had their fill of life and all it had to offer, they would pass hand in hand through the gates of paradise.
But before they went to the Isle of the Sun, Festra upheld the vow he had made. He was known, in those days, as a vengeful god. He believed himself to be fair, but his “fairness” often resulted in bloodshed. And those who angered him, even for the smallest reasons, were dealt whatever punishment he deemed just. So Festra unleashed his anger on the people who had ignored and rejected Solia. He engulfed every town, every village, every temple she had visited with white-hot cleansing flames. Not a soul survived the destruction of Festra.
Exactly as he had promised.
“Have you heard this story before?” Ru asked, flipping back to skim it again.
Taryel shook his head. “Never. King Alaric may have known the story, but if he did, he never shared it.”
Frowning, Ru flipped back to the final page of the story. A footnote read that in some ancient religious texts, it was said that those who proved their faith in Festra would be rewarded. That they would be imbued with Festra’s love and devotion, andwhen those devotees were deemed worthy, they, too, would walk through the gates of paradise on the Isle of the Sun.
“Do you think Lady Bellenet has read this?” Ru said, flipping through pages thoughtlessly. “She spoke of the Isle of the Sun. There must be something in it.”
“And the line aboutimbuingwith Festra’s love…” said Taryel, lips curling in distaste.
“Lady Bellenet’s powers,” Ru finished. “It has to be. But it explains nothing about us, your heart, the artifact. All it confirms is that Lady Bellenet isn’t speaking complete and total nonsense.”
“Or that she’s already read this book,” Taryel said.
Ru chewed her lip, reading the footnote again. But it revealed no new secret, no insight into how they might stifle Lady Bellenet’s powers. “Taryel,” she said slowly, a horrible realization coming to her. In the fog of dread after meeting with Lady Bellenet and Hugon's revelations, she had completely forgotten — the drunk courtier she'd spoken to at the ball. “Have you ever been to Prayer?”
He shifted, angling sideways so he could meet Ru’s gaze head-on. “No. Have you?”
“You’d think they would want us front and center at that kind of thing, right? Lord D’Luc refused when I asked to go.” Her heart sped. “Taryel, that courtier, he told me Lady Bellenet does something at Prayer. That she lights up the whole chapel.
Taryel blinker. "What courtier?"
"Oh, never mind. It doesn't matter. All I know is he said Children come out of the chapel lookingempty. We need to see what happens there. She must be doing something at Prayer, something to change people.”
Taryel clearly didn’t share Ru’s sudden enthusiasm. “It’ll be crawling with Children.”
“Then I’ll go in disguised as one.”
He pressed his mouth into a thin line. “If what you're saying is right, if they catch us defying them after all the work we’ve done…”
“And look what we’ve accomplished so far,” Ru said, growing impatient. “Nothing. This game of playing along isn’t opening any doors for us. We need to dig deeper, get our hands dirty. Don’t you want to stop all of this?”
Taryel let out a soft breath. “The last thing we need is either of us taking a risk like that.”
“All we have to do is play our parts,” Ru insisted. “Please? Simon can get us white robes, and if we’re discovered, we say we just… got caught up in the fervor. Play innocent.”
Taryel’s brows lowered a fraction. “You’re severely underestimating Lady Bellenet and Lord D’Luc’s ability to smell a rat.”
Ru pursed her lips. “Fine. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
“Well, now I don’t want to.”
“I’m tired,” Ru said, and she realized it wasn’t a lie. Her eyes ached from reading in the low light, and she was beginning to feel the effects of all that food and drink at the sky mouse’s party. “Let’s talk about it some other time. You’re right, it would be a needless risk.”
He eyed her, his grey eyes soft in the firelight, his expression so caring it hurt Ru’s heart. Reaching out a hand, he tucked a stray curl of hair behind Ru’s ear, leaning forward as he did. Her breaths quickened, her heart in her throat.
