Ileem’s eyes flashed with a fury equal to her own. “He will be sorry. No one mocks Rudion and lives long to boast about it.”
His anger scared her, and she took a step away from him.
His face softened, saddened. “I’ve come for peace, Your Imperial Majesty. No matter how hot my blood runs, I swear to you I’ve come for peace.”
Gods help her. She believed him. She took a breath. “Come see the temple with me tonight. See what you’ve promised to help me build.”
He smiled, and the last of the anger melted from his face. “I would like nothing better.”
In the evening, the pulsing heat of the day fading bit by bit with the westering sun, Eda and Ileem rode out of the city, each accompanied by a pair of guards.
A wide expanse of barren desert unfolded before them, the Place of Kings silhouetted against the sky to their right. Dust swirled up all around, shimmering in the last remnants of the sun. It wasn’t a long ride, just two miles outside of Eddenahr.
They reached the temple site with enough light yet to see by, the half-completed building Eda had been so proud of a week ago looking dismal and forgotten to her now. What would Ileem think of her, now he saw her poor offering to the god they both served? She swung off her horse and handed her reins to one of the guards, who lit torches for her and Ileem. She glanced aside at the Denlahn prince, nervous for his reaction.
But he only nodded. “Show me everything.”
The temple was being constructed in the ancient Enduenan style, the main building meant to resemble a mountain peak, with the central spire soaring straight up into the sky. But construction hadn’t progressed nearly that far. Eda led Ileem up a hundred wide, shallow steps and through a yawning archway into what would be the temple proper, holding her torch high. The walls of the inner sanctum were only knee height, the rest of the building open to the yawning sky and the hesitant, newly wakening stars. When the structure was complete, floor tiles would be laid in an elaborate pattern of intertwined blue and gold. A stack of the tiles waited in one corner and Eda knelt and touched one, reverently.
Ileem knelt with her. “It’s beautiful.”
She met his eyes and knew then that he saw what she saw: the temple in its completed state, a thing of true magnificence. Her heart eased. He took her hand and pulled her back to her feet.
They wandered all through the interior of the temple, Ileem not letting go of her hand. She didn’t mind, and so didn’t shake him off, his fingers warm and strong around hers. She had felt for so long like she was on the brink of collapse, and here was someone who could perhaps steady her feet again. But she wasn’t ready to relinquish her autonomy, not yet.
The night grew cooler around them, and as they paced toward the back of the temple, where small living quarters would be erected for the priests or priestess on duty, a sudden, icy wind tore past them, ripping Eda’s hair from its careful braids, extinguishing her torch with a drawn-outhiss.The sudden smell of incense and dried flowers rose strong in the air, and she turned and clapped her hands over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her scream.
“Your Majesty? Your Majesty, what’s wrong?”
Horror twisted through her like venomous snakes. Two figures stood in an unfinished alcove, staring back at her: Shadow Niren, her silver skirt flapping violently in the wind, and an old man in a stained dressing gown—the garment he’d died in. Eda could still feel the hard vial of poison in her hands as she’d administered the last dose, the dry papery awfulness of the Emperor’s trembling lips. His last breaths. His sudden, shocking stillness.
“Your Majesty? Eda?”
But Ileem’s words didn’t reach her. She stepped toward the two figures, trying and failing to keep herself from shaking. “What do you want from me?”
Silent tears slipped down Shadow Niren’s face, and the Emperor’s ghost looked at Eda with immense sorrow. “The Circles are closed,” he whispered. “I cannot get through. No one can.”
“The god of the mountain is waiting,” said Shadow Niren. “You are the only one who can help him.”
“That was not part of my agreement!” Eda hissed. She was vaguely aware of Ileem coming up behind her, placing one warm hand on her shoulder.
Shadow Niren shook her head. “Seek the god. Fulfill your vow. Only then will you be free.”
The words unsettled her, echoes of the ones uttered by the priest of the sacred pool. “I’m not a prisoner. And what aboutNiren? How can you wear her face when she still lives and breathes?”
“Oh Eda. Do you truly not know me?” Niren’s shadow slipped closer, brushed her fingers across Eda’s brow; they were soft and cool as rain. “How I’ve missed you.”
“Niren—”
But Eda blinked and both Shadow Niren and the Emperor were gone. Wind blew dust over the stone, taking with it the scent of incense and dried flowers. Ileem watched her in the flaring orange light of his torch, but didn’t ask her what she had seen.
“This was a mistake,” she said. “We shouldn’t have come here.”
She swept back across the length of the temple and through the archway, Ileem hard on her heels. She practically tumbled down the steps, then swung up onto Naia and kicked the mare into a run.
But even the fastest horse in the Empire couldn’t outpace Eda’s terror.
The heat was oppressive in the Emperor’s bedchamber, the fire stoked hot, though it wasn’t needed in the warm spring evening. The attendants had kept the fires burning all day, desperate to chase away the Emperor’s chills and keep death from coming.
