Page 32 of Beyond the Shadowed Earth
Domin bowed, very low. “What is your first task for me as Baron of Evalla, Your Imperial Majesty?”
“Take five hundred guards and see to it that the mercenaries Rescarin hired are sent away and Evalla’s army is truly reduced. If he owes them money, you have my permission to take it from Evalla’s treasury. See they are compensated immediately.” She worked the ring off the littlest finger on her right hand, and offered it to Domin. “This is as good as my presence. Show it to Evalla’s steward, and he will follow your every order.”
Domin took the ring, and bowed again. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty.” He strode from the courtyard with new confidence.
“As for the rest of you.” Eda turned her full attention to the remaining two Barons, who stood eyeing her with new respect. Ambassador Oadem looked bewildered, and Eda thought she saw a spark of admiration in Liahstorion’s eyes. “There will be no more undermining my rule, my words, my decisions. You are to govern your provinces, bring me accurate and timely reports, and offer council if and when I request it. That is the sum and total of your duties in Eddenahr. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” they said in unison, none of them quite daring to meet her gaze.
She issued a few more sharp commands, dismissing the army and sending everyone else away. For a moment she staggered where she stood, and Ileem caught her arm. “Go and see her,” he said gently. “Go and see your friend.”
Eda shut the door to the little bedchamber so she and Niren could be alone. There was no change. Niren was gray and still, more shadow than not. Eda smoothed the hair back from Niren’s brow. She drew out a jar of ashes and oil and, opening it, smeared part across her friend’s forehead and part across her own, as if Niren were a memorial stone Eda had come to petition beside.
“I’m not letting you go,” Eda whispered. “I’m going to save you. I swear it.” She kissed the mixture on Niren’s forehead; flakes of ashes stuck to her lips, and the oil was bitter.
She left Niren and went to the stables, surprising the attendants there by saddling a horse herself—not Naia, who needed to rest from the last two days. Eda didn’t wait for her guard to finish readying his own mount—she rode away alone, urging her horse as fast as it could run.
Hot wind rushed past Eda’s ears; the desert blurred before her. Still she craved more speed, every pulse of her heart crying outPlease be in time, please be in time.
She pulled up to the temple site in a blur of heat and dust. The masons and builders were back at work, unloading the stone from the wagons, stirring vats of mortar, hauling the stone up the temple steps with ropes and pulleys. The walls were already a little taller than when Eda and Ileem had been there last.
Eda swung down off her horse, and climbed the steps, weaving her way through the workers. Her body felt on the cusp of unraveling; she wondered what bound her together, if it was hope or fear or something else entirely.
She paced through the unfinished temple until she came to the place where the altar to Tuer would be, in the inner chamber. There was nothing there now besides a shard of broken glass, a mirror that reflected the blinding heat of the sun. Eda frowned and brushed the glass away. She knelt on the stone floor. She hadn’t wiped off the ashes and oil from her oblation in Niren’s chamber, and the oil, warm from her ride, dripped down her face like tears.
Eda stripped her sleeve and drew her dagger, staring for a moment at her left hand. Marks of previous petitions marred her, the worst one being the recent cut in her palm. She unlatched her gold arm cuff, and without further deliberation, sliced her blade across the middle of her forearm. The pain was sharp and swift, and the blood welled.
She let the blood drip on the stone until red obscured the dust before the absent altar. “Send her back to me,” said Eda. “Send her back. The temple will be finished, just like I promised. The people will turn to you. You have no cause to take her, now. I’m fulfilling my oath. I’m honoring my vow. Honor yours. Send her back. Please.”
There came no answer, no ghosts, no gods, but it seemed like the world held its breath, a great hush resounding through the temple. And then a gust of wind ripped past her, tearing at her hair and drying the oil on her face. It smelled like roses, like fire. She blinked, and the blood on the stone was gone.
Eda stood, sheathing her dagger, cinching her arm cuff back on over her wound. She had done her part. Tuer had heard her.
Now it was time for him to relinquish his hold on Niren. To return to Eda the price of her vow.
Chapter Thirteen
EDA POINTED HER HORSE BACK TOWARD THE PALACE. The heat of the day was overwhelming, and she longed to be back inside, to have a languorous soak in her marble bath, to becleanfor the first time in what felt like a very long time. But most of all she wanted to be back at Niren’s side. She wanted to be there when her friend awoke, and if she didn’t wake, if the gods took her despite everything—
Well, then Eda would make them pay.
A rider came toward her across the plain, and her heart seized up when she recognized Ileem. He had changed, since the gate, into a bright yellow robe that flowed around him like liquid light, with a matching headscarf sewn with diamonds that flashed and danced. He was bright as the sun, and she realized how much she wanted him always shining in her sky.
A strange hopeful eagerness welled up inside her as he reined in his mount next to hers. But his dark eyes were serious, almost angry. “You went to the temple alone, didn’t you? You called the godsalone.Why didn’t you wait for me? I would have invoked Rudion for you.”
Something went tight and hard in her chest. “I was invoking the gods long before you came, Ileem Emohri. It’s my vow in question. My friend’s life hanging in the balance. It had to be me, and it had to be alone. You couldn’t do it for me. Not this time.”
His expression softened, and he looked suddenly stricken. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of Eda’s hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek as he drew his hand away again. “Forgive me. I understand that my bond with Rudion is different from yours. That it must be. Did he come to you? Did he speak to you?”
The scorching wind dragged dry fingers across Eda’s face. “He accepted my offering. I hope it will be enough.”
“The gods have favored us since Raiva’s Well. They will not forsake your friend, not now.”
She studied him, and asked the question that was gnawing at her. “Where did you get the vial?”
“Rudion gave it to me, the night of my arrival. He said to keep it close, that I would have need of it. I didn’t know what it was until … until our ride to Raiva’s Well.”
“And you don’t despise me, even though—”
