Not wanting to pry too deeply into that, I tried to keep us on track. “Was your mother from another realm?” I asked hesitantly.
Mora shook her head. “No, but she had very special blood.”
“A Realmspinner?” I asked.
“No,” Mora answered, again not offering more details.
“She was fighting,” Mila explained, picking up on the female’s evasiveness. “She was jumping between places. Infiltrating enemy camps with her glamour.”
“With her glamour…” Mora’s words trailed off, and she turned her face toward the heavens, muttering. A prayer, maybe. When she was done, she looked back at us, grinning mischievously. “That gives me an idea.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Ophelia
The days followingEchnid’s ambush were spent either shut in the capitol meeting chambers with representatives of various clans, strategizing how to take down a god, or we were training. Unable to rest for fear of the god striking, I practiced with seraph magic and flying. Turning my light into a number of physical weapons and mastering the winds. What the god had done to me, and what Thorn had tried to do to Tolek, lit a renewed fire in my Spirit, and it burned between us all.
Following Moirenna’s death, Vale was almost always tucked away communicating with the Fates to try to read what the god had done, and Cypherion planned for the incoming Starsearcher forces and imbued weaponry to stand among our own. Soulguiders continued to gather historical accounts of godly magic, led by Erista. Malakai and Mila explored Reflector powers with Mora, and Bodymelders were working on a mass triage strategy in case this war did bloom. Xenovia was flooded with warriors of almost every clan, and the tense threat of a god wrapped the city’s borders.
“I don’t think we need to fear him infiltrating the city,” Erista proposed as she entered the war room where Meridat and Iworked. Steaming cups of tea sat between the chancellor and myself, the herbal aroma doing nothing to soothe me.
“Why not?” I asked.
Erista flipped open a book on Artale. Faded ink stretched across the top of the page, barely legible despite the bronze mystlight chandelier overhead. “This legend claims Artale provided extra protections to the city named for her daughter. That no god may enter.”
Reluctant to feel too relieved, I scanned the page, ether softly unspooling around my wings. “That would explain why he didn’t follow us here,” I murmured, searching for a loophole in the text.
“If that’s true,” Meridat began with a reassuring smile, “then theoretically, Xenovia would be the safest place for us all to be gathering.”
“Or the biggest target,” I countered as gold light shimmered faster along my wings.
“A good point,” Meridat agreed with a nod.
Before we could discuss it any further, Jezebel burst into the room, cheeks flushed and a beaming smile on her face. “You have to see what’s just arrived!”
We raced after her, past the delicate mosaics, elegantly carved arches, and detailed frescos adorning the halls, calling a number of questions, but they all died on the breeze when we exited the building and saw who—and what—waited before the massive sculpture of Xenique that marked the heart of Xenovia.
“Ezalia!” I called, rushing down the steps and across the square as the Seawatcher Chancellor came into view. “How in the name of the Angels did you get acannonhere?”
“I don’t care how,” Tolek said, eyes glowing as he emerged from the crowd with Cypherion. “I only care what we’re going todowith it.” He placed a quick kiss to the chancellor’s cheek before scurrying to the weapon, which was on a wheeled cart.Spirits, the thing must have weighed tons. No wonder their progress was slow.
“Just what he needed,” Cypherion muttered, fighting the first small smirk I’d seen him flash since the ambush. “Good to see you again, Ezalia.”
“And you,” the chancellor said, nodding at Cyph and hugging me to her.
“CK! Mali! Come look!” Tol yelled, as excited as a child given his first sword. Malakai, Mila, and Mora had just arrived, the three admiring the weapon. Cypherion excused himself, leaving me with the chancellor.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, relief unwinding in my chest. Ezalia had not only become a political ally since I assumed my title as Revered, but she was a friend. A hugely comforting presence in the wake of my father’s death, too.
“From what your letters said, this is every warrior’s battle.” Ezalia nodded, her sharp features set in determination. She stepped back against the fencing of a tailor’s shop, the city center crowded with onlookers as the Seawatchers branched off to find their assigned lodgings. “Tell me everything,” she added.
And there was something in her firm authority that made me comfortable enough to expose how truly frightened I’d been while Echnid held me down. While he’d drugged me in Damenal. It was the same sort of assurance Meridat provided, the two women having ruled peacefully for decades with reigns I hoped to emulate.
If I couldn’t have my father for guidance, I was grateful for them.
By the time I finished, Ezalia’s face had paled slightly, but her sea glass eyes were sharp as daggers.
“I don’t know how a god can be killed,” she said as we climbed the steps back into the capitol building. “But I’ve seen unheard of magic before. We will find a way.”
