Trust him?
I shouldn’t.
But I wanted to.
Cassius moved deeper into the abbey, beckoning me to follow. Directly in front of us, at the end of a long sanctuary, was the altar. There wasn’t a table or shrine to mark it, but the back wall was far too impressive for it to be anything else.
Three wide peaked arches rose from the ground, holding up the wall above them. Seven identical circles formed an empty rose window. Had stained glass once filled them? Now all they framed was a sliver of the moon, perfectly balanced in the top right circle.
Rivulets of water wept down the stone wall like quicksilver, as if beads of moonlit dew flowed out of the very bricks themselves. They trickled into a large crescent-shaped basin behind the altar. It sounded as though we’d been transported into a summer rainstorm.
I stared up at the windows, hypnotized by their perfectsymmetry.
“Annaleigh?” Cassius prompted, breaking my gaze. He took out a crystal chalice and dipped it into the silver water. “Hold out your hands.”
The water smelled like fields of wild mint, tickling my nose and making me want to sneeze. As it spilled out onto my swollen knuckles, it left tingling tracks over my skin, sinking in and chilling me, though it wasn’t cold to the touch. Even the thick, humid air couldn’t stop a shiver from racing down my spine.
I flexed my fingers in amazement. The bruises faded as the swelling subsided. Broken, cracked nails were repaired. The pain was suddenly entirely gone.
“Tip forward,” he instructed.
Scooping out another cupful of the silver water, he poured it over the bump at the back of my head. As it sank in, I could feel the last bits of confusion and panic ebb away. He placed the cup back in its carved niche and disappeared behind one of the archways. I rubbed at the fading knot, amazed at how like myself I suddenly felt, as if the water had chased away a phantom presence, leaving just me behind. When he returned with a glass of water, I drank it gratefully.
“What is that?” I asked, pointing to the waterfall wall.
“Have you ever made a wish on the first evening star?”
“Of course.”
“Versia gathers them up, and they rain down here.”
I studied the water, searching for a sign of its magical properties, but all I saw was my reflection staring back at me. “You speak as if you’ve met her.”
“I have,” he said, and pulled me over to a series of benches.
I sank down on the stone seat, toying with the skirt of my nightgown as I tried to make sense of all this. Back before we knew of the door in Pontus’s shrine, Fisher said gods once dealt directly with mortals, stepping in to mediate disputes, help with crops and harvests. Along the way, most retreated further and further into the Sanctum, content to leave mortal affairs to the mortals.
But I knew some gods still used emissaries to carry out tasks for them. Was Cassius one of Versia’s messengers? It would explain his vague responses about his life before showing up that morning on Selkirk.
“Do you work for her?” I asked, stumbling over my words. “As a messenger?”
His eyes crinkled into a smile. “No…I’m her son.”
My mouth fell open in astonishment. “Son? But that would make you…”
“Half god.”
I twisted my fingers together. It was hard to understand and almost impossible to believe, but I was sitting here, in his mother’s abbey. I felt the heat of the air and the stones beneath my feet. Her magic healed my hands. This couldn’t be made up.
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
He ran his fingers through his dark curls, tugging on the ends. “Do you remember what you told me in the park at Churning? About how so many of the men you meet are after your position and money?” I nodded. “I too want to be liked for who I really am. Not all this.” He raised his hand, gesturing at the moon wall.
“Why are you telling me now?”
“You said you were being haunted. By your sisters.”
My hands balled into fists as I remembered opening my eyes in the bathtub and seeing not Lenore but Rosalie staring down at me. Cassius placed his fingers over mine, covering them with earnest care.
