Michael moved the chair and repositioned his pillow and bedding. His body was telling him how late it had become. Laying down, he heard Koen scratching and shuffling around part of the blanket, exhaling noisily as he settled in.
Michael closed his eyes, picturing as he drifted into sleep what his mother might have looked like. He imagined that Ariana favored her a great deal.
It was mid-morning when Michael opened his eyes. The room was still dim, the fire having died down, but Michael could see a thin ribbon of light filtering in from beneath the door. Koen had moved and was sleeping on the end of the bed with Ariana.
The air had chilled during the night and he rose to place more wood on the fire.
Ariana stirred as the bark on the firewood scraped together, bits and pieces falling to the floor below. She had burrowed beneath the covers as far as she could, leaving only the top of her head visible.
Michael stopped for a moment before putting the logs in the hearth and glanced over at her. He could barely see her without the glow from the fire.
He turned and arranged the wood, picking up some kindling and stuffing it beneath the heavier pieces. There were enough embers left from the night before that with a few breaths it sparked back to life. Visibility returned to the room, tiny flecks of light dancing over the deep red hue of Ariana's hair. His dark blonde hair had a tint of red to it. His skin was also pale like hers. Adoria was blanketed in snow for most of the year, so unless an Adorian was half-human, his complexion was naturally light.
The homes in Cyphrus, the capital city, were nestled along the cliffs of two large mountain ranges leading down into the valley. The castle that housed the elected sovereign, all members of the council and retired members of the Braeden began in the valley, built along the edges of the mountain, and extended upwards to a high point on the far north side.
The buildings were all cut from the radiant white stone of the Keil Mountains. Ornate carvings lavished the exteriors and rich colors from tapestries and paintings, all crafted by the ancients, adorned the interiors. Deep hues of blue with patterns of silver were woven into the rugs that ran the length of the halls in the castle. He had stayed there with his father when he was home, the only child who had ever been allowed to come and go from the Iidolis. He remembered his father teaching him how to wield a sword and shoot a bow. It was nothing like the training that he had received from his instructors — his father was unquestionably more skilled.
He had only seen Palingard once, and it had been from a distance. Several years ago, he had detoured from his men on the return voyage from a brief skirmish near Cornumas, which lay south of Palingard.
He had ridden at dusk through the Netherwoods, aware that it was risky coming so close. The other men had stayed far aside, riding straight through to Adoria, but Michael was curious. He had wondered how different their world was from his. He had met Ereubinians on too many occasions, every one of which was unpleasant. They were still humans, in a way. The two races had the same lineage thousands of years ago. But he had never actually seen a real human village, though he had been defending them and learning about them for as long as he could remember. He had slowed his horse as he approached the edge of the woods. The light from the fires illuminated the villagers with a soft glow. They were celebrating something.
It had appeared to be a wedding of some sort. He was intrigued. It was nothing like a wedding in Adoria. Their weddings were very sacred matters, held in private. Michael had watched as the couple stood together holding hands in front of a man dressed in dark clothing. Everyone was silent as the pair was prompted to repeat things to one another. A few moments later, they had turned to face the crowd, and everyone cheered. Michael smiled. They all began to sing and dance. Long tables had been set out with food and drink. He couldn't make out details, but he could see decorations had been put up everywhere. They were so full of life. He had spent so much of his existence focusing on duty and responsibility that he couldn't pull his eyes away from them.
As they had rejoiced, it had struck him why the Braeden were so different when they returned home. Once the young Braeden were ready to leave Adoria, they weren't allowed to return for at least ten years.
He had watched them for a moment, imagining what it would have been like to live among humans for so long. In the brief time that he had witnessed their private world, he felt extraordinary loyalty to their cause. He could not imagine how intense it would have become had he been there longer. Michael left, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. He had believed and put faith in his father's words, but it was different seeing the very core of what he had been taught to protect. He would never be the same.
Michael was still deep in thought when he heard her move. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, staring into the fire. She shifted beneath the covers for a moment, before growing restless and sitting up. She looked around the room, trying to get her bearings, her brow furrowed. Michael looked up at her and placed his hand on the bed.
'It's alright,' he said. 'Do you remember where you are?'
CHAPTER SIX
His stomach was already coming dangerously close to being unsettled. Garren tried to drown out the sound of those who escorted him as he made his way through the keep, past the baths, and into the temple of the Goddess.
Night had fallen and the high glass dome that topped the entryway appeared as black as ink above him as he passed the red-robed vessels, his boots loudly echoing off the stone floor. Polished to a high sheen, the floor had a mirror-like effect, catching the candlelight and sending it out among the pillars and carvings that flanked the walls, lighting everything as if the room itself were aflame.
There was no need for his guards to be told they were not allowed past the great doors into the inner sanctum, nor would they have wanted to go if they had been invited. Garren didn't normally feel so ill at ease approaching the Laionai, but his insides churned, fearful of what they would sense in him. Will they know of my betrayal?
He clenched his fist before motioning for one of the vessels to usher him in, falling to his knees the instant he was in their presence.
He never grew accustomed to it. No matter how many times in the past he had been witness to it, no matter how many moments he spent questioning it, he would never find himself used to hearing their voice, devoid of an echo, as if time itself had no hold on them.
'You have pleased Her Holiness, High Lord, with both your faithfulness and valor.'
Garren felt his stomach coming undone and coiling in on itself as they spoke. His pulse quickened, sending blood rushing through his body, lower extremities going numb as the blood pooled at his middle. He kept his head lowered as he responded.
'I pray that I have pleased you as well, your eminence.'
Their eyelids slid over black orbs, fluttering unnaturally before reopening. The movement seemed nearly human, but forced as if the skin was trying in some way to respond like it was still marked with responsibility, still burdened with the tasks of keeping the organs functioning, but finding it unnecessary as it performed them.
'Yes, High Lord. We find your appointment appropriate, as we believed when we gifted it to you. In light of your recent achievement, it is time for you to be joined with a breeder. It is the Goddess' will to reward you for your efforts. We trust this gratifies you?'
The Ereubinians had been held to eugenic law for centuries. He understood the reasoning — it was the only way to ensure the continuation and eventual purity of the lineage. Humans were not allowed to bear children of their own, but a select few were chosen as breeders to carry the blood of Saint Ereubus.
'Yes, your eminence. Deeply.'
'We trust you have seen to the position of High Priest?'
Garren nodded, 'Yes, your eminence, I informed Tadraem upon my return from Palingard.'
A smile erupted across the thinly stretched, translucently pale skin of their lips, revealing an absence of teeth. They laughed; a low and guttural sound that sent shivers across Garren's flesh.
'Very well, very well, son of Ereubus. Then as custom dictates, may the High Priest choose one among the
