I could tell by the opening of Saiyon’s face that He had not expected me to know that much. But His features immediately hardened. “He has broken eternal law. He tampered with time.”
“My time, but you failed to tell me such.”
He simmered.
“Have You not done the same?” I countered, trying to keep my voice even. If Saiyon was willing to temper Himself for my sake, I could do the same. “You held him against his will.”
The Sun God shook His head. “It is not against universal law to keep him.”
I flung my arms out. “No. You said—”
“I said mortals cannot be forced to do a god’s bidding.”
I ground my teeth together. “Mortal law does not permit you to hold someone against their will if they have done nothing wrong.” Saiyon opened His mouth to retaliate, but I forced in, “Before his dealings with time, had he done anything wrong?”
Saiyon’s flames darkened. He was just as angry as I was. “He is not mortal.”
“And yet he lives among mortals.”
Saiyon scowled. “Mortality has no claim on him.”
“I have claim on him!” I snapped, and I might as well have taken Shu’s ivory spear and run Saiyon through with it. His expression melted into something painful. Only for a moment, for He was a god and had had tens of thousands of years to learn to school Himself into the semblance of omnipotence. But though I had seen the hurt, and I did not want to cause it, I did not regret my words.
“I have claim on him,” I repeated, softer.
He studied me longer than was comfortable, and His fiery brow lifted. “Of course . . . it makes sense.”
I hugged myself, feeling vulnerable. “What does?”
His mouth turned down. “You will deliver him to Me, Ceris.”
“Or what?” I stepped closer again, but Saiyon was hardly cowed by me. “If celestial and mortal law is so separate, can You even order me to do that? Can You punish me? Will You hurt me, Saiyon, kill me? Or will You imprison me the way You did him?”
He flared, heat so powerful I had to step back. He reined it back in.
“It is my charge,” He ground out. “I must secure balance in the universe, regardless of who tries to destroy it. Regardless of My feelings for you. He must repay the time he took. He must restore the chords. I will burn down every mortal city you hide him in if I must.”
I gaped at Him. “You would never be so cruel.”
His light flared again, so bright that I could not bear to look . . . until I realized it was not Saiyon who glowed so brilliantly, but the sky. Or one small point of the sky. I knew its light instantly, its warmth, the voice I could feel but not hear.
Surril. My star.
Saiyon turned His head skyward. “You dare oppose Me in this?”
But she did. I could not see whatever trouble she was causing, but it was something Saiyon could not ignore.
He blazed red and turned back to me. “You blame Me for the damage done here, but you are misled. Ask him, Ceris. Ask him why this war started. Ask him how it is his doing.” His voice was low, tinged with rage . . . but something sad weighed down His words, and at that moment, I could not determine what.
Saiyon flashed away, Surril retreated, and I stood alone among the trees stippling the wide spreads of pastureland, more confused than ever.
I walked back slowly, my energy drained, my mind heavy. I didn’t understand where mortal laws ended and celestial laws began. I trusted Saiyon, and yet I wanted to trust Ristriel with everything I was. It gave me peace to know Surril watched over me, even when I could not see her, and yet her intrusion only raised more questions. Did she trust Ristriel? Could she watch him from the heavens as she did me? Or did she oppose her father only to support me?
Why did Saiyon want me to ask Ristriel about the war?
I rubbed gooseflesh from my arms when I neared the city. A baker had a cart of hot buns near the wall. Grateful to have my things with me, I eagerly paid him for two and ate every last crumb as I climbed the rising streets of Nediah, licking candy gloss from my hands. It was about noon, if the sky was to be believed. I thought of the times I’d gotten bored enough in Endwever to pull one of my pranks, and laughed at my younger self. How simple life had been then, to have such a small world to bask in, a husband already chosen for me, and a future mapped out by someone else!
There was still a crowd when I reached the cathedral, though the spire had ceased burning and showed no damage from the heat. It reminded me of myself, burning alive in Saiyon’s bed and walking away without any physical scars. I stopped and closed my eyes, pushing the memories away. But something struck me: Saiyon could see my soul’s scars just as well as Ristriel and the godlings did. Past looks He’d given me, things He’d said to me, made sense—He felt guilty for giving them to me. Then, like now, He had followed the laws of the universe. And He still wanted me, despite the disfiguration of my spirit.