The priest blanched and whirled toward the doors so quickly he tripped on his robes. And in his eagerness to meet his god, I fled in the other direction, picking my way through a side hall behind the ambulatory. The décor fell away within a few steps, the walls turning into uneven stone, cold and unadorned. This was a better route, besides. It would do no good to reveal Ristriel’s hiding place to the crowd outside.
When I stepped into the crypt and saw Agradaise’s casket, a chill overcame me, eyes watering in remembrance of the beauty of my vision. Beauty I’m sure could only be described in the gods’ own tongue. To say I did not still yearn for it, that I did not ache to see it again, would be a lie. I would ache for it all my mortal years. But my fate had changed inextricably, and I could not yet confirm it hadn’t been for the better. There was beauty to be found outside the hereafter. Beauty I knew completely, beauty I had touched, beauty as complex as the depths of the night sky.
Thoughts of the self-righteous priest winked away, as insubstantial as a summer snowflake.
I shoved open the narrow door to the cellar with my shoulder and took another six steps downward. The lamp was lit, flickering with what little oil was left. Cool relief drowned me when I saw Ristriel sitting up, elbows resting on his knees, head down. His blacker-than-black hair covered half his face, but he glanced through the locks when I approached.
Dropping to my knees beside him, I asked, “Are you all right?”
The corner of his mouth ticked. “It will pass.”
I took his hand in mine and looked it over, running my thumb across his palm, tracing his fingers with my own. He watched like it was some sort of dance he was beholding for the first time.
I saw no injury—no cuts, no bruises, no scrapes, on his hand or elsewhere—but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Ristriel wasn’t mortal, after all.
Which made me remember.
I lowered his hand softly. “You have never lied to me.”
He stiffened and winced, affected by injuries I couldn’t perceive. “Never.”
“But you have never corrected me, either.”
His eyes met mine, knowing.
I let out a long breath. “You are not a godling.”
He hesitated for several heartbeats. For a moment I thought we were back to our old game, me dying to know the truth and him evading it. But instead he answered, “No, I am not.”
I’d known as much, yet hearing his confirmation spiked alertness in me. “Then what are you?” Surely he wasn’t a demon. He was much too kind for that.
Ristriel considered for a moment. “By the classifications you would understand, I am a demigod.”
My heart thudded a little harder. A demigod. The second-most-powerful celestial being. So many questions filled my mind, but the loudest was the one Saiyon had told me to ask. Ask him why this war started. Ask him how it is his doing.
“The war,” I began, but Ristriel took up my hand, staying me.
“I will tell you everything you want to know.” His eyes were so deep, so endless, so sad. “Even if it angers you.”
My throat tightened. I forced it to swallow. “I’m not angry. Not anymore.”
His lips twitched again. “Did He tell you already?”
Shaking my head, I said, “He only told me to ask.” But it seemed Ristriel would have revealed the truth either way.
“It is my doing, this war.” His voice was husky, just above a whisper. “I am the one who prevented it. And because I escaped, they war with one another again.”
I shook my head, confused. “Ristriel, who are you?”
“You asked me, before, who gave me my name.”
One who is chained. That was what Father Meely’s book had read. We’d been interrupted before he could tell me.
“The Sun God named me,” he went on. “But mortals gave me a name as well. They called me ‘Twilight.’”
A shiver coursed its way from my crown to the backs of my knees and up again. Twilight. Twilight.
Gods in heavens, it all made sense. The night came on so suddenly now; I had thought it strange, in the back of my mind, but never examined it. But I remembered. Before the torch lit in the church in Endwever, before I ever met Saiyon . . . I remember the dim indigo light that covered the sky after the Sun had set, and before the moon rose. I remember having more warning before darkness fell. I remembered him.
And I had the distinct impression that I was the only mortal left who did.
“It’s as I told you . . .” Ristriel pressed into the cool stone at his back. “I was created by a shard of the dark side of the moon and the Earth Mother. But neither of them claimed me. I was reckless in my youth, unguided and unsure of myself. The Sun won His war and captured me, chaining me in the veil between His kingdom and hers, so the moon could never again assail Him at times of strife, when He is split and weakened.”