Urduja had informed Alaric and Talasyn that Nenavarene Enchanters would be summoned to the capital to observe firsthand the creation of their light-and-shadow shield. When Talasyn walked into the atrium, Alaric was already present, standing beside a small group of men and women garbed in lengths of vibrant checkered fabric arranged in various ways, a mode of dress characteristic to Ahimsa, one of the seven main islands—a bustling metropolis that served as Nenavar’s center for aethermanced technology.
In his severe black attire Alaric looked practically comical next to the Enchanters, like a dour, overly large thundercloud. But, for some reason, Talasyn was fixated only on his gray eyes. They regarded her with a hint of softness as she approached. Curiosity, maybe, or concern, after yesterday’s events lingered in the air between them. Her face flamed and she determinedly ignored him, turning instead to the woman who led the group of Enchanters.
Ishan Vaikar, the stout and curly-haired Daya of Ahimsa, curtseyed to Talasyn with a slight limp. Talasyn knew that hidden underneath Ishan’s checkered skirt was a golden prosthetic in lieu of the right leg that she had lost fighting in the Dominion’s civil war.
“Your Grace. If you and His Majesty would be so kind as to position yourselves in the middle of the atrium?”
As Talasyn complied, she searched the surrounding windows and balconies for any sign of Urduja or Elagbi, though she knew it was in vain. Security precautions dictated that they be far away when the sariman cages were removed from the Night Emperor’s vicinity, and the atrium had been selected for its distance from the royal family’s wing of the palace.
Talasyn did spot dozens of servants peeking out from behind curtains or pillars, or crouched down low looking through glass. They were technically not supposed to be watching, but mere technicalities were no match for Nenavarene curiosity.
Alaric noticed the spectators as well. “Is it always like that here?” he asked.
For once, she wasn’t in the mood to order him to stop talking to her. She was tired. And, yesterday in the council room, he had to his credit taken no apparent pleasure in the hurt that she’d failed to disguise, and he’d even insisted that the Dominion be more forthcoming in the future. Granted, that last part was probably more for his own benefit—but, still, Talasyn had felt a little less alone when he said that.
Grasping at straws again, she mused, her eyes flickering over his sullen profile in the early-morning sun.
“Gossip is a way of life here,” she told him. “You’ll get used to it.”
The corner of Alaric’s mouth lifted slightly. An odd thought struck her then: What would he look like if he smiled?
No sooner had the question crossed her mind than a sliver of mortification pierced through it. Why was she thinking about Alaric Ossinast smiling? She was clearly more emotionally overwrought than she’d assumed.
A few meters away, Ishan stepped forward. This was the signal for the palace guards at the periphery of the atrium to take the sariman cages down from the walls and move them further away. The Lightweave came rushing back just as Ishan raised the barrel of a slender void musket, the same model that Talasyn had first encountered on the Belian range.
“I am ready when you are, Your Grace, Your Majesty,” the daya sang out, entirely too gleeful for someone holding a lethal weapon, and Talasyn swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. She looked toward Alaric, and he met her gaze, searching for confirmation. They both nodded.
Ishan pulled the trigger. The violet bolt of the Voidfell streamed toward Alaric and Talasyn. They each conjured their daggers and hurled them forth, just as they’d done when that pillar in Lasthaven was bearing down upon her.
Only, this time, the result was far different.
In that there was no result at all.
Light and shadow slammed into each other, sparking, and the void bolt roared as it devoured them. Suddenly there was nothing but amethyst barreling toward Alaric and Talasyn, no shield to stop it, and the Enchanters were screaming—
Talasyn’s world tilted abruptly as Alaric tackled her to the ground. She would have landed face-first, but his arms clamped around her, cushioning her from the worst of the impact. There was a guttural hiss as the void bolt swept past the space where they had just been standing. She was on her stomach, staring at the marbled pattern of the stone tiles as Alaric curled around her, over her. He expelled a quick breath, and as he did so, his soft lips grazed the shell of her ear. She could feel his heart pounding against her spine.
She didn’t know how long they lay there, adrenaline pulsing through their bodies, fit to burst. She felt small tucked beneath Alaric’s broad frame, surrounded by the warmth of him. As the sunlight grew hot against her head, she noted—as she had in that cell at the bamboo garrison, so long ago—that he smelled of sandalwood. There was a hint of cedar as well, and the peppery bite of juniper berry, warmed by a touch of sweet, resinous myrrh. He smelled like the alpine forests back on the Continent. What an odd thing for her to notice. What an odd thing for him to hold her like this.
Ishan and her Enchanters were running toward them, but their footsteps sounded muffled. The Kesathese crown prince blocked out everything else, as he always did.
Not the prince, Talasyn corrected herself in her daze. He’s the Night Emperor now.
“Are you all right?” he asked, low and hesitant. The words ghosted across her cheek, causing a shiver to shoot down the nape of her neck.
“Get off.” She elbowed him in the ribs, defensive for reasons she couldn’t explain.
By the time they had both scrambled to their feet, the Nenavarene Enchanters had formed a concerned huddle around them. Ishan was wringing her hands in dismay. “Lachis’ka!” she cried, pushing past Alaric in order to inspect Talasyn from head to toe. “I do apologize! From the way that it was described, I assumed that the shield could be replicated like—like that—” She snapped her fingers. “And I solemnly swear on the windswept bones of my foremothers that, had I suspected there was a chance of your magic not taking effect, I would never have fired—oh, Your Grace, can you ever forgive me?”
“I’m none the worse for wear, Daya Vaikar,” Talasyn hastened to reassure her. “But I don’t know why it didn’t work, either.” She frowned, looking down to examine her hands. “The circumstances aren’t much different from the two previous times.”
“The eclipse,” Alaric said quietly. He absentmindedly scratched at his jaw as he appeared to think it over. It was a boyish gesture, one that Talasyn couldn’t help but marvel at; but, when everyone’s attention snapped to him, his hand dropped back to his side and his demeanor immediately shifted, became colder, more imperious. His next words were more self-assured. “On both occasions when the Lachis’ka and myself successfully created a barrier, the moons were out and one of them was in eclipse.”
Ishan’s dark eyes went as round as the celestial bodies in question. Talasyn had come to know her as an inquisitive woman by nature, and now she saw Ishan’s mind churning with this new revelation. “Yes. That does make sense. Countless feats of aethermancy are tied to the natural world. Rainsingers in lands to the south can reportedly communicate with one another across great distances by looking into fresh puddles, while Firedancers to the east can do so in the flames of wildfire. I’ve certainly never heard of light and shadow magic forming a greater whole before, but a lunar eclipse strikes me as the prime moment for such a phenomenon to occur.” She rounded on her gaggle of Enchanters with alacrity, demanding, “When is the next one?”