House of Eclipses by Casey L. Bond

13

Saric woke me, the eldest priest pushing my door open and gently saying my name. I blinked, raised my slumped neck and sat up straighter, giving him a smile. “I must have dozed off.”

“I’m sorry to have woken you, Atena,” he apologized, stopping just inside the room.

“I’m glad you did.”

He held something in his hand, a tome, a very old one by the look of it. “I thought you might like to learn a little about the first Atens. It’s good for a young person to know their heritage before carving a future for themselves.”

I swung my legs down from the window seat and moved to hold the desk chair out, helping him down into it. “These old bones,” he sweetly cursed. “Growing old might be the greatest battle I’ve fought in this life.” He panted as he rested in the seat. “I’ve not seen physical war, but have waged a spiritual one for Sol every day of my life since taking my oath.”

He adjusted his position and cracked the book open to the first of many brittle pages, looking over the page as he told me to reclaim my window seat and make myself comfortable, warning me that old men were notorious for their ability to talk for hours.

I hoped that adage was right. I enjoyed his company, and in Helios rarely had the opportunity to enjoy it. Saric’s visit warmed my heart.

“Over the years, Sol has chosen Atens. Your father is the seventh.” He smiled. “I know what your instructors have told you, and some of what they’ve said is truth. Some, however, isn’t. You were taught that the Great Divide was sudden and unexpected. Lumos and Sol had lived for millennia in peace, sharing the sky and guarding their creations – those who dwelt below on the earth. The first people were formed by the Sculptor, who even made Sol and Lumos. He gave this new race everything they might need to survive. Water for their bodies. Air for their lungs. Nourishment, until the seeds they gave them to plant grew and could be harvested. The list goes on and on. And for centuries, things were good.”

I knew this from my studies.

“What your instructors never told you was that Lumos and Sol were lovers, and that when they appeared in the same sky, or the rare eclipse happened when their paths aligned, blessings rained down on the people of earth. No one is sure what drove them apart.”

I quietly wondered if that could be true. Her fixed position was burning away our water and food, turning our kingdom to sand and ash.

“You’ve likely been taught that Sol proposed a truce, encapsulated in a separation unlike any the earth has seen before or since.”

“The Great Divide.”

He nodded. “The scrolls say that the two gods touched one last time, their hands each holding a great axe with which they cleaved the earth, dividing it between them. Sol drifted into the northern sky and claimed every soul on her lands, while Lumos ventured south. Many centuries afterward, each declared an heir, someone who would act as their representative on earth, a chosen one to carry a tiny amount of the god’s power within their hearts.”

I looked down, picking at my nails. He said that some of what we’d been taught was true and some wasn’t. That part couldn’t possibly be true. Father would have to possess a heart for it to be real. His cinder heart wouldn’t be able to contain the greatness and power of Sol. Unless Sol herself had incinerated it somehow, leaving the cinder behind to claim my mother, dead and innocent of what he’d accused.

Saric gently eased the book closed. “The first Aten was a woman of great virtue. She was also a meticulous record-keeper, as her father was a scribe and she’d trained to take his place. She kept many journals, and it was she who was responsible for many of the carvings adorning the inside of the temple. As she was first, she felt it was her duty to write her history down. But more than that, she began a tradition. This book,” he said, holding it out to me, “has been passed from Aten to Aten. Each has contributed and added his or her own section so the history of the Aten is never forgotten. I think that once you read the true history, your view of it might change.”

How so? I wondered. “I can’t accept this. I’m afraid to even touch it.”

“It is yours, Noor. As Atena, you could be the one Sol chooses.”

I shook my head. “Father will recommend Zarina.”

He offered a satisfied smile. “I think you’ll see that Sol is the decider of all things, and does not always heed what – or who – is recommended.”

Saric insisted I take the book and told me to keep it until I read every word, even if that meant taking it to Lumina when we departed the dusk lands. Then he tried to stand. I helped him up and steadied him as he walked across the room.

“Why doesn’t Father have this book?”

He pursed his lips. “He added all he wished just after he was chosen, then gave it to us to keep until the next Aten is named. We’ve had it ever since. I really must go now. I’m afraid my body demands rest.”

Concerned, I kept my hand on his arm. “Can I walk you somewhere?”

He shook his head. “I walked up the staircases, Atena. I can walk back down them. I’m just not as spry as I used to be.”

At that moment, Kiran jogged up the steps, not even winded, and I couldn’t have been more grateful. Saric was unsteady and too stubborn to let me assist him. Fortunately, he didn’t mind Kiran assisting him, accepting an arm to cling to and another around his back. Kiran’s gaze met mine for a moment before he slowly started down the steps, one at a time.

I turned my back to see Citali there, leaning against the wall, twisting a leg out and in, her arms crossed. “Was it your idea or Caelum’s to send Beron to me this morning?”

I ignored her and walked back down the hall. She followed me into my room and noticed the book right away. “Since when do you read?”

“Since always. Haven’t you paid attention all these years, sister?” I asked in a nonchalant tone, knowing that if I outwardly placed importance on the book, she would demand to see it.

She rolled her eyes and returned to her earlier tirade, the book forgotten. “What did you and Caelum do this morning?”

My brows rose. “We ate breakfast,” I responded as if she were daft.

“You weren’t downstairs,” she accused.

I thought Beron would be able to distract her. It sounded more like she led him on a great hunt to find us instead. I felt bad for Caelum’s brother, but only for a second.

“We ate on the ship.”

She put a fist on her hip. “When will I get equal time?”

I sighed heavily and trudged back to the table, where I picked up the book before climbing back into the window seat. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Citali, but I’m not Caelum. If you want time with him, you’ll have to ask him for it. Not me.”

“How can I, when you take up his every waking hour?” she seethed.

I grinned. “Then perhaps that should tell you something.”

If looks could scorch, I’d lay in ashes.

Tired of our squabble, I rolled my eyes and cracked open the tome Saric loaned me, pretending to slowly scan the page. Loaned, because though he said it was mine to read, it was his to protect.

Citali was wrong. I wasn’t monopolizing Caelum’s time. I would if he’d let me, but I wouldn’t push him. He wanted both of us to go to Lumina so he could make his decision based on what he learned from us here – and there – and see which of us, if either, Lumos felt was worthy of his chosen. And in fairness, we needed to get to know him here, as well as there, and see if he met our standards as well.

A thought struck me. Had Caelum informed Citali that she and I were leaving with them in only a few days?

“Have you packed your trunks?” I tested.

“I’m not going home just because you had breakfast together,” she snapped. “I’ll just have to try harder.”

I took a calming breath. “That’s not why I suggested it. Caelum asked Father before we even left Helios if we would travel to Lumina to see if we’d like living in the dark kingdom. Father just never mentioned that tidbit to us. And as Father is particularly determined, negotiations are progressing faster than expected.”

Her mouth gaped in surprise. “When will we leave?”

“The ball was moved up and will be held Wednesday night. We’ll set sail Thursday morning.”

Beyond the excitement glittering in her dark eyes, there was cunning. She’d never looked more like Father in that moment. It frightened me to see that familiar hatred flare. I wanted to claw her eyes out just so I didn’t have to look at them again. To see him reflected in them.

If we’d had any other man as our father, would we behave this way?

She turned and left the room, carelessly slamming the door in her wake.

I read the words of the first Aten, in her own hand, and her story was one of awe, wonderment, and gratefulness. She felt unworthy to have been chosen. She was humble. She was everything my father was not, and I was determined to know why Sol chose him after beginning her legacy with such a perfect choice.

But first, dinner.

Still dressed in the red-purple dress that more aptly resembled a deep, fresh bruise, I made my way downstairs to find that though no formal dinner was being presented, prepared food waited for us in the great hall. I filled a plate and sat down. A servant swiftly placed two goblets in front of me, one holding water and the other wine. I thanked her and she took her position along the wall again, scanning the area nearest her to see if anyone needed anything.

The chandeliers were low again, casting warm light over the space.

Someone sat down across the table from me and I looked up into Beron’s smiling, handsome face. “Have you been sent to distract me this time?”

He laughed. “No, I was just hungry and sought out the most beautiful girl in the room for company.”

I looked around as if searching for something or someone. He glanced over one shoulder, then the other. “Are you looking for Caelum?” he asked, crestfallen.

“No, I’m looking for the creature you described,” I teased. “I expect you meant my sister. I’ve noticed that distracting her is not exactly a chore for you.”

His dimple popped and I sipped my wine, satisfied that my barb hit its mark.

“The two of you couldn’t be more different,” he noted, cutting into steaming, tender meat.

He was right about that. Citali and I were as opposite as Lumos and Sol. I still couldn’t grasp that the two gods had once loved one another, but I supposed that perhaps in childhood, Citali and I had, too. Children had innocent hearts and few burdens to fill them.

A clap of thunder made me flinch and my thumb punched into my bread loaf. I eased it out as another chair was dragged to the small table. Caelum grinned. “Still not used to the sound?”

“I didn’t know another storm had built.” My eyes drifted to the terraces on the other side of the room.

“You want to go outside, don’t you?” Caelum asked.

His hair was a little mussed, but it looked so soft. My fingers inched toward him and I tucked my hands under the table. “I do.”

Beron grinned. “Citali was frightened by the storm this morning, but you don’t seem to be afraid at all.”

“I’m not, and neither is she,” I told him, then focused on Caelum. “My sister fears nothing but being nothing. Our father’s rage is far more deadly than light bolting from the sky. She’s lying. She’s playing you to get sympathy.”

Caelum sat back and crossed his arms. “And you aren’t?” A teasing smile hung in the corner of his lips, but his crystalline eyes held a challenge.

“No,” I said, taking a sip of water. “I most certainly am.”

Beron burst out laughing and craned his head back, groaning. “Lumos, save me. She’s perfect. If you don’t want her, brother, just say the word.”

Caelum shook his head, a full smile now stretching over his handsome face. “Noor, you are dazzlingly dark to be named for such brilliant, divine light.”

My inner phoenix purred, wondering how he knew the meaning of my name.

After finishing the meal, I walked to the terrace, which was partially covered and protected from the rain unless a gust pushed the droplets sideways. Caelum joined me. Things were easier to keep in perspective when others were around. Beron at dinner, for example. A table of people, like at the feast. But the moment Caelum and I were left alone, I forgot what I needed and let my heart ruin what my mind had fastidiously planned.

The private breakfast where I’d spilled our dramatic history, standing with him in the garden where we’d shared an intimate kiss, even dancing with him when it felt like we were the only two in the room was dangerous.

So, I quickly built a mental wall between us and imagined my sister’s face and puckered lips chiseled into it.

“Where is Citali?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“She didn’t know we were going to Lumina. I told her.”

He nodded, thrusting his hands in the pockets of his dark trousers.

“I think you should spend time with her this evening,” I told him.

His brows furrowed.

“It’s only fair, Caelum. To her and to you. You have no control over which of us Lumos will approve of. If you get too attached to one of us and Lumos chooses the other, what happens then?” I stared out at the rain, unable to focus on a single drop. Only his frustrated breaths.

“I’d rather stay here with you,” he said, trying to take my hand.

I pulled mine away and crossed my arms. “I’d rather be alone.” It was a lie. Not my first or last, but the greatest in many ways.

He lingered. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I’m sure.”

A deep, frustrated exhale came from over my shoulder. “Do you want me to fetch Beron?” he asked, concern lancing his pretty features.

“I need no company or watchdog, Caelum.”

I’d survived for years alone. I could certainly survive an hour. I could survive years of solitude if I had to. My walks into the sand and the seemingly infinite days and nights I’d spent alone after Mother’s death had taught me that.

“It feels like you’re intentionally pushing me away, Noor,” he rasped.

“I’m not.” But I was. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him. “So much has happened in such a short time; I just need time to think about everything.”

“Are you still undecided about going home with me?” he asked.

“Caelum…”

He put his hands up. “Your message is perfectly clear, Noor. I won’t bother you again this evening.”

As his footsteps trailed away, each made an ache resonate through my chest. I’d let him get too close again. I’d given too much and hadn’t gotten an inch closer to the crown.

I had to put distance between us for a time. For me.

So, that evening while he spent time with Citali, I spent time with the storm.

Her thunder was my heart. Her lightning, my blood.