House of Eclipses by Casey L. Bond

15

That night, I lay awake in bed for hours, unable to quiet my turbulent mind. It was so hard to tell the time here, but somewhere in the middle of restlessness, I rose and walked to the bathing room, smiling when I saw Vada had left more of the aromatic salts there.

I went downstairs to the kitchens and found the embers still warm in the hearth. Like the hide of a fiery beast, they flared from blue to red to yellow and orange, writhing as if they were desperate to hoard the heat and stop it from escaping.

“Noor?” someone said from behind me.

I turned, surprised. “Vada?” She nodded. Caelum’s mother wore a thick, silver robe. She’d combed her matching hair that fell straight to her shoulders and didn’t dare stretch an inch farther. “What are you doing up so late?”

She held up a cup. “Tea. I’m an early riser. For my entire youth, I woke long before my mistresses. The habit is a difficult one to break. Why are you awake?”

“I was going to heat some water for a bath.”

“Are you feeling well?” she asked, sitting her cup down on one of the long, wooden counters that were riddled with slices and scars.

I waved off her concern. “I’m fine. I just have an important meeting this morning.”

“How important?”

“How important is the Wolven to Luminans?” Her eyes rounded and I nodded. “Yeah. I’m meeting with Helios’s Sphinx.”

“No wonder you’re too nervous to sleep.”

Nervous. Upset. Confused. Distraught. Overwhelmed. Terrified. She could’ve named any or all and been right.

She moved around the kitchen and found two enormous pots. We each hefted one to the back door where Vada asked a pair of Luminan guards in their stiff, dark blue uniforms to fetch some water for us. They didn’t complain or say it was beneath their station. They each inclined their head to Vada respectfully and told her they’d return as quickly as possible. And they did. It only took a few minutes.

“That was fast,” I said as they carried the water inside and hung the pots over the fire for us. I thanked them before they went back to their posts. Each gave a slight, deferential bow and left us alone again. Vada gathered wood from a stack along the wall and began throwing split pieces into the fire. “Wait!” I said, bringing my own pile. “Fire needs air. If you stack it so that it can breathe, it will roar to life in no time.”

Vada sat back on her haunches and gestured to the hearth. “Queen of flame, please show me.”

I offered a wan smile.

“One does not have to wear a crown to be exactly that,” Vada offered softly. “My mother was a queen. If she was still alive, she still would be, and she never had two silvers to rub together long. She’d certainly never believe in a million years that my son, her grandson, was chosen as Lumin. Lumos blessed us that day, but I’d like to think he’s well-pleased in his choice.”

“Caelum is exceptional.”

“Yes. He is,” she said, meeting my eyes and holding them. She stacked her wood in the pattern I’d showed her and before long, the fires roared the way I promised they would. She sighed. “I don’t pretend to know your heart, or your sister’s, but as a mother, as Caelum’s mother, I hope you don’t break his heart vying for power or prestige just because you’re not likely to inherit the role of Aten.”

“Sol can choose any of the Aten’s three daughters as her heir,” I defended weakly.

She pressed her lips together. “How many third borns have ever served as Aten?”

“None.” Most were first borns. One was a second son. Never had there been a third, fourth, fifth born, or beyond in the line of succession. But Sol was a goddess of firsts, I tried to remind myself.

“I don’t seek a title,” I told her honestly. “I’ve never truly believed Sol would choose me either, but beyond that, it’s not a position or a crown that drives me.”

Her eyes sharpened when the word crown fell from my lips. “What does drive you, Noor?”

“Freedom,” I rasped, staring at the fire wistfully.

The flames were free. They danced along the wood we’d fed them. Roared and flared. Sparked. I listened as the wood snapped and popped under the fire’s attention and wondered…

If I was part flame, what would I seek to consume?

Father’s face drifted into my mind, overlaid onto the wood in the hearth. The only way I could truly be free was to incinerate him and damn his plans to ruin Caelum and Lumina.

The only tangible way to protect Caelum, Beron, and Vada, the kind guards and their families, their very way of life… was to strip all power away from my father. And to do that, I had to be stronger than him. If Sol did not choose me as her Aten, only a Lumin could stand against him.

She glanced behind her, over each shoulder. “You are more powerful than Citali. You have fire in your hands.”

I stiffened. “How do you know that?”

“The table outside. The chair in the Aten’s room. Most of all, by the whispers.”

“Rumors are often wrong,” I volleyed.

“Is this one?”

I blew out a breath, noting that the water was beginning to steam. Silky tendrils danced upward. They dissolved, only to be replaced by more. A cycle of life not unlike our own.

“Are you saying Citali shares your ability?”

“Citali has never melted or burned things, no. But maybe her ability hasn’t manifested yet.”

Vada was still for a moment as we knelt there on the floor in front of the hearth. “Are you coming with us? Caelum said you’re unsure.”

“I’m not sure he wants me to. I think I upset him.”

She stood. “I’m not sure there’s anything you could do to temper his feelings for you.”

“How can he feel anything for me? He barely knows me.”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t care. My son follows his heart – always – and his heart guides him to you. Regardless of his reservations or what it might mean for Lumina, he intends to present you to Lumos.”

My lips parted. My heart filled with joy and hope and a million perfect things for which I had no words. And as soon as my heart felt them all, a fissure formed in her side and all those wonderful feelings spilled away. My heart inexplicably, despite my plans, was guiding me to Caelum, but even as she wanted him, she was still willing and determined to break him if it saved him and everyone and everything he loved.

“You really can’t feel how much he longs to be near you?” she asked, her face softening.

“I thought he liked Citali just as much.”

She shook her head and gestured to the roaring fire. “No. His feelings for her would not kindle a fire, let alone encourage it to burn.”

Could Vada be right? I wasn’t sure what to think or say, so I kept quiet.

“I’ll have these carried to your rooms if you’d like to go let them in.”

I nodded and turned to leave, then stopped. “Vada?” I asked over my shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, a confused smile on her lips.

“My mother was taken from me when I was only seven, but for the past few days, you’ve reminded me of her.”

Vada clutched her chest and tears crept into her eyes. “Thank you.”

I fought to give her a grateful smile, my chin wobbling and my eyes welling to match hers. I nodded once and walked out of the kitchens.

On the staircase, I allowed my tears to fall. I couldn’t hold them in any longer. I stifled them as soon as I could muster the strength, but it took three flights of stairs before I got myself under control again and reined in all the feelings trying to pour out.

This place was weakening me. I hadn’t cried since the day I carried Mother into the sand.

I unlocked my room and waited for the hot water to arrive. My trembling fingers pressed against my lips. Before I left Helios, I thought this would be easy. I told myself to pretend and sneak and steal this crown. The one who wore it would never matter to me.

Then I met Caelum and everything changed.

An insatiable ache formed in my chest and I hated myself for what I still had to do.

The two guards who’d fetched the water for Vada arrived at my room a few minutes later. I held the door wide open and waved them inside. They emptied the heavy pots into the small bathing tub, worried it wasn’t full enough, and offered to get me more water. I promised them it would more than suffice for my needs and thanked them for helping me in the middle of the night. They told me it was their pleasure and that the nights could grow monotonous with so little to keep them busy, then left to take up their positions again.

The salts quickly dissolved when I poured them into the hot water; their heady aroma filled the small bathing room. The water was not boiling, but it was deliciously hot. I scrubbed my hair with a sliver of remaining soap, scoured my skin until it felt raw, and sat back in the not-nearly-full tub.

The first time I saw the Sphinx’s shadow was the day I carried my mother into the sand. She didn’t appear until Saric and I were far into the dunes, but her shadow darted over our heads and I remembered Saric falling to his knees, bowing his head and holding Mother’s urn in his hands, muttering prayers to Sol. I knelt with him, unsure what to do, shielding my eyes from Sol’s face while trying to catch a glimpse of the lioness.

I wondered what she looked like. She was called a lioness but was said to be part human, though one who could fly. Some claimed she was terrible to look upon. Others swore she was the most beautiful thing anyone would see in their lifetime. Could both descriptions be true?

I toweled off and sat in the steamy, warm air until the vapor dissipated and the room cooled. I padded to the armoire and opened the door, observing the interior filled with clothing. Father thought we would be here for weeks while the negotiations took place. We’d packed with those expectations in mind, but it had only been days. Days.

After less than a week, Father managed to convince Caelum that he truly wanted peace and an alliance between our kingdoms who’d been separated since the Great Divide, even when no Aten before him would dare make such a deal. He made promises he had no intention of keeping. His nefarious plans had nothing to do with the treaty the two men would sign later today, and everything to do with Citali or I infiltrating Lumina to find that crown.

For a brief moment, I wondered if any of this truly mattered or if we were just fooling ourselves into thinking we could possibly control or manipulate one of the gods.

I selected a gauzy black dress. It would expose my back from the dimples at my hips to the wide collar encircling my neck but would hide the lingering bruises too stubborn to fade completely away. I dressed quickly and didn’t bother with sandals. If we were to meet her early, I didn’t want anyone hearing me leave my rooms or walking the hallways and ask questions as to where I was going. How would we know when to go to her or where to find her?

Combing my hair, I waited in the windowsill for it to dry, still unsure of the hour and crawling with nervousness and fear.

My hair was still damp when a knock came at the door, but when I opened it, no one was there. Movement caught my eye, not from a person, but from a broad shadow that swept down the wall. I followed it, somehow knowing the knock came from the dark figure, and also to whom the shadow belonged.

Instead of walking down the staircase, the shadow continued past it, down the opposite side of the hallway, and disappeared up a small flight of steps I never would have known were there.

The narrow steps ended when I came to a door. I pushed it open and emerged on the roof of the House of Dusk.

Heights had never scared me, until I turned to find the Sphinx waiting. She was enormous, the size of a giant with golden fur covering her body. Her legs and abdomen were muscled beneath shorter fur. Her mane was a shade darker and served as hair, drifting down her back and cascading down to cover her breasts. Her feline tail was tufted at its end, the same dark gold of her mane. She flared her wings and a gasp flew from my chest.

They were magnificent. I couldn’t tell if they were solid or soft, but unlike her fur which looked animalistic, her wings were something other… They were iridescent, then turned translucent as she flexed and then tucked them into her back.

A thin coat of fur covered her face, which looked nothing at all like a lion’s, but looked like the most ferocious woman I’ve ever clamped eyes on. She sat on her haunches, large front paws bolstering her proud chest. Her solid black, fathomless eyes had no whites or pupils. As she watched me, she tilted her head.

She opened her lips. “Atena Noor.”

I swallowed a knot of fear at the sound. It would have frightened me less if she’d let out a thunderous roar, or at the very least, if a deep, fearsome tone had resonated from her chest to chill my bones, but the Sphinx did not roar and her voice did not strike fear because it was dangerous. My body began to quake because the Sphinx sounded like a small child.

Kneeling before her, I inclined my head respectfully and waited.

“Rise, Atena. We don’t have much time,” she chirped.

I raised my head and met her eye.

“You are clothed in indignation and bravery, where your sister wears fear. It is her weakness.”

“Which sister are you speaking of?”

The Sphinx grinned. “Clever girl. Do you enjoy riddles?”

“No,” I answered honestly, afraid to lie.

My legs quivered uncontrollably. I had never wanted to run in fear from anything so much in my life, yet I was completely transfixed and didn’t want to turn away. The rumors were right. She was a terrible beauty.

The Sphinx’s black eyes twinkled. “I love them. I gave your sister a riddle. I wonder if she’ll unfurl it before it’s too late.”

“You came all the way here for word games?”

She readjusted her front paws, muscles flexing beneath her fur. “I flew here to see you. I only met with her to conceal this conversation, and to warn her that if she ever tries anything as foolish as to try and poison you again, I’ll carry her into the sky, use my claws to spill her guts, and let them rain over Helios. She’ll never reach the hereafter if she kills you. Sol will reject her entirely.”

“Why does Sol care what happens to me?”

The Sphinx slowly blinked. “I came to provide answers to exactly three questions. Choose them quickly and wisely. While I’m here, Helios is unguarded.”

My stomach plummeted. “Is my kingdom in danger?”

She smiled. “The answer to your first question is yes. Helios is in danger. But dear Noor, is the threat from within, without, or both?”

I winced and mentally cursed myself for not thinking before I spoke. Father had tried for years to teach me that habit. Perhaps the Sphinx would finally succeed…

“Ask from your heart, Noor. Not your head,” she advised.

My heart? “Does Caelum truly want to present me to Lumos as his choice?”

Vada had said so, but he was so spent the last time we talked privately. So torn.

“That is his intention right now, but… many decisions and paths lay between intention and actuality.”

So, it could change.

A question roared through my mind and I spoke it before I could decide if it was the right final thing to ask her. “How can I defeat my father?”

She gave a feral smile. “There you go.” She prowled forward, then circled me. I should’ve felt like prey, but my heart thundered that we were both predators in our own right, that I was her equal at the very least. That the fire in my veins would scorch her before she could extend her claws. Finally satisfied, and with that same wicked grin, she stopped in front of me.

“That was three questions, Noor. The sands of time have run out.”

“You haven’t answered my final question.” I reached out to her, stopping when she growled.

“Don’t touch me, Atena,” she warned, her childlike voice deepening into something that struck terror in my heart. If lightning and thunder could speak, it would’ve been less frightening.

I tucked my hands behind me, bowing low. “I meant no disrespect, Sphinx. I hold a firm belief that my father is the threat to Helios. I need something more specific than the answer you gave. Something tangible. I’m terrible with riddles, remember?” I asked, keeping my eyes on her as she seemed to loom taller, larger.

“You have courage and humility, Noor, a powerful combined weapon if you brandish it well against your father. But you are distracted because you seek the thing you do not need.” She paused, seeming to consider me, my question, and its answer all at the same time. But many more blew through my mind, like sand scooped and scattered in a gust of wind.

I didn’t have time for this. A riddle. She said she’d given Citali one and now she’d given one to me. One I didn’t want to waste my time attempting to unfurl. She said that I was distracted yet offered another, worse distraction. If she could only speak plainly, this conversation would be meaningful.

Where is the crown of moonlight hidden, and is there any chance Citali or I will find it? Would stealing it truly make me the Lumin? What will happen if Citali gets her claws on it first? Has Sol already made Zarina her Aten? Can Father be both Aten and Lumin? Would Sol and Lumos allow it?

I pressed my eyes closed.

Will Caelum hate me if I take his power and crown away? Would being Lumin allow me to end Father’s reign? And, is that what Sol wants? What does the goddess truly want? Freedom? Is she truly a hostage in her own sky, or did she choose stillness over movement?

The Sphinx shrank away, wincing, a great paw raking over her forehead. “Calm your thoughts, Atena.”

“You can hear them?” I asked.

The Sphinx laughed in her tinkling, childlike voice. “Sol will guide you, Noor, in light and in darkness.” She flapped her translucent, golden wings once, twice, then pushed off the roof with her muscular legs, launching high into the sky. This time, I didn’t need to guard my eyes from Sol’s face. In the moody, clouded sky, I watched until the Sphinx flew too far to see.

Her voice filled my mind. “Here is something more meaningful, Noor.”

And then… I wasn’t on the roof at all, but seated in my father’s room at the long, golden table, in the chair with melted arms. I shrank against the chair back as he strode through wearing his finest kilt, gold held up with a thick, golden belt. His head and face were freshly shaved. Golden laces vined up his legs to his knee. It was what he would wear to a great event…

A ball.

I tensed, waiting for him to see me, for him to scream and rant and tell me to leave, but he didn’t notice I was there. In his hands was a small book no bigger than his palm.

The dark binding was worn thin. The leather was cracked in places. Part of me separated from my body and a translucent version of me rose and walked to him. When a knock came at the door, he tucked it into a hidden pocket on his right hip. See-through me grinned over her shoulder, then walked up behind him and eased a ghostly version of the book from the pocket where he’d hidden it.

I swallowed thickly and clutched at the chair arms to find they were melted away.

Heat pressed down upon me from overhead and I breathed deeply and calmly. Sol. I was standing now, feet punching through crusted sand as I made my way to the sacred place I knew by heart. The white bones I’d carried shone in white mounds atop the red-orange dune. Sol flared above, and comforting waves of heat poured over me.

I sat with my mother and told her everything that had happened since I left – my worries, my fear that I would be gone longer than expected, and how I missed her so badly it hurt.

Grief and the loneliness it left behind were a well that never seemed to run dry.

No amount of Sol’s fire could burn it away.

I stared at her bones beside me as a shadow passed over them. I shielded my eyes and saw her there… the Sphinx. She smiled at me, flapped her great wings, and launched into the sky. Her shadow circled me for a moment before streaking over the dunes, carving a path I knew led straight to Helios.

And suddenly, I was back on the rooftop, surrounded by gray once more. I clutched my chest, feeling the distance between Mother and me, between Sol and me, once again tearing at my heart. The warmth from Sol slowly faded from my skin as I considered what the Sphinx showed me and the kindness she’d done in letting me see the one I needed most.

I needed that book. I needed to steal it and take it with me, and that meant it had to be done tonight, during the ball. After Father woke, he would know it was gone.

I needed help.

Pinching my lip, a thought struck me. I think I know where to find it.