House of Eclipses by Casey L. Bond

22

I went to sleep in total darkness. Lumos was gone and his light left with him. I hadn’t lit a candle, but knew where one waited on the desk. When I woke, the moon god still hadn’t returned. I felt my way to the taper and struck the match, feeling comforted by the warm flame that caught on the waxy wick.

My hair was snarled, and I wasn’t sure anything but washing it would help. My things –including my comb – were still packed, but beyond that, I needed water. And soap. I suddenly wished I hadn’t used the last of Vada’s salts.

A soft knock came at the door.

I walked to it and waited. Citali’s stunt had set me thoroughly on edge. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Caelum answered. “The moon will rise soon. I wondered if you might want to watch it from the beach.” He paused. “I have a blanket and packed breakfast.”

Him and his breakfasts. I loved it.

“I look hideous,” I warned. “All my things are still packed away. I don’t even know where my brush is.”

“You could never look hideous, Noor.”

More pressing than my vanity, I didn’t know what to do with the book. I was afraid to take it near the water, but couldn’t leave it in the room.

“Can I see you?”

I cracked the door open.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to hide it,” I whispered. “I don’t want it to be ruined by the brine or water.”

He nodded. “Can I step inside for a moment to show you something?

I eased the door open and let him in.

A basket draped in a blanket lay near his feet. He strode in and closed the door. Beside the armoire where the wall looked smooth like glass, he touched one of the tiles and it gave way, revealing a hinged door that opened into a small, hidden compartment. “It’ll be safe here. Beron and I are the only ones who know it exists.”

“Can I trust him?”

Caelum sighed. “We had a lengthy discussion this morning and he told me about his role with the poisoned jam. I know it probably doesn’t seem like it after what he did, but I’m convinced he had my best interests at heart. I swear you can trust him.”

“How long have you been awake?”

He smiled. “Awhile.”

I took the book from my pocket and slid it into the sleek compartment, closing the tile again. It blended seamlessly.

“One minute?” I asked.

He nodded once. “We have a little time before he rises.”

I rushed to my trunks and flung open each lid, rifling through them until I found my toothbrush and the mint and sand water with which to clean them. I rejoiced when I found my comb, then ran with the items to the bathing room, where pitch darkness met me. Caelum’s footsteps approached and I turned to see him holding the candle. “You’ll need this.”

I thanked him and he waited outside while I freshened up as best I could.

My dress snapped in the cool wind as we walked through the Luminan sand, so different from that of Helios. It was cold and soft, powdery but thick. The sky was filled with so many stars, it was startling. Their light did little for my vision as I picked my way across the beach, holding uneasily to Caelum’s arm. “How can you see?”

“I was born to it,” he said smoothly. “I’m as used to the darkness as you are to Sol’s light and heat. I think if you stayed here for a time, you would adapt and adjust to it.”

Where the waves had swept the shore overnight, the sand had hardened. Caelum found a flat spot and spread the blanket, then we quickly sat on it to keep it from blowing away.

Caelum whispered to the sky and the wind died away. Over the water, the sky lightened, leeching from black to deep blue. I could see Caelum a little better, unsure if the sky’s alteration was a trick of the eye and mine were becoming accustomed to the darkness, or if Lumos was closer than I thought.

“That was a neat trick.”

“Lumos is helpful, and he’s curious about you. He could sense your mother through you last night.”

“He loves her,” I told him as he arranged the spread of food. “And she still loves him.”

“I know,” he said. “His feelings for her are very loud.”

“Do you hear him?”

He shook his head. “It’s more of a feeling. Here.” His hand landed on his taut stomach. “But somehow, what he gives me is never unclear.”

There were small plates holding an unusual yellow fruit and I laughed. “Is this as sour as the last one you fed me?”

He flashed a smile and shook his head. “It’s sweet.” I quirked a brow. “I promise!” he chuckled. “Try a piece.”

I took a sliver of the slimy, cool fruit and bit into it. A sweet taste burst over my tongue, exploding with citrus, with a hint of something bitter hidden in the sugary flesh. “It’s good,” I admitted.

“Told you.” He took up his own piece, smiling triumphantly before chewing. He prepared a piece of bread as I tried to focus through the darkness. “Jam?” he asked.

“You’re preparing my food.” My ribs tightened.

“I am.” His tone was completely unapologetic.

“Don’t you know what that would imply?” I tried to tease, my mouth going dry.

He tilted his head. “I think I’ve made my feelings clear. Do you want jam, Noor?”

“Is it nightthorn jam?”

He snorted. “It’s the kind you liberally smeared all over everything while we were in the dusk lands. Morning fruit. It’s orange in color.”

Mmmm. I loved that kind. I raised my chin. “Very well. You can prepare it for me, since I cannot see to do it myself without spreading it all over my dress.”

Through the darkness, I heard him grin.

Heard him smear.

Felt him scoot closer.

“Open your mouth,” he said in a gravelly tone. It wasn’t necessary that he feed me, but he wanted to. Caelum said his feelings for me were clear. Now, he was weighing mine.

My phoenix did as he instructed, parting her beak and flapping her fiery wings.

My lips parted, too. I waited until the soft bread, smeared perfectly with the orange morning fruit, touched them. With my teeth, I tore a piece away.

He watched me as I chewed.

Suddenly, I realized I could see him. My head swiveled toward the sea where the very top of Lumos’s face peeked over the horizon. I gasped, turning to tell Caelum how magnificent the moon god’s soothing light was as it struck every facet of the sea, when my nose brushed Caelum’s and his lips captured mine. When he pulled away, there was an emotion on his face I didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t worry, but one of longing. “I don’t know what the book said, and I don’t want to discuss it this morning. But I want you to know that whatever you need from me, I will provide. Whatever decision you make, I will honor. Whatever time I have with you, I will cherish – whether it be a handful of days, or the rest of my days, Noor.”

I swallowed thickly. “What if I can’t stay?”

His lashes fluttered. “I think that if you and I want this, Sol and Lumos will make a path so we can meet in the middle. Or we can stubbornly make one ourselves.”

I hoped he was right.

“Did you send for the riverfarer and launch the falcon with my note?”

“I did. Is your falconer loyal to your father?”

I snorted. “He is loyal to whomever rewards him better. In my letter, I vowed it would be me. He will give the message to your mother and tell the riverfarer the fare I will pay to take her and Lumos’s priests back to the dusk lands.”

“A ship is already sailing north.”

I nodded. Good. I hoped Lumos filled their sails and saw them safely there.

“Thank you for your concern for them. For making a path to ensure their safety,” he said pointedly.

Sometimes, I got a flicker of an image of what it might be if such a path could be made from Helios to Lumina, from my heart to his. It was beautiful, golden and pale blue, woven in fire and frost. But it seemed that when I reached out and tried to touch that scene, it dissipated like smoke and I couldn’t ever catch hold of it.

“We’d like to host a quiet dinner tonight in honor of your arrival, but if it’s too soon after Saric’s passing, we can wait.”

“If Saric was here and I told him that I could ask you to wait and hold the banquet another day, he’d scold me and say something like, ‘Life is meant to be lived; waiting only eats away at the time you’ve got left.’ He would hate it if anything was postponed because of him.”

With his thumb, he smoothed the worry line between my brows. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I am.”

“Do you want Citali there?” he asked.

I knew he’d lock her in her rooms if I asked. I tried not to bristle at his concern for my sister. My anger lay with her. “She and I need to have a talk. I’ll decide after that.”

He nodded. “More than fair.”

I knew he said he didn’t want to talk about the book, but I needed to tell him, to prepare him, for what was about to happen. “Caelum –”

He stiffened at my tone. “The book?”

I nodded. “My seventeenth birthday is in a few days. Something will happen then. It’s already begun.”

“To you?”

“Yes.”

He swallowed thickly. “What will happen to you, Noor?”

“I will become Aten.”

Caelum’s beautiful lips parted.

“I know what Father told you, but Sol will not accept Zarina. Neither will she accept Citali.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his chest rising and falling like the soft waves curling onto the shore. “How can you be sure? Was it written in the book?”

I swallowed and took hold of his hand, nervous about telling him what I knew I must. “I am Sol’s daughter and heir. She came to the earth for a time in physical form, and she married my father and gave birth to me. Then she was forced to leave it, and me, behind.”

He turned my wrist so the bracelet sparkled against the moonlight. “The diamonds.”

I nodded. “It’s why I can wear them when they burn anything else.” Their constant warmth encircled my ankle, reassuring and comforting me.

“And also why you have them when your sisters do not. And why there is fire in your touch when you’re angry. The glow in your eyes. You have her light, too,” he said reverently.

“Just a touch,” I confirmed.

“A touch now, but how much when you come of age?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure what to expect, but I know that I will burn as she burns. I’m meant to.”

Lumos was almost completely above the horizon, only his chin leaking into the sea now. “I have his frost in my blood,” he croaked.

I nodded. “I noticed when you tossed Beron from my rooms. When did he give it to you?”

“On my seventeenth birthday. I’m nineteen now. I won’t lie and say it wasn’t painful,” he added wryly. “Our bodies think they’re too frail to contain the power of a god, but as Lumin, I only have a touch. How much will Sol bestow upon you?”

“I’m not sure.” But I was almost certain it would be more than a touch. Saric had eluded to as much.

“Will you let me be there with you? For you?”

I clutched his hands tighter. “I was about to ask if you would stay with me until it was finished.”

I was afraid. Scared that despite the assurances of Saric and Sol, my flesh would be weak and unable to contain the power she shed to me. I was as mortal as she when the light of her humanity was extinguished and she was sent back to the sky. I didn’t want to die now that I had hope that living would be worth it all. Every bruise. Every hateful word, scathing look, and humiliating moment.

Every lonely hour without her. All the walls I put up between myself and those I cared for to keep them safe. Every burst vessel and golden urn. All the trips to the sand.

He stood up and offered his hand, walking backward to the water. I was afraid to feel it. “It’s okay,” he said gently. He wrapped his arms around me and held me as a cold wave rushed to cover our feet. His chin rested on top of my head. “You’ll get through this.”

“What if I boil away this beautiful sea?” I asked, worried it might be possible but trying to cling to any levity I could find in the situation.

“Then we’ll walk together on seas of sand.”