House of Eclipses by Casey L. Bond

26

Caelum refused to leave my side, afraid the change would begin any moment and I’d need his help; namely his frost to cool me and keep me from bursting into a flame so incendiary no one could put it out.

He was afraid for me, but afraid for Lumina, too.

I lay with him while he napped in my room, raking my fingers through his hair as his head lay on my chest, his arms around my waist as I reclined on a mound of pillows. The cadence of his breathing was calming and rhythmic.

Beron knocked lightly and let himself into my rooms. He tipped his chin up. “Didn’t he get enough sleep last night?” he whispered.

I shook my head, heat flooding my cheeks.

The dimple in his cheek popped as he smiled and raised his brows, likely drawing his own conclusions... which weren’t wrong. “He told me to let your sister do whatever she wanted.”

“What’s she doing?”

Beron smirked. “Sticking her nose in every nook and cranny it doesn’t belong in. She thinks we don’t know, but we can hear every move she makes. Every swish of her ridiculous skirts, every drawer she pulls out and pushes back in, every door handle she turns.”

“Your hearing is impressive.”

“That’s the least powerful of my senses.”

I smiled, mindlessly playing with Caelum’s hair and inhaling his scent. He smelled of alpine freshness mixed with saltwater and something distinctly his… Frost, I thought.

Caelum shifted, then blinked once, twice. His crystal blues settled on my face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s okay. You needed to rest.”

“I need you more,” he said.

Beron lamented, “You two are ridiculously sappy.”

Caelum lifted his head and groaned at the sight of his brother in my room.

“Good afternoon to you, too, brother.”

Caelum’s arm tensed around my back. “Afternoon?”

I nodded.

He sat up, scrubbed his eyes, blinked them, and yawned.

“I came to let you know that everything has been arranged as you requested,” Beron said, sitting up straighter.

“What has been arranged?” I asked.

Caelum shook his head once, preventing his brother from answering. “Thank you, Beron.” He tipped his head toward the door and Beron took the unsubtle hint and left us alone again.

“What is arranged?” I asked.

“I was hoping you’d have dinner with me.”

I relaxed. “Of course.”

He sat up and leaned in for a kiss. “I was also hoping to show you something before. But… tonight, you should wear something formal.”

“Formal?”

He nodded. “I want dinner to be special.”

“Okayyyyy.” I drew out the word, unsure of what exactly he had planned.

“Would you like for me to have water brought up for you?” he asked.

“That would be perfect.”

He kissed my lips once. Then kissed me again, holding the back of my head and staying that way for a long moment. I memorized the sweep of his dark lashes before he opened his eyes and pulled away.

“Meet me in a couple of hours?” he asked, standing up. I stood, too. “Kiran will be there, as will Beron. Do you want Citali to come?”

“You can leave it up to her.” She likely wouldn’t come now that her leash had been cut and she was given the freedom to snoop. I’d have to drag her home to stop her obsession with finding the crown.

He left my room, stopping to wave goodbye. I waved back, but the moment the door was closed, I pressed a hand against my stomach. He showed me the crown when his own brother hadn’t seen it.

He was frost and I was fire. He was moonlight and I was the daughter of the burning sun. I knew what she was capable of. I’d seen her heat ignite flesh and burn it to nothing.

Would the transition change my heart? My mind? Would I still be me?

I panicked in silence until it came time for my bath to be filled. Then, when I was left with only steaming water and my racing thoughts, I panicked some more.

My hair was still wet when I braided it and pinned it at the base of my head. I’d chosen a canary yellow gown made in the style of the one I’d worn to the Helioan feast in the dusk lands. The top was cropped and its skirt clung to my hips, then fell to the ground in airy layers. The fabric was silky and seemed to float as I moved. I wore my sun diamonds, of course, on my wrist and ankle. But on my neck, the teardrop-shaped moon diamonds hung.

Caelum knocked just as I finished lacing my sandals. His eyes lazily raked down me before his hands slid around my waist and eased me forward where he met me with a fervent kiss. He wore a thick, pale blue tunic tonight, with dark blue trousers tucked into glossy black boots that shone like the tile floors. “I wanted to take you to meet my father. It’s a bit of a walk, though.”

“Walking sounds perfect.” I was abuzz with nervousness.

We left the House of the Moon, skirted the river as it wended north, then cut across town through a gridwork of small, cobbled streets. People lived so tightly packed together here, their laundry was hung on lines strung across windows, close enough that they shouted back and forth to neighbors. Children scurried, dirty, through the streets, laughing and throwing discs to one another.

In the middle of the busy neighborhood was a large, fenced-in field where long slabs of stone lay over the ground in neat rows. Caelum opened the gate and led me through the rows to his father’s inscribed name. He knelt beside it and placed a hand on the cool rock. “This is my father’s grave.”

I knelt and placed my hand beside his. My fingers drifted over the nearest corner, engraved with a wide thatched pattern.

“His name was Darak. He wove nets for the fishermen. It wasn’t a high-paying job, but he loved it. He took pride in his work. And he loved me and Beron. Beron doesn’t remember him as well as I do. He was very young when he died.”

“What happened to him?”

“He collapsed one day and Mother couldn’t rouse him. He died before a healer could reach him. There was nothing to be done, anyway. It was just time for him to take his place.” Caelum glanced at the sky.

“Do you know which one is him?” I asked, regarding the starry sky.

He shook his head. “I’m not sure, but I don’t know that it matters. He’s there someplace, guiding, watching, waiting… I feel his presence even though he’s physically absent.”

“Is all of his body beneath this rock?” I asked.

His dark brows pinched.

“In Helios, when someone dies, Sol’s fire is focused on the dead. She burns away every part of a body she finds acceptable and good. What she doesn’t take is carried into the sand from which we were made. It’s mostly ash and chips of bone. The priests are responsible for carrying most of the people into the dunes, but I was charged with carrying some of the most important remains.”

He shook his head. “We bury our dead. The body he shed rests beneath the stone. All of it.”

“Did the stone come from your mountains?”

“Yes.”

The slab sparkled. It wasn’t polished like glass, but I recognized it as the same whitish color of the rock that built the House of the Moon.

He stood and offered me a hand. “Thank you for coming here. We should head back so we’re not late to dinner.”

Caelum and I retraced our steps through the quaint, busy part of Lumina. Lumos had almost set when we walked up the front steps. Caelum lingered, facing him. I wondered if the two were talking and stayed quiet until he pivoted and opened the door.

Inside, things were quiet, eerily so. Where had everyone gone? It was evening, but I’d never seen the House so still or empty. My ears searched for the slightest noise but could not find anything to hone in on.

Our footsteps echoed down the hall as Caelum took my hand. Someone had already prepared the House for moonset. Candles were lit over every thin table and perched on every sturdy surface in the rooms we passed. They flared in sconces.

We approached the Great Hall, whose doors had been wedged open. It was the only room that hadn’t been lit.

And then suddenly, flames appeared all over the space as hundreds of matches were struck and wicks lit at once. The firelight glowed to reveal many faces – the most familiar and beloved waiting just inside the door: Kiran, Kevi and her dancers, and Beron, who stood with Caelum’s council. Citali was there, dressed in a wispy, yellow-orange gown. Even the riverfarer who’d shown me the spheres nodded toward me.

Was he back so soon? I searched the crowd for Vada’s face, but didn’t see her. Perhaps Caelum had sent a different ship.

I slid my arms around Caelum’s waist as he pulled me close, his cool hands ghosting up my spine. “Surprise!”

“Is this for me?”

He smiled. Hugging me to his side, he gestured to the crowd. “Thank you for coming to celebrate Noor of Helios. Please, set your candles down and fill your plates and cups. Enjoy the music and evening as we celebrate Noor’s birthday.”

He hadn’t called me Atena.

Everyone cheered at his exclamation, but my sister and Kiran stiffened. I ignored them, instead smiling and waving to everyone.

Long tables draped with golden silk stretched through the room, laden with food. Those attending placed their tapers in the candelabras arranged atop them. Beron pulled Caelum aside to whisper in his ear and Kiran took advantage of the separation. He stepped forward, a flash of gold in the darkness near his hands. “I hope you don’t mind. Caelum let me into your rooms for a moment to retrieve this. I didn’t disturb the rest of your things…”

He handed me my aureole. It had been packed away in my trunks and I hadn’t worn it in Lumina yet. I placed it on my head, knowing in my heart it would be the last night I would wear it.

Caelum rejoined us, studying the golden spires and the gilded roses at its base. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful,” he quietly said, his knuckles drifting over my hair.

The headdress’s familiar weight was comforting. Nostalgic.

It drew the eye of many of Caelum’s Luminan friends.

And yet, it felt strange wearing it. Like I hadn’t worn it hundreds of times. The gold didn’t sing as mine anymore. The aureole wasn’t different; the girl who wore it was. I wasn’t just the daughter of the Aten anymore. Third born. Destined to be nothing more than a pretty party decoration.

Saric had said the transition began at birth, but now more than ever I felt just how different I was. I wasn’t the Atena anymore, yet I was so much more than Aten.

I was born the heir of Sol, the sun, and fire.

I was born flame.

I was born to burn.

I wasn’t born to stand in anyone’s shadow, but to cast them.

Citali did not wear her aureole and didn’t bother to hide her distaste for the entire gathering. She handed her candle to someone who offered to take it from her and stood silently and alone, looking me over as if she was looking at a stranger. Not at her sister with whom at one point she ran and jumped and played. Not even at the person she’d grown to blame and loathe.

What would she see in me tomorrow when I was completely different?

The change would be severe.

An energy pulsed beneath my skin. I was jittery. Ready.

A line had been drawn in gilded blood between Citali and me.

A brush of Caelum’s thumb on my back drew my attention back where it belonged. “I hope this is okay with you.”

I gave an indulgent smile. “It’s perfect. I’m honored, Caelum.”

No one had celebrated my birth since my mother crossed into the hereafter.

Great platters of delicious-smelling foods were brought to the tables. Clusters of vine fruit, a variety of cheeses, hot and cold meats, and my favorite – sliced bread with a seemingly endless assortment of jams.

Beron watched Citali closely, and it set me on edge. If she moved, he wasn’t far behind. When she joined Caelum’s council as they made their way to a smaller table at the front of the room, she glanced back to see if he was close, narrowing her eyes when she found that she hadn’t shaken his attention.

Caelum hesitated near the door. He looked over the room, decorated in honor of my heritage, and for me. “It’s a tradition in Lumina to celebrate our years and thank Lumos for as many as he’s given us, while wishing for more to come. I certainly am grateful to Sol for your years, Noor.”

My phoenix wrapped her smoldering wings around herself, warming my stomach from within.

He handed me a palm-sized, rectangular box. “What’s this?” I asked in surprise.

“A gift to celebrate your seventeenth year. And… a promise from me.”

I slid a silver ribbon from the box’s corners and lifted the lid. On a bed of matching silk lay a silver cuff bracelet, much too large for my wrist. It looked similar to the cuffs Sol gave her priests when they pledged themselves to her. Like the wedding cuff Father had presented every one of his wives since my mother died…

“I heard it was the custom in Helios for bicep cuffs to be worn to show others you are committed. That is one tradition our kingdoms share.” He smiled. “Lumos, like Sol, gives a cuff to his priests when they make their vow to him. They’re covered by their robes, so you might not have seen them. But, it is our custom that when one wishes to pledge their life and fidelity to another, he offers a cuff of his own.”

Engraved in the silver was the face of Lumos. Even his scars lay within the impression. “It’s beautiful.”

“You don’t have to wear it now or… ever.” He gently took the cuff from my fingers.

I could barely breathe.

He nodded. Turning the cuff around and around, he met my eyes. “When you’re ready, if you want me… that’s when you put it on. And I will know the moment you do. Take as much time as you need in Helios.”

“What if I can never leave my kingdom for Lumina?”

He smiled. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that. The solution is obvious, but it will be difficult. Together, you and I can forge a new path. The past does not have to be our future. What if there doesn’t have to be two separate kingdoms? What if we combine them to make our own?”

He tucked the cuff back into the silk lined box and eased the lid on, replacing the ribbon. “Does your dress have pockets?”

I nodded. “I insist upon them.”

He handed the box to me, his crystalline blue eyes glittering with hope. I felt a glimmer of it in my heart, but the worries I couldn’t melt soon snuffed it out. He made me a promise, telling me he wanted only me. I only wanted him, too; I just wasn’t sure I could have him yet.

As we walked to the table, the cuff safely tucked into my pocket, I told him, “In Helios, we give Sol a gift for having allowed us another year.”

“What will you give her tomorrow?” he asked softly.

I smiled, hoping I could truly manage the gift I wanted so badly to give her. “You’ll see.”

We ate the beautiful dinner, enjoyed the music that flowed over the room like silken banners of sound, and danced and laughed. For a brief moment in time, I forgot that the moon would soon rise and I would soon burn.