House of Eclipses by Casey L. Bond

5

When everyone settled to rest despite the blazing, hot sun overhead, a young servant boy of no more than nine came to fetch me. “Atena,” he greeted with a deep bow. “Your father requests your presence in the riverfarer’s quarters.”

The dark shadow Saric said he felt? One lived in me, too, and it plumed now in the pit of my stomach. I inclined my head, raking my upper teeth over my healing lower lip. “Did he call for Citali, as well?”

“I can’t be certain, Atena Noor. I was only ordered to find you and bring you to him.”

Saric was awake on his seat beside me. His pale brown eyes met mine and in them swam a thousand words and warnings.

None of them mattered. I followed the boy to the door of the small room in which the riverfarer lived, and which Father had taken over. Lush pillows and blankets were piled atop the small bed, just large enough to accommodate one person. The desk was covered with food and uncorked bottles of wine. Boxes were stacked all along the walls.

The scent of pipe herbs lingered. I smiled, imagining it clinging to the Aten’s pristine things. Father would consider it all soiled, no doubt.

The riverfarer stepped inside, removing his straw hat. He bowed to me, his wiry gray beard bending with the warm breeze streaming in from outside. “Atena, I hope you’ve managed to make yourself comfortable.”

“I have, thank you,” I replied, studying the copse of maps behind his desk. They were hand-drawn and so detailed it was hard to look away from them. I moved closer. “How long will the journey to the dusk lands take, exactly?”

The riverfarer folded his hands behind his back and rocked on the balls of his feet. “I’ve never been farther than two days downriver. The dusk lands are three days away, according to the best map I have. But do not worry, Atena. The river stays smooth for the whole journey. This was drawn and charted by my grandfather, and he made meticulous notes as he sailed the entire river and its tributaries to chart it.”

“The river – does it continue into Lumina?”

The riverfarer nodded. “It does, indeed, but the map ends at the Division, Atena.”

I looked at the bottom of the map and noted it did not end, but was folded with the back half tucked behind the visible one. The river was an umbilical cord linking our kingdoms. For far too long it had been severed, but if blood in the form of trade flowed its route once more, it might save Helios.

Movement behind us.

I tensed, expecting Father, but relaxed when Citali sauntered in. I never thought I would welcome her presence, but being alone with Father after what transpired yesterday froze me to the core.

The riverfarer greeted my half-sister, then excused himself from the room when Father’s strides ate the small space inside his quarters. He closed the door, nodding to Zuul now lurking in the corner, his thick arms folded in front of him.

Father offered a slight grin and even Citali fidgeted with her gown.

I forced myself to remain still and stand tall. No matter what, I would not be broken.

“What I am about to reveal is never to be spoken of again,” he began, his cool eyes flicking from Citali’s to mine. “The Sphinx gave me a vital prophecy when I spoke to her after Joba’s departure. While she admitted that the Lumin genuinely seeks peace, she revealed a way to ensure it for an eternity, and in doing so, ensure that my reign as Aten will never end.”

Never end? He wasn’t immortal. The goddess could make it so, but why would she choose him? Why bind herself to him for an eternity?

Even Citali’s brows drew in.

Observing our confusion, Father explained. “Lumos gifted his first heir a crown made of moonlight. The one who holds this relic is endowed with the god’s great power.”

“Anyone who possesses the crown?” Citali asked, ticking her head to the side in sudden interest.

Father confirmed with a nod. “Anyone.”

We were heirs of Sol, but if what he said was true, we could become the Lumin with possession of the crown. Citali’s eyes greedily sharpened along with mine.

“I asked Zarina to remain behind to assure that Helios has an heir,” Father said. “It is no secret that if Sol must choose, I wish for Zarina to become Aten rather than one of you.” The words stung. I knew his feelings better than my own features, but hearing him say it managed to pierce something inside my chest anyway.

“In his letter, the newly chosen Lumin alluded to a potential alliance with Helios, forged not only from ink and parchment, but from the blending of our families. He is open to discussing a marriage with one of my daughters.”

Citali’s lips parted and she flicked a glance to me.

“Such a match would be ideal for Helios. The Lumin and I could begin our work together, while his wife – one of you – secretly seeks the crown. It is in the best interest of Helios, and Sol, to have an Aten endowed with dual powers. And it is Sol’s will that I be that Aten.”

Father paced a few steps, back and forth, rolling his hands as he explained. “Just imagine it. The orbs could chase one another across the sky again. Our land would flourish instead of being forced to wither. This could change everything. I could change everything.”

And control it all.

His excited mood shifted like the wind. He grew serious, but beneath his expression, a fission of harried mania boiled. “We have only until Noor’s birthday. If I do not possess the crown by then, as you all will finally be of age and eligibility, Sol will choose Zarina, I will be removed, and our kingdom will continue as it is. The river will dry along with the fertile soil, and slowly, everyone will perish. If we fail, Sol will send the sands to swallow Helios. The priests say there are signs that the dunes have already begun shifting toward our great city.”

Father watched me with guarded features. He expected Citali to comply. He expected me to balk. “If you will not do this for me, please think of our people,” he tried, his eyes pleading with me for the first time I could remember.

“What benefits can I be assured if I complete this task for you, Father?” Citali dared ask. Father’s lips parted. He looked at her as if a stranger stood before him, but this was Citali through and through. My half-sister only ever worried for herself. Citali drummed her fingers on her arms impatiently, feeding off the fact that Father needed her for once, and not the other way around. She finally had his attention, though I wondered if she might soon regret it.

Father focused on her. “I expected Noor’s defiance, but not yours, Citali. And I believe you know what is at stake if you fail me.”

Her sharp eyes sliced him. “I will be putting my life in danger. Risking everything. As such, I will expect something equitable in return.”

Father went terribly still and for a moment, I thought she might have gone too far. But then he seemed to settle himself and the tension bled from his shoulders. “Name it, and it will be yours. Land. Riches. A title.” He brightened and shook his head, smiling, then promised, “If you bring me the crown of moonlight, there is nothing I won’t be able to offer you. Nothing will be denied you, Citali.”

Citali eagerly hung on his every word, her greedy eyes glittering as she considered the pretty vision he’d painted for her. But she was forgetting something we’d learned time and time again: Father’s promises always came with a catch.

She went still. “Father… why are you telling both of us? Which of us will you send to him?”

“In our correspondences, the Lumin asked to spend time with each of you so he could determine the best match.”

Doing so would further divide us, pitting sister against sister. It would cause strife within our family, but the Lumin and his people would be whole…

A darker thought emerged. What would Lumina’s army be doing while the Atenas were distracted, and while the Aten watched and waited and schemed? While we focused on the Lumin and finding the mysterious crown of moonlight, would they turn their sights on Helios and take it while we weren’t paying attention?

This felt like a trap. I wasn’t sure whether the Lumin had constructed it or if the Sphinx had, but either way, I had the distinct feeling we were being used as bait.

“You remain quiet, Noor,” Father noted.

Citali interrupted again. “Father, with all due respect, did the Sphinx say why Sol wishes for you to… shoulder this burden alone?”

Nice word choice, Citali.

His chest puffed. “Sol believes that if I hold both powers, I will be able to free her.”

From her unchanging position, Sol could lower herself toward Helios and raise herself high into the heavens, but she was otherwise immobile, fixed in a sky so vast and blue. It hurt to see her thus confined.

Citali’s eyes released their sharpness. I wondered if she lusted after the possibilities the crown might afford her. She seemed to have swallowed Father’s answer but missed his insinuation that he would be Sol’s savior – that he would be the one who set her free.

That wasn’t true at all. If Sol was freed, it would be mine or Citali’s doing, though Father would take the power and praise and never give us a second thought. Citali was a fool if she thought otherwise.

Could Sol be persuaded to reward the one who truly freed her? If it was me, could I ask her to free us from him? If I held the crown, I would never give it to someone as undeserving and cruel and selfish as Father.

My thoughts scattered like sand in the wind.

The Sphinx’s prophecies had never been wrong. Sol had formed the lionessafter the Great Divide, long before she chose her first Aten from among her people. The Sphinx’s wisdom was unrivaled, her guidance unquestionable.

But how could I trust the lioness when I questioned Sol herself? Sol had chosen Father from the first Aten’s long lineage when she could’ve chosen someone – anyone – kinder, gentler, and wiser for the task. Perhaps the goddess of gold and fire’s mercy had burnt away, leaving nothing but uncontrollable anger, her grace drying like the deserts breaking into tiny grains, mounded like the encroaching sand dunes.

Did she see Father’s cinder heart as a mirror of her own?

Or… perhaps Father concocted this bargain to force Sol to give him what his heart truly wanted: power with no constraints. He would use his newly stolen power to free her, if she would make him godlike in return.

“Both of you will meet the Lumin at the feast we host to begin the negotiations. You’ll need to capture his attention, and keep it,” Father advised. “But most importantly, you’ll need to search for the crown.” He looked to Citali. “You may leave us now. I need to speak privately with Noor.”

I inhaled slowly so he didn’t see the nervousness fill me. Citali flashed a knowing smile before bowing to him and gliding from the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click, sealing us inside.

The quarters felt remarkably smaller in her absence. Zuul still lingered, but kept his eyes fixed on the wall behind me.

My father dusted his hands as he walked to where I stood, stopping before me and staying silent. Silence often preceded his rage. “You will do your best to bring me the crown, or I will rid myself of you once and for all. Embarrass me or reveal my plans to the Lumin, and I’ll bind your soul to the sand where you will never rejoin your treasonous mother in the hereafter.”

I raised my chin defiantly. “My mother was not a traitor.”

He gave a cruel laugh then lunged. Grabbing my throat, he slammed me backward. The back of my skull hit the map the riverfarer’s grandfather had painstakingly made. Stars danced in my vision for a moment and the room spun. My feet lifted from the ground as he forced me upward. “You want to know what it felt like to watch the vessels in her eyes burst?” he hissed.

I tried not to kick, but he was crushing my throat. I looked to Zuul, whose flinty eyes found mine, but he made no move to help. Pressure built in my face and head. I gasped for air but found none.

It took everything in me not to claw at his hand and wrist.

“You want down?” he asked, his brows raised.

I tried to nod. To speak. My lips moved, but only strangled sounds eeked from my throat.

“You are pathetic,” he spat. “A monster, just like her. The only way I’ll allow you to leave the dusk lands alive is if you somehow convince the Lumin that you are the one he should choose.” He slammed me into the wall again just as someone knocked on the door.

I saw the war raging in Father’s eyes. He didn’t want to let me go. He wanted to end me, but two daughters increased the odds that one of us would succeed in the dark task he’d given us.

He dropped me and I slumped, my back raking against the wall and map as I fell to the floor. I inhaled sharply, gasping for air, my lungs aching from the pressure. I pressed a hand on my chest for a moment to stifle the ache. The pressure slowly ebbed from my face.

Father turned to see who’d dared interrupt him and found Saric waiting in the doorway.

“My Aten, I hoped I might have some of your time. I didn’t realize you were occupied.” The old man’s eyes flicked to me, then returned to Father’s, acting as if he saw nothing, as if I was unworthy of his worry. The only indication of the opposite was that his arthritic fists were balled at his sides.

“I’m finished with her,” Father said with a jovial smile, waving the eldest priest into the room. Zuul grabbed my arm and hauled me up as I coughed and sputtered, still sucking in breaths.

The guard led me out of the room, then closed the door. I hoped Saric had something interesting to say or else Father would see through his interruption.

On shaky knees, I tried to steel my bones and pretend that nothing was amiss. I walked back to my small spot at the ship’s side, settling near Kiran and leaving a Saric-sized space between us. My priest friend muttered a curse I was sure hit Sol’s ear. My eyes flared at his words.

Dark fury flooded his countenance. The servant girl who’d brought pillows for Saric stared at us from where she sat petting a few lambs nearby. “Could you bring fresh water and a rag, please?” he discreetly asked her.

She gave a quiet nod before scurrying away to get what he’d requested. In a moment, a small bowl and cloth lay in Kiran’s youthful hands.

“You can’t,” I warned.

“It is a priest’s duty to care for his Aten – and the Atenas.”

But how could he do both when the two were constantly at odds?

If Kiran showed me kindness, he’d be repaid in cruelty. I tried to move away, but he stopped me. “Stay.”

Kiran dipped the pale cloth in the cool water and scooted into Saric’s vacant seat. My vision tilted again and my stomach turned. The cool cloth paused on my neck. “There are marks on your throat,” he rasped.

I didn’t nod. Didn’t speak.

If I moved an inch, I’d be sick.

He pressed the rag to my throat and held it there. The cool water soaked into my skin, but Sol quickly drank the moisture. He wet it again, holding it to my lip. It stung. The split had opened again. I licked it and tasted the tang of copper.

I pressed my eyes closed to keep everything from spinning, gently prodding the back of my head where a goose egg swelled.

“Your head, too?” he asked.

A guard strolled by, one of Zuul’s men. He slowed as he glanced between me and Kiran.

I panicked and took the rag from his hand, pressing it on my skull. “Thank you, priest,” I said formally. “I fell.”

The guard continued his march but kept his steps slow, obviously straining his ears to overhear our conversation.

Kiran moved back to his seat. He could probably sense the fear radiating from my heart, feel the reverberation of it pounding against the wood we both leaned back against.

How many times had I ‘fallen’ throughout my life? Those words felt hollow, but I didn’t. I brimmed with righteous anger.

Father wanted the crown of moonlight more than anything. He was willing to push his own daughters to seduce the Lumin so he would wed one of us, only for that unlucky bride to steal the very source of his power and deliver Lumos and his great, dark power to our father. Sol’s fire wasn’t enough to satisfy him.

How could Sol allow this? Was she so desperate to move?

My throat throbbed, reminding me that I was as desperate as she. Maybe more. The battle between Father and I had to end, one way or another.

Saric returned to us, settling between Kiran and me. His gentle eyes met mine.

“Thank you,” I said so only he could hear.

He inclined his head just a touch.

“Saric?” I paused, searching for the words and strength to ask them. “Is what he said true? Did Sol make this agreement with him?”

The elderly priest pressed his withered lips into a fine line. “I am sorry, Noor, but the Sphinx did deliver him such a prophecy.”

I didn’t trust Father at all, but I trusted Saric. If he said the bargain was real, it was. And though he didn’t elaborate about how it came to be, whether Father had persuaded the goddess to give him a chance to free her, or if Sol truly chose him and wanted him to be her vessel forever, it didn’t matter in the end. The outcome would be the same.

A dull throbbing drummed behind my eyes. I would be fine. I just needed to rest and hope my throat didn’t mottle too badly, that my lip would somehow heal before I met the new Lumin.

I had no intention of marrying him, but I needed to get close all the same. Not only close, I needed him to want me. To choose me over my sister.

And while I lured him in, I needed to keep Citali from finding the very source of the Lumin’s power.

Because I was going to steal the moonlight crown.

Not for Father.

Not even for the power it would afford me.

But to keep him from becoming something unstoppable, something ruinous.

I was through living in his shadow. Through with threats and bruises and fear.

If I could find the crown, I would destroy him. I would win this war.

And when I bested him, I wouldn’t hesitate to tear the sun from his damaging grasp.

I would free myself.

Then free Sol.

And hope the goddess’s fire didn’t incinerate me for putting her second.