House of Eclipses by Casey L. Bond

7

The House of Dusk was enormous. The Lumin and his people were already there by the time the riverfarer and his crew guided the ship to the river’s edge and secured her by tying ropes to enormous boulders. We were met with unexpected fanfare by a crowd that was respectful but jubilant, and music unlike any I’d heard from instruments I’d never before seen. But that wasn’t the best part.

Father led us from the ship, Saric and Kiran right behind Citali and me. Every person in the crowd held small bags, and reached into theirs at the same time. Father was taken aback, fearing the worst, until they released what their hands had found within: silken petals in every shade of white, pink, red, and even blue.

My heart leapt to watch them fall. I stooped to collect a few, running my thumbs over their softness as a smile blossomed on my lips, unbidden. The petals rained onto our shoulders and caught in our hair.

Citali inched closer to me. “There are so many of them. They outnumber us...”

Of course, Citali thought of war and peril before assuming the Lumin had been sincere in his attempt to garner peace.

Still, she was right. We were outnumbered, but scanning over them, I didn’t see one that stood out from the rest. Had the Lumin deigned to come?

Father stopped when our entire party had disembarked and turned to face the delighted crowd. “Thank you, Lumina, for this beautiful and grand gesture. We look forward to hosting a great feast in your honor tomorrow.”

The Luminans cheered, moving back to afford us more room. Some hurried back inside the House of Dusk while others lingered, watching our servants unload the ship’s cargo. Some voyeurs even offered to help and carried our things inside.

A gentleman wearing silver armor stepped forward. His hair was dark, but the hair at his temples matched the metal guarding his body. Worry lines streaked his serious face. He bowed to Father. “Welcome, Aten. The Lumin has had many rooms prepared to ensure your comfort upon arrival. May I see you to yours?”

Father smiled as a lion might smile. “Of course you may.” He followed the silver soldier inside without a glance back at his daughters.

The House of the Sun was three stories tall, whereas the House of Dusk was seven. Built of precisely cut gray stone, it rose from the muted earth and seemed to brush the gloomy, cloud-filled sky with eager fingers.

A woman dressed in a simple, but fine gray dress approached me and my sister. “Atenas,” she greeted while bending at the waist. “I’m happy to escort you inside.” The woman looked no older than Father, and like him, she clung to the strength youth provided. Silvering hair fell to her shoulders where it had been cut into a blunt line. She was beautiful, her eyes blue and kind.

I inclined my head respectfully and we stepped into the House, leaving the gray dusk outside. I thought it was dark outside until I entered the windowless hall. The woman led us to a stairwell where we climbed to the top floor. Citali was winded when we reached the top. The woman took note.

“The Lumin thought you might appreciate a view of the sky, even though it’s different from what you’re used to.”

Like a fool, Citali muttered something rude and the woman’s sweet smile faded.

“I appreciate the gesture,” I assured her.

The woman glanced between us and fixed her smile once again before leading us down the hallway.

Citali scanned every door we passed until we arrived at the end of the hall. The woman withdrew a key from the pocket of her dress, unlocked the door, and pushed it open to reveal a spacious room with stark white walls, trimmed in gold. A large bed sat against the far wall with plush white linens draped over the canopy top. A small writing desk was situated in front of one of the three windows, the lamp pouring buttery soft light over the stack of blank parchment resting on its top. A small vat of ink and a quill sat ready beside the paper.

Citali moved to a doorway in the center of the right wall and disappeared inside. “This will do,” she said approvingly, her voice echoing from inside. She reappeared in the doorway, bracing her hands on the facing and glancing at me. “It is a private bathing room.” She tugged the doors of the pristine armoire open just as the first of her heavy trunks were brought in.

The woman looked to me. “Your rooms are across the hall. Would you like to get situated?”

“I would, thank you,” I told her. I would especially like to put distance between me and my spoiled sister.

Citali paid no attention as I left her rooms. She was already unlocking her trunk and throwing the lid over the back. The oversized armoire might soon burst with all she planned to stuff into it. Citali brought twice the trunks I had. Her gowns were her armor, and she was prepared for the war that would rage between us over the coming days and weeks.

The woman pulled out another key and unlocked the door to my rooms. Inside, I saw that it was a darker reflection of Citali’s. My bathing room was on the left wall, but that wasn’t what made my feet halt. It was the beauty of the space. Citali’s room was white trimmed in gold, whereas mine was all gold and black. Darkness and warmth. A devastating clash of opposites.

I loved it.

“Is the décor to your liking, Atena?”

I turned to the woman, belatedly remembering she was still with me. “It’s the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen,” I replied truthfully.

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction.

My large bed was draped in alternating swaths of gold and black fabric, with sheer matching panels lacing together over the canopy. The wooden bed frame was painted the dark hue while golden vines and leaves had been painstakingly painted onto the posters. The writing desk and armoire were painted in the same manner.

I walked to the bathing room, marveling at the black stone inlaid on the ceiling, walls, and floor. The room was polished and clean, the stones smooth and cold underfoot.

A commotion outside drew me from the room.

Our escort instructed the placement of my three trunks, smiling at the servants as they deposited them and left to fulfill other duties. “I’ll have water brought up for you and your sister,” she promised.

“Wait! What’s your name?” I asked.

“My name is Vada, Atena.”

“Mine is Noor.”

She stood taller, almost regally. “We were instructed to call you Atena as a sign of respect.”

“Atena Noor, then.” I smiled. “My sister’s name is Citali.”

She glanced toward Citali’s door before inclining her head. “I’ll send for water and bring something for you to eat and drink.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.”

She bobbed a quick curtsy, placed my room key on the trunk nearest to her, and closed the door behind her.

I didn’t bother unpacking. I walked to the window and let my fingers drift over the cool pane. My room was higher than the platform atop Sol’s temple, high enough that the wide river looked more like a small stream. Our shallow-hulled ship looked unimpressive from this height, its hull bobbing in the water where we’d tied her.

The Luminan ship was much like ours: able to sail in shallow water, pale sails precisely tucked away. Their deck was empty now, but they must have brought even more than we did if they managed to provide all these comforts to us. Or had these things always been here, available for either kingdom to use?

Two soft knocks came at the door.

“You may enter.”

A host of men and women came in, each carrying a steaming bucket of water. They marched straight into the bathing room, emerging when their buckets were empty. Vada returned carrying a tray of fruits, bread, and a carafe of fresh water.

“Thank you… for everything. I can’t tell you how famished I am, and how glorious a long, hot bath will be after spending nearly four days on the river.”

She laughed, giving me a knowing nod and pressing a sachet and soap bar into my hands. “I brought some salts for your bath and a bar of freshly made soap.”

I almost groaned when I smelled the herbs. Glancing at the gifts in my hands, I saw flecks of herbs were trapped in the bar. I didn’t recognize their scents.

“They’re from Lumina,” she explained, seeing my puzzled expression. “A gift. From me to you.”

“Thank you.” My heart squeezed. Vada was a complete stranger, but so kind. I never expected to find kindness on this end of the river. “I didn’t have the opportunity to arrange for gifts. We left rather abruptly,” I admitted.

She pressed her hands together. “Atena, in Lumina, gifts aren’t given for the hope or expectation of reciprocation.”

She was more gracious than I deserved. “Thank you,” I told her again, smelling the deliciously scented soap and salts.

When the final bucket of hot water had been emptied, the last person stepped out of my rooms, leaving me and Vada and the thoughtful gift I held between us.

“Do you require further help, Atena?”

“No, thank you.” I looked over at the platter of food. “Tomorrow we will host a feast for your people, and I hope we can come close to the kindness you’ve shown in the first hour I’ve known you, Vada.”

She smiled warmly and gently took hold of my arm. “This is no feast, but I hope it will satisfy your hunger. Rest well, Atena Noor.” She turned to leave.

“Rest well,” I told her. She gently closed my door with a motherly smile that left an ache in my chest long after her footsteps trailed down the hall.

I stayed in the tub until my skin was wrinkly and every inch of hair and flesh had been scrubbed with the delicious-smelling soap. The salt eased the ache in my limbs. I saved plenty to give Saric. Once I found him, that is. I wasn’t sure where his and Kiran’s rooms were.

Someone had placed thick towels on a bench within the bathing room. I wrapped myself in them before finding the key to my trunks and finally unlocking them.

As I hung up the dresses and gowns I’d brought, I popped crisp grapes in my mouth and sipped fresh, cool water from a silver goblet. I noticed a small drawer at the bottom of the armoire. I pulled it out and saw it was empty. There was nothing beneath it; nothing hidden beneath the mattress or behind the headboard. I felt along the walls and tugged on the sconces to be sure, but there were no drafts of air to be felt and no secret passages to be found. I was only fractionally disappointed that my room was just that.

I dressed in the plainest dress I had so I could blend in, choosing a simple, pleated cotton gown the bright color of river grass. I perched on the bed and ate the rest of the grapes, then spread the creamy cheese on the small knotted roll of bread and ate it, too.

My eyes kept returning to the window. The gray outside was as constant as Sol in the sky, but so different, it was hard not to study it. I moved the writing desk over so I could sit in the windowsill, and there I stayed until Citali strode in unannounced and uninvited.

“You should lock your doors.”

“What do you want?”

She eyeballed my tray. Given her lack of a reaction, she’d received the same. I ran my hands through my still-damp hair as she surveyed the room with a critical eye. I’d put away all my clothes, situated my sandals beneath the armoire, closed the trunks, and stacked them along the wall as best I could.

“I prefer the white and gold of my rooms,” she said haughtily.

“I prefer the black and gold of mine,” I retorted.

“What smells so good?” she asked, sniffing the air as she drew near. “It’s you!” she decided accusingly. “Was your soap scented?”

I rolled my eyes. It was always something. “Jealousy never looks good on you, Citali.”

Her dark gray eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “I was going to invite you on a little adventure, but if you’re too busy pampering yourself…”

My curiosity piqued. “What adventure?”

“Father has opened some wine and the dancing girls are getting dressed. He’s invited the Lumin to join him for drinks and to watch them dance.”

My mind whirred. I smiled at her and leaped down from my window perch. “Let’s go.” I paused halfway across the room. “Wait. How did you learn about this, Citali?”

“Gold,” she said, giving a toothy grin. “It always buys information. You just have to know who has the truth and needs the gold most.”

I gestured to her fine gown. “You’ll need to dress in something plainer if we’re going to blend in.”

She scoffed, holding the skirt of her dress out. “This is the plainest dress I brought.”

I shook my head and waved a hand to my armoire, where she helped herself to a plain gray dress. “At least I’ll match the water, earth, and sky in this forsaken strip of nothing,” she pouted, quickly exchanging dresses.

I laid hers on my bed and waited for her to leave so I could lock the door. She was right about that much. I dropped the key into a small pocket hidden along my skirt’s seam.

We made our way downstairs, passing the sixth, fifth, fourth, and third floors, exiting onto the second floor where Citali tugged me down a hallway. For a second, her touch felt strange, like we were children again, back when her seething hatred of me vacillated instead of festered. When we were young, balancing with one another on the precipice of innocence and awareness, sometimes we were just sisters.

Sometimes I missed those days, but in my marrow, knew they were long gone. Whatever insignificant remnant of those moments remained would soon be ground to nothing as we faced one another as true foes.

Music and laughter rose from the first floor. Citali and I followed the hallway until it shrank and one wall fell away to reveal ornamental balustrades that overlooked a vast room below. Chandeliers with more candles than I’d seen before poured golden light over those who gathered below.

I spotted Father right away. Zuul was nearby, quiet and looking over the crowd. His gaze pulled upward to where we stood, and I hurriedly ducked back into the hallway to hide.

Citali laughed, clutching her chest. “How does he always see everything?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, but I wish he didn’t,” I answered, giving a nervous but thrilled laugh.

We crouched and watched as the musicians strummed, drummed, and cajoled their mizmars in a relaxed, winsome song. Wine was readily poured and passed around. There was a light, jovial feel to the room, smiles curling on most lips. Along with Father and his guard were a few of the servants I recognized from the House of the Sun.

Saric and Kiran were not in attendance, but neither was…

“Do you see him?” Citali asked.

No one was seated in the broad seat matching Father’s. “Maybe he hasn’t arrived yet, or perhaps he will return soon.”

“The seat is there for a reason. He’ll come,” she sighed, clutching two thick, stone balustrades. “I need to get closer.” Her eyes flashed as she pushed up to a crouch. “Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get a better vantage point,” she snipped.

Of course she was. And she wanted me to remain behind. She retraced her steps and took the stairway that curled to the first floor. A few moments later my sister emerged, her face and head wrapped. She planted herself among the servants and grabbed two wine bottles, weaving among the attendees and refilling cups. No one paid her any attention. I had to give her credit. It was a bold move to walk among them, even as she seemed to go unseen.

I needed to do something equally as bold.

I turned to peer down the hall when tittering giggles filtered down it. Dancing girls streamed from a nearby room into the hall, pausing at the stairwell to glance down. They boasted toned muscles and glistening skin, garbed in revealing ensembles with colorful veils draped over the bottom halves of their faces.

They noticed me and jerked to attention, bowing and lowering their eyes to the floor. The last to leave the room pulled the door closed and took out a key to lock it. The tips of her long, glossy black hair grazed the small of her back. “Stop!” I urgently ordered before she stuck it into the keyhole.

She turned, her eyes wide. “Atena –”

She was older than I thought. Likely in her thirties, but still beautiful. Hers was still the body of a well-trained dancer.

Desperation lanced through my veins. This was foolish and reckless and… I’d never wanted anything more than to not be me for just a few minutes. To have fun without having the weight of the title of Atena or her aureole hanging on my head and neck.

“I need your help.” I twisted the knob and opened the door, waving her back inside. The woman told the other dancers to wait for her while she eased the door closed behind us.

“What can I possibly help you with, Atena?”

“I need to conceal myself. To look – to dress – like you.”

Her full brows kissed. “Atena – I’m not sure that’s a wise –”

“My sister and I… we need to see the Lumin. My father would kill me if I strolled brazenly into that room, but disguised as one of you, I could get in and he would be none the wiser.”

She huffed a laugh, though it lacked humor. “He would kill me if you were discovered. I can’t risk that, Atena. I’m sorry.” She turned to leave again. “Come along. There’s a small place in the shadows where you can stay and watch.”

I shook my head and attempted to convey my desperation. “My father won’t kill you if something happens, because I won’t make a mistake. I can dance. He’ll never know. I’ll keep to the rear of the group, near the shadows, and leave at the first sign of trouble – not that there will be any.” She shook her head and opened her mouth. I knew another protest would fall off her tongue. “Please,” I added, giving her my most beseeching plea.

“Why do you need to see him so badly?”

“One of us may marry him,” I told her. The woman’s eyes glittered as our secret and all its implications registered. I slipped a gold bangle off my wrist and held it up, remembering Citali’s words. “You can’t tell anyone.”

She snatched her prize, slipping it on and holding her hand out to admire it. “You can dance?” she asked, sizing me up shrewdly.

I nodded.

“How well?”

“Well enough.”

“You’d better hope so,” she chuckled. Beneath her breath, she added, “For both our sakes.”

Then, she ordered me to strip.