House of Eclipses by Casey L. Bond

9

A tentative knock came at the door just before Vada’s muffled voice announced, “Atena Noor, it’s time to wake and dress. The Lumin has asked you to join him this morning to break your fasts.”

I sat straight up, kicking through the tangle of blankets binding my legs, and rushed to the door, opening it to let her in. Citali stood in her doorway, scowling, then slammed her door closed with a growl. Vada looked taken aback.

“Don’t mind her,” I explained. “She gets angry when she’s hungry.”

“Oh, I can send some food up for her if it would help,” she offered kindly, walking with me to the armoire.

“If it would help, I’d let you,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Did you say something, dear?”

I smiled. “I was just wondering exactly who’d been invited to dine with the Lumin this morning.”

Her eyes glittered. “Only you, Atena Noor.”

My heart skipped. I straightened my shoulders. Her eyes caught on my throat and her lips parted. I distracted her, ignoring the question painted on her face.

“What should I wear?”

She gestured to the hanging dresses and gowns. “May I?”

I nodded and watched as she combed through them to see what I’d brought and what might be appropriate for something as simple as breakfast.

“Does my father know about this invitation?”

She winced. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure.”

I smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “It’s nothing to worry over. I was just curious.”

Her eyes slid to my throat and caught for a second, but she didn’t ask what happened, thankfully.

Her hands settled on a pale gold dress with a high neckline and long skirt. It was form-fitting, but lovely. “This,” was all she said, pushing the others back so I could see it better.

I nodded and took it from the armoire while she rifled through the drawers for a pale corset. “Thank you for your help, Vada.”

She gave a motherly smile and set about straightening the mess I’d made of the bed, all the while shooing me into the bathing room to ready myself.

I combed and tamed my sleep-snarled hair, dusted powder onto my throat in a feeble attempt to hide the purple and green bruises making their appearance when I needed them to fade, and raked my teeth over the line of scab traversing my lower lip. There was nothing I could do about any of it, so I finally gave up. I’d have to come up with a lie to cover them, as no amount of powder seemed to do the trick.

From a dainty golden pot, I dusted shimmer onto my cheeks, then quickly dressed. Vada waited in my now-tidy room. It looked as pristine as the moment I walked in yesterday.

She held out a pair of woven gold sandals to me. I strapped them on and stood up straight as she circled me, her eyes shrewder than I would have imagined them capable. “The Lumin is likely waiting. We should go.”

I wanted to ask how I looked but didn’t want to seem like I was begging for compliments or was worried about what he might think. I followed her from the room. She locked my door behind us and led me down the winding staircase to the first floor. We passed the hall where I danced last night, along with more rooms than I could possibly keep track of.

Eventually, we emerged from the side of the House of Dusk and stepped into a small garden that overlooked the river. The water was silver, reflecting the muted sky. I turned to thank Vada for her help and for showing me the way, but she was already gone.

“Good morning,” the Lumin said as he stood to greet me. A small, knowing smile played on his lips.

For several moments, we stood, both studying the other, our eyes locked.

“You’re not a guard,” I noted, breaking the awkward silence and deciding to confront my discomfort head-on.

“And you’re not a dancer.”

I moved toward my seat. He rushed over and pushed the chair in for me, dragging a “thank you,” from my lips. Then, he took his own and settled across from me.

He hadn’t seemed like a cruel man last night, but I knew better than to assume he was good. Good men had no need to lurk in the shadows.

I sipped from my glass of water while he sat perfectly still, watching my every movement. While he still exuded an air of confidence, his muscles were tense. His shoulders were broader than they appeared in the dark last night, and he seemed taller than I remembered. He’d shaved the shadow from his jaw. His dark hair contrasted with the stark white shirt he wore.

He seemed content to sit all day and not speak, but it made me antsy. I didn’t know the Lumin well enough to discern his mood.

I severed the silence. “Why did you ask me to breakfast?”

“Why did you disguise yourself last night?”

I folded my hands over my chest. “You know why. I wanted to see you.”

“You were simply curious?”

“Yes.” A long pause. “Why were you hiding?”

“I needed a moment to gather my thoughts.”

“And watch my father when you weren’t in his presence?” I volleyed.

He grinned because he’d been caught. “I worry for my people. This negotiation is important to them. I need to see if the Aten is sincere.”

“He gave you sun diamonds. Did that not buy your loyalty and affection?” I teased, pressing a manicured hand against my chest.

He tilted his head, likely wondering if he imagined the sarcastic tone I’d employed. “It would take far more than a handful of shiny rocks to earn those, I’m afraid.”

His eyes slid to my lips, then lower. When they caught on my throat, he went rigid. His brows slowly slanted. “Atena, why are you bruised? Did something happen last night?”

“No,” I said, sitting up straighter as two servants emerged carrying plates of steaming bread, fresh fruit, and sizzling strips of cooked meat. They arranged our plates and the platter between us and then left us alone. “Despite my grace on the dance floor, I can be quite clumsy.”

His expression softened. “I can see the fingerprints you’ve tried to cover. The split on your lip can’t be hidden, either.”

Rage filled me.

For the way Father had marked me.

The fact that the Lumin could see it. The pity in his expression. Pity I did not need or want.

I felt like stabbing the table to prove that I was not weak. My fingers inched toward the dull knife beside my plate. My hands began to tremble as a wave of fury washed over me. I grabbed the table edge to still them even as they thrummed, then began to burn. A tendril of smoke curled from where I gripped the wood.

He noticed, his head bending to the side in curiosity. “What was that?”

I took in a deep breath, calming myself, and removed my hands from the table’s edge.

Embarrassed, I realized I’d left marks on the wood. “It was nothing.” I eased my napkin over the charred impression of my fingers, clearing my throat. “When you envisioned breakfast, did you fantasize about droning on and on about my imperfections?” I asked breezily as I filled my plate.

His mouth fell open. “Firstly, I haven’t seen any yet. And secondly, how do you know I thought about this at all?”

“Because you’ve obviously put effort into it, and because I sit across from you while my sister fumes inside.”

He laughed, the sound almost as startling as it was glorious. “You are refreshing, Atena.”

I’d never been described as refreshing before. I wondered why he chose that word. I popped a grape in my mouth and chewed. “Thank you, Lumin.”

He groaned and scrubbed a hand down his pretty face. “The titles are exhausting, are they not?”

“Do you not enjoy being Lumin?” I will be most happy to remedy that for you and relieve you of the title you find so tiresome.

“No, I do,” he quickly corrected, filling his plate with meat and bread. “It’s just… may I be candid?”

“I’d prefer it.”

He grinned. “I’m sure your father explained that I’m open to forming an alliance with Helios.”

“To picking a Helioan bride, you mean. Specifically me or my sister.” Crimson stained his cheeks as he blushed, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes, but only if one of you wants such an arrangement, and only if your father is serious about the alliance beyond what the marriage might bring to our kingdoms.”

I almost asked him what he might do if my sister and I decided we were both interested in being his blushing bride just to see how he might squirm, but he continued.

“If we are to learn one another, I think we need to get beyond our titles quickly and move on to other more pressing things.”

I chewed a bite of bread and took a sip of water, wondering how to proceed, what sorts of pressing things he was referring to, and how to go about garnering the information I needed…

“I’d like for you to call me Caelum. And if you’ll allow it, I’d like to call you Noor.”

“In front of my father you will need to address me as Atena Noor,” I warned. “Father values titles almost as much as sun diamonds.”

He nodded. “I’ll be careful when we are in mixed company, but when we are together, are you comfortable with you just being Noor and me just being Caelum?”

His eyes sparkled, not like last night, like the stars. This morning, hope gleamed within the silvery hues.

“Very well,” I relented.

He’d proposed we get close fast, drop proprietary titles, and try to be ourselves. I was one step ahead of where I thought I might be this soon, and more importantly, one step ahead of Citali. I wondered what the crown of moonlight looked like, then pictured Caelum wearing it, his dark hair silhouetted against a glowing crown of silver and blue to match his eyes. Next, I would envision tearing it off his pretty head and running as fast as I could back toward Helios and Sol.

“Will you see my sister today?”

He looked properly embarrassed. “I’ve invited her to lunch.”

“You certainly waste no time, Caelum.”

His pupils flared at the sound of his name on my tongue. “Our kingdoms can’t afford for more time to be wasted, Noor.”

When he got to my name his voice deepened and a shiver coursed up my spine at his tone. I was suddenly glad we’d dropped our titles.

“I take it your father doesn’t know you snuck down last night?”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t, and I hope he will never learn of it,” I said pointedly.

Caelum smiled and brushed his fingers over mine where they rested on the table. “Thank you for trusting me with your secret.”

I shrugged, moving my hand away. “I have no other option.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. I wasn’t sure what was so funny.

Slowly, he sobered. “If I keep yours, will you keep mine? I, too, was spying.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“Thank you. You—” He stopped himself, flashing an embarrassed smile, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“What?”

“You’re not how I expected you might be at all. And your skin is so incredibly hot. To the touch, I mean. It’s very warm. And soft. And beautiful. You are an intimidating beauty.” He groaned. “I’m making it worse with every breath.” His cheeks turned pink again as he smiled.

It was my turn to laugh. “My skin is not hot; it’s just that yours is frozen.”

He scoffed, then spent the next few minutes regaling me with the story of his four-day journey upriver, his good humor apparent in his tone and demeanor. Just after they departed, the river began to freeze and he said he wasn’t sure they would make it. I couldn’t picture ice having the power to sheathe such churning strength. In all honesty, I couldn’t envision ice. He described it as frigid and glass-like when I asked, but said it melted to water when warmed.

“If you were to enter my kingdom, Noor, you might melt the mountains.” He said it playfully, but I couldn’t tell if the idea that I might ruin his kingdom was distasteful, or if he’d enjoy seeing them dissolve.

“Have you considered inviting me there?” I teased.

“I imagined you and Citali there, though I had no idea what you’d be like or look like.”

“Even though we might melt your mountains? Are you so easily willing to give them up?”

He laughed again, full-bodied, from his taut stomach. “The mountains themselves are made of hard rock, but they’re covered with snow and ice. We wouldn’t be risking the mountains, just their blanket of frost.”

“And how do you know I couldn’t melt the mountains, hard rock and all?”

He shook his head good humoredly and grinned. “If anyone was capable, I believe it might be you, Noor.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, either, but the way his eyes smoldered felt as familiar as flame, and suddenly, I wondered if his temperament was as icy as originally thought. The way he teased and laughed made me think he might be someone I could grow to like.

“I hate to cut our time short, but I have to meet with your father and Sol’s priests.”

Kiran would meet Caelum. I wondered what he would think and what Saric would intuit from the exchange between Aten and Lumin. I wished I could attend so I could hear both kingdom’s needs, demands, and concessions.

“Thank you for breakfast.” I pushed away from the table and Caelum was there to tug my chair out, his hand proffered. I slid mine into it, his cool palm soothing my heated fingers. When my napkin slid onto the ground, he saw the charred impression of my fingers.

He smirked, then laughed, squeezing my hand just before releasing it. He dubbed me, “Noor, melter of mountains. Not even the timber would stand a chance against your brilliant fire.”

I tugged my hand away again and tucked them behind me. I wasn’t accustomed to being touched.

“Have you walked the grounds? They’re quite unusual. The hue here is so somber,” he remarked.

Somber. I almost snorted. It was positively dismal. Still, it was something different and a place I might never see again. “I think I’ll take a walk, then. I need to see this unique depression for myself. Commit it to memory.”

He nodded, raking his teeth over his bottom lip. “I’ll see you tonight. Save me a dance?” Mischief twinkled in his crystalline blue eyes. The dull silver light almost drowned the blue, but there it was in the depths.

“Perhaps,” I teased, quirking a brow.

He all but had to drag himself away. Last night, we’d met in an unexpected way. It both terrified and thrilled me, and I now knew it had the same effect on Caelum. He’d invited me to dine with him first, then obviously enjoyed the time we spent together. He didn’t want to leave.

I offered a sly smile.

He paused at the door and turned back, lifting his hand. I waved back as a warm feeling blossomed in my chest. The sun diamonds on my wrist made a tinkling noise from the gesture. When he disappeared into the House of Dusk, I turned to walk the grounds. I needed to familiarize myself with them, but beyond that, needed time outside.

When the urge came upon me back home, I walked into the dunes to her resting place. I sat with her and told her about my life, sharing secrets and thoughts I would never tell anyone. The dunes were quiet, and it was the one place I could be alone. There was no place for anyone to hide and few could withstand the pressing heat, let alone the burning sand. It was safe in the dunes.

Here? There were many places for someone to conceal themselves. It wasn’t safe, and I hated the feeling that I had no security and no place to run if I needed it.

It was temperate here. Neither hot nor cold, but an uncomfortable tug-of-war between the two. The strange in-between chilled me and I longed for Sol’s comforting, burning heat. If I was being honest, I was homesick.

Perhaps it was just the gray feel of the place. Somber, Caelum had called it. He was right, but also wrong. It was somber, but it was more than that. Melancholy fit, but didn’t perfectly describe it.

I ambled along the drab gardens full of plants that had thrived at one point but didn’t any longer. Walking the bank of the dull gray river, I watched curiously as dingy brown frogs hopped into the flow with my every startling step.

Something occurred to me as I reached the Luminan ship. My first impression of Caelum was a pleasant one. I groaned. Pleasant was too mild a term. I couldn’t name anything correctly today.

If fire met ice, that might be akin to the first time I locked eyes with him. There was an initial confusion, but it only lasted a second before he seemed to recognize something deep within me. Something only visible to someone who truly looked, something I usually kept safely hidden, but for some reason didn’t conceal from him. He saw me.

Noor.

Not one of the Atenas. Not the Aten’s third born daughter.

Not a thief. Or a liar. Or a million things worse.

And, I think I saw the real him.

Caelum.

Not the Lumin.

Kind and concerned Caelum.

My second impression, which formed during breakfast, was far worse. Caelum was kind and funny and charming. He genuinely cared for and wanted the best for his people, and part of me wished he was the opposite. I wished he was cruel and as serious and sad as the dusk lands. I wished he was repulsive and not handsome.

Because if he truly was what he seemed, my plan would carve away at his kindness, erase his laughter, and kill his charm. If my plans succeeded and I managed to get close to him, I would break his trust. It would feel like an arrow struck his heart at the same time I plunged a dagger into his back. I would hurt him, and if I let myself get too close, I’d hurt myself in the process.

But this wasn’t just about Caelum or me. What I did, I did for Helios. For Sol. And for me.

It would be worth it.