The Bound (Ascension #2)(13)
“I…what?” Cyrene asked.
“Manifested. Produced your abilities. If they don’t come in by seventeen, then you’ll never have them. Were you ever good at anything when you were growing up, particularly related to the elements? Anything with earth, water, wind, or fire?”
Cyrene considered the question and tried to think of where she performed well. “Like gardening?”
“Sure. Plant life listens to the call of your energies. Earth magic in particular.”
The night of her Presenting ceremony came to her mind. What had I said to King Edric that day?
“My sister says I can predict the weather.”
“Can…can people predict or alter the weather?” Cyrene asked.
Avoca stared at her. “Not in two millennia.”
“Oh.”
“Some minor changes can be made, usually with powerful water or air wielders, but weather is complicated, and much of our…your population was decimated in the War of the Light.”
“The War of the…what?”
“The War of the Light,” Avoca repeated, not giving Cyrene any further guidance. Avoca nodded to herself. “As it is the Harvest Moon Festival today, I have many things to prepare for, and now, I must take care of my fallen men. Stay here and get dressed. I will return to escort you to the festival as a guest, and we can discuss all of these questions at a later time.”
Cyrene sighed in relief. “Thank you, Avoca. But who are your people, and why have I never heard of you?”
A true smile broke out on Avoca’s face. “You have heard of us. Your world knows us only as Leifs.”
She shook her head and laughed. “You’re joking. Leifs don’t exist. They’re a fairy tale you sing to little children to warn them of the danger of the woods.”
Avoca arched one eyebrow and then strode to the door. “And where do you think you are, Doma?”
The door closed behind her with a jarring bang, and fear crept through Cyrene’s body.
Is every story true? Am I standing in the middle of a nightmare?
Leif, Leif, Leif Thief.
Don’t get caught by a Leif Thief.
You must go in.
You can’t come out.
Da-da, da, da-da, da, da.
The nursery rhyme played over and over in Cyrene’s head as she stripped out of the Leif outfit, dipped fully into the heated bath, and waited for Avoca to return.
Leifs were real. She couldn’t believe it. When she thought about Leifs she envisioned spritely creatures with glittery faces and pointed ears, who snatched children out of their beds at night. Instead, she was met with forest dwelling warriors. It seemed utterly impossible. But then again, she had thought Braj and Indres were made up, and she had encountered them, too.
All the while, she worried about her friends and whether she would ever be able to leave here to find them, but at least she was finally getting answers.
Cyrene finished her bath and returned to the bedroom to find a new Leif gown in royal blue waiting for her. She dressed quickly and pulled her hair up.
Night fell before Avoca returned to Cyrene’s quarters. Avoca had changed out of her camouflage into a long blue dress that matched her eyes with braided gold sleeves and a matching band around her waist.
“Are you ready?” Avoca asked.
“Yes.”
“As a guest, you will be seated at the royal table,” Avoca explained as they circled back through the canopy to the floor.
“Why?” Cyrene asked in shock.
In Byern, guests in court were frequent enough, and while they were esteemed, they never sat with the king and queen.
Avoca scrutinized her and then responded, “Guests have the favor of the Queen, Doma.”
“Oh, I see,” Cyrene said, noting the differences between their cultures. “You can call me Cyrene, not Doma.”
“As it is your title, I would prefer to address you as such, but I take your request and foreign customs for what they are.”
“Thank you.”
“Where exactly did you come from?”
“I’m from the capital city in Byern.”
Avoca stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at Cyrene. Her nose was upturned, and she looked aghast. “Byern?”
“Yes.”
“It is a good thing that Ceis’f does not know where you are from.” Avoca controlled her facial features, but her voice still held disdain. “He might cut you down himself.”
“And why would he do that?” Cyrene asked. She tilted her head up and held on to her pride for her homeland.
“You know too little about your people if you can defend them so easily,” Avoca snapped before striding purposefully away.
Cyrene was left wondering what exactly she’d meant by that.
When they reached the ground floor, Avoca directed her into a spacious ballroom. Hundreds of Leifs were seated in high-backed chairs at artfully carved round tables. The floor had been formed from smoothed sparkling pebbles that reflected the dim lighting.
Cyrene’s mouth watered as soon as she walked inside. The tables were piled high with the best-smelling food she had ever encountered. Gold goblets were placed before every individual, but no one was eating yet.
It wasn’t until she was halfway across the room that she realized the voices were quieting and people were staring at her.