Star Mother (Star Mother #1)(75)

But even the Sun struggled against the moon, so perhaps there was hope. Or so I thought, until a bonfire exploded behind me. Spinning around, I looked into the fiery, gemstone eyes of Saiyon.

The Sun God Himself, come to capture His quarry. He held in His hand a great pearlescent sword so sharp it hurt my eyes to look at it. It was too broad and heavy for any mortal man to wield, and its point hovered close to the ground.

Ristriel stepped in front of me. He flashed solid for a moment, but in Saiyon’s presence, he couldn’t hold his form, even with Saiyon dimming His power. At first I thought the Sun God was so radiant because the cloak of night emphasized His light, but then I wondered if this was Saiyon in full, not a division of Him. Which meant capturing Ristriel was critical enough that those on the other side of the Earth Mother were still waiting for dawn.

Even as the thought entered my mind, I heard an explosion overhead, though I dared not take my eyes from Saiyon to look. I knew the sound. Recognized the sparks in my peripheral vision. While we stood here on the Earth Mother, the war between day and night continued above us—or perhaps Saiyon’s soldiers were simply distracting the moon so He could finish His business with Twilight. After all, He was encroaching on her kingdom—I wasn’t sure if the Earth Mother claimed Her own, with Her face turned away in sleep.

“Let’s end this, Ristriel.” Saiyon’s voice was like a great low trumpet, too strong and loud for this quiet place. “You cannot wield time forever. If you try now, I will kill you where you stand.”

My breath stuck in my throat. My skin flashed silver. Demigods were immortal, but perhaps the death Saiyon intended was not the same as the death I knew.

Ristriel stood tall. “You cannot deal Your justice upon the Earth Mother.”

Saiyon frowned. “And She cannot offer you sanctuary in Her slumber.”

I tried to put a hand on Ristriel’s arm, startling him. He glanced at me, his dark eyes determined in their set but fearful in their depths. Focusing on Saiyon, I said, “What must be done? For You to let him go?”

A thin breath passed from Saiyon’s nose. “He cannot be let go. He is the only barrier between day and night.”

I held His gaze and stood tall. “You are a god of law, Saiyon. Explain to me how eternal chains are a just punishment for the recklessness of a newborn being.”

Saiyon’s light blazed a little brighter; there was strain in His features as He reined it in again. Ristriel stepped over to shield me, but I knew Saiyon would never hurt me.

When the god did not answer, I asked, “Can You?”

His diamond gaze flickered to His subjects surrounding us. His jaw set stiffly, but He managed, “I cannot.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Then I ask again. What must be done, for him to earn his freedom?”

Saiyon did not respond for nearly a minute. The tension flowing between us, and between Ristriel and the godlings, made drawing breath a laborious effort. And yet His eyes never left mine. Just like when we first met, I sensed He was peering beyond my mortal fa?ade, deep into me, to something even I did not know. My understanding was so limited then, and yet I had spoken simple facts that even the Sun God could not deny. In truth, looking back, I am surprised He cared for me enough, at that time, to barter with me. Then again, a god of justice could not be entirely deprived of mercy.

When He spoke, it seemed to shake the Earth Mother Herself. He spoke to Ristriel. “The war will continue.”

Ristriel looked away.

Sighing a great, summery breath, Saiyon said, “He must repay all the time he stole.”

Indigo light flickered across Ristriel’s incorporeal form.

“How?” I pressed.

“In Oblivion,” Ristriel whispered. Eyes on Saiyon, he murmured, “It is the space beyond stars, an otherworld unclaimed. It has been my home since shortly after I was born.”

His prison, he meant.

“That is cruel,” I said.

Saiyon flared brighter; even the godling beside Him had to step away. “I am bound by the laws of the universe. The loss cannot be acquitted, even for you.” Fiery gaze back to Ristriel, He asked, “How much of the time you stole is still in your possession?”

Ristriel tensed, and I knew it was very little. He must have spent a great deal of it before meeting me, trying to displace himself from the heavens. The rest had been leaking out of him in the fortnight since.

Old anger bubbled in my stomach, pushing my starlight outward. Ristriel did not shrink from it, but he became even more transparent in its light.

But Saiyon—in the moment my starlight filtered through my skin, I saw, for an instant, golden threads around Him, connecting Him every which way to the heavens overhead. Bright chords, leading into forever. I blinked, and they were gone.

I understood then how true His statement was. Saiyon was truly and literally bound by celestial law. Ristriel wasn’t the only one who bore chains.

Even the gods were not truly free.

“It still isn’t right.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Had You not chained him—”

Ristriel lifted a hand to stop my argument.

“Perhaps you are right,” Saiyon said, “but I am not the one on trial. You are young, Ceris Wenden, even for a mortal. You have not truly experienced war. The turning of the universe does not hinge on your decisions. What I did was done to spare My people, and yours. You feared for the mortal city, did you not? Would you tell Me with an oath of truth that you would not sacrifice one to save the rest?”