The Cedna (Tales of Blood & Light Book 2) by Emily June Street Page A
Authors: Emily June Street
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awaits you downstairs.”
Onatos sat at a table too large for a party of two. “Are you feeling better?” he called down the table.
I only nodded, daunted by the broad expanse between us. I sampled the beverage in my goblet. It burned the sides of my throat deliciously.
“You like the wine?”
I nodded again.
Onatos waved, and a manservant sprang into the room from some hidden nook to refill my goblet. I drank too quickly, draining the cup before any food was served.
Onatos raised his eyebrows. “Be careful, love. You’ve been ill.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Why are you helping me now?” I called to Onatos. “I’ve done nothing for your cause; I have set no precedent. I figured you had forgotten about me.” I thought he had abandoned me as Inarian had.
He cocked his head. “I could never forget you, Beautiful.”
“But you have nothing to gain from helping me.”
His gaze held mine, and a look of hurt crossed his face. “Do you truly think me so mercenary? Cedna, if a mage were to look at us right now, if he were to see our Aethers, what do you imagine he would see?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. My bloodlight. Yours.”
His hands tightened into fists on the table. “I see you do not understand the aetherlumo di fieri. But do you not feel it? In the Aethers, a mage would see a thread of aetherlight running between us, heart to heart.”
I sucked a breath. He spoke of an ung-aneraq, the bond that developed between two people who mated. But we had not! How could this be? My hand snuck up over my chest, rubbing where I felt the pull he always exerted on me. I shook my head, my face flushed. “That is impossible,” I said.
“So some might say,” he replied. “But legends of the aetherlumo tell a different story.”
----
I was prepared to depart Galantia early the following morning, but Onatos lingered, sorting through possessions to decide what to bring back with him to Amar. Waiting in the tiled courtyard, I wondered if going to Amar so complacently was a good choice. A better plan might have been to sneak away to catch a ship to Gante. Would the Galatien king have cared enough to hunt me down and enforce his punishment? I doubted it. But he might punish Onatos for losing me, and I could not pay back Onatos’s kindness like that. I also did not wish to face the Elders and the Ikniqs who would give me looks of disappointment and whisper whatever rumors Inarian had spread of my conduct here. My people would retreat to the safety of Gantean traditions—hiding, enduring, suffering—and unless I did the same, I would be the lone beacon of dissent there.
I did not wish for that role anymore.
I stood at a crossroads. I chose to walk forwards because I could not face going back.
Chapter 9
S moke and broad buildings clogged Orioneport. Onatos’s home city bustled with industry, and though the daylight faded as we slipped into the harbor, the entire coast blazed with magelights set in the regimented square windows of the tall buildings.
“I love returning home in the evening,” Onatos said, slipping beside me at the gunwale. “There is nowhere like Orioneport at night. Galantia may be bigger, but Orioneport has more magelights and glamor.”
“Will we stay in the city tonight?”
Onatos leaned towards me, so close his lips might brush my cheeks. “I wish we could.”
I pulled away, unnerved by his closeness and the intensity of his gaze. He caught my hand and prevented my retreat.
“My Alcazar is outside the city, and I have business there that cannot wait. We shall ride for the Alcazar immediately.”
“Ride?”
“Ride. Horses. Amar breeds the best in Lethemia.”
“I do not know how to ride.” Gante had no horses, only tuttu deer, too wild and untrainable to be corralled into human service.
Onatos laughed. “Then you’ll have to ride with someone who does.”
The scenery flew by me in a blur; my senses narrowed exclusively on the man who held me: the pressure
Onatos sat at a table too large for a party of two. “Are you feeling better?” he called down the table.
I only nodded, daunted by the broad expanse between us. I sampled the beverage in my goblet. It burned the sides of my throat deliciously.
“You like the wine?”
I nodded again.
Onatos waved, and a manservant sprang into the room from some hidden nook to refill my goblet. I drank too quickly, draining the cup before any food was served.
Onatos raised his eyebrows. “Be careful, love. You’ve been ill.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Why are you helping me now?” I called to Onatos. “I’ve done nothing for your cause; I have set no precedent. I figured you had forgotten about me.” I thought he had abandoned me as Inarian had.
He cocked his head. “I could never forget you, Beautiful.”
“But you have nothing to gain from helping me.”
His gaze held mine, and a look of hurt crossed his face. “Do you truly think me so mercenary? Cedna, if a mage were to look at us right now, if he were to see our Aethers, what do you imagine he would see?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. My bloodlight. Yours.”
His hands tightened into fists on the table. “I see you do not understand the aetherlumo di fieri. But do you not feel it? In the Aethers, a mage would see a thread of aetherlight running between us, heart to heart.”
I sucked a breath. He spoke of an ung-aneraq, the bond that developed between two people who mated. But we had not! How could this be? My hand snuck up over my chest, rubbing where I felt the pull he always exerted on me. I shook my head, my face flushed. “That is impossible,” I said.
“So some might say,” he replied. “But legends of the aetherlumo tell a different story.”
----
I was prepared to depart Galantia early the following morning, but Onatos lingered, sorting through possessions to decide what to bring back with him to Amar. Waiting in the tiled courtyard, I wondered if going to Amar so complacently was a good choice. A better plan might have been to sneak away to catch a ship to Gante. Would the Galatien king have cared enough to hunt me down and enforce his punishment? I doubted it. But he might punish Onatos for losing me, and I could not pay back Onatos’s kindness like that. I also did not wish to face the Elders and the Ikniqs who would give me looks of disappointment and whisper whatever rumors Inarian had spread of my conduct here. My people would retreat to the safety of Gantean traditions—hiding, enduring, suffering—and unless I did the same, I would be the lone beacon of dissent there.
I did not wish for that role anymore.
I stood at a crossroads. I chose to walk forwards because I could not face going back.
Chapter 9
S moke and broad buildings clogged Orioneport. Onatos’s home city bustled with industry, and though the daylight faded as we slipped into the harbor, the entire coast blazed with magelights set in the regimented square windows of the tall buildings.
“I love returning home in the evening,” Onatos said, slipping beside me at the gunwale. “There is nowhere like Orioneport at night. Galantia may be bigger, but Orioneport has more magelights and glamor.”
“Will we stay in the city tonight?”
Onatos leaned towards me, so close his lips might brush my cheeks. “I wish we could.”
I pulled away, unnerved by his closeness and the intensity of his gaze. He caught my hand and prevented my retreat.
“My Alcazar is outside the city, and I have business there that cannot wait. We shall ride for the Alcazar immediately.”
“Ride?”
“Ride. Horses. Amar breeds the best in Lethemia.”
“I do not know how to ride.” Gante had no horses, only tuttu deer, too wild and untrainable to be corralled into human service.
Onatos laughed. “Then you’ll have to ride with someone who does.”
The scenery flew by me in a blur; my senses narrowed exclusively on the man who held me: the pressure
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