Page 65 of Sanctifier

While she knew she should let go of his hand, stand firm in her determination to keep him at arm’s length… she didn’t. She threaded her fingers with his and said, “It would be rude to keep her waiting.”

It wasanother hour before Ru and Taryel were able to say their goodbyes and tumble out into the dusk-lit corridor. Ru’s eyes were bright with wine and cake, and Taryel’s smile seemed lighter, more carefree than Ru had seen it in ages. She wanted to live in this moment forever — a quiet corridor, Taryel’s hand in hers, the fading ache of laughter in their cheeks.

But as they walked through the palace, nodding at tittering courtiers as they went, Ru found herself slipping slowly back into the pit of fear, the gnawing dread that was ever at her core.

“Don’t,” Taryel said, pausing to face her, to curl a finger and lift her chin. “Stay in the moment a little longer.”

As he spoke, the artifact’s presence in Ru began to expand, to warm her, comfort her in the way it so often had. But she didn’t want it. She didn’t want to forget about her worries, about the people who would suffer or die because of her. Lord Edelliar with his Dionyse, all those joyful courtiers whose only crime was to embrace enthusiasm with abandon.

“I can’t afford to,” Ru said. “Time is running out, and you know it.”

“I know,” he said.

“So let me try to fix this before it’s too late. I have to show you something.”

They went back to Ru’s rooms. None of the guards who shadowed Ru protested or asked what they were doing. This was all within the confines of Ru and Taryel’s roles, after all — why shouldn’t they retire to her rooms together?

As soon as they were alone, Ru’s heart sped. She caught Taryel’s gaze and held it, knowing that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It would have taken so little. Just the right look, a touch… she swallowed, trying to ignore a sudden spike of feverish want. He was hers, if she wanted him. Nothing and no one stood in the way.

Nothing but Ru herself.

“You keep putting up walls,” Taryel said, studying her face. “Let me in. Tell me.”

“It’s…” she said, hesitating. She wanted to tell him what Hugon D’Luc had revealed about himself, his relationship to Lady Bellenet, but something held her back. Somehow, she felt protective of it, this strange glimmering shard of her jailor’spast. What difference would it make to Taryel, to their goals? It changed nothing. And it wasn’t her secret to share.

“Wait here,” she said, gesturing to the sofa facing the fire. It was warm and bright; Pearl must have come recently.

While Taryel settled himself, Ru went to retrieveGods & Glories. She had shoved it beneath her mattress in a fit of paranoia after the ball, worried that it would be taken from her before she’d had a chance to read it. She hadn’t had a chance to sit down and study it, not until now.

“Here,” she said, returning to the parlor and handing it to Taryel.

He raised a brow, studying the book. “Where did you find this?”

“I didn’t. A young woman gave it to me at the ball.”

Taryel’s brow rose a fraction higher. “Is that so? I’ve never heard of it.”

“She said it is the only copy in existence, but apparently it used to be all the rage in Ordellun-by-the-Sea. Maybe before your time?”

“We’d better take a look,” said Taryel, patting the cushion next to him with a smile. “I thought I’d read every book in the world by now, how unlike me to miss one.”

Ru narrowed her eyes in an attempt not to laugh. Did shereallywant to cuddle up next to the Destroyer by a crackling fire, huddled over a book, their faces no doubt leaning closer by the moment? She had to admit to herself that she didn't knowwhatshe wanted.

“I won’t try anything,” Taryel added innocently.

With a long-suffering exhale, Ru relented. The sofa was already warm from the fire, and Taryel’s solid presence put her at immediate ease. An ease that wasn’t earned or deserved, she thought, but she melted into it all the same.

Taking the book from Taryel, Ru flipped through it randomly, stopping to study illustrations here and there. It was a collection of short stories; accounts of gods interfering with humanity. But nothing stood out as being related to Festra until Ru’s eyes lit on a chapter heading near the back of the book: “The Isle of the Sun.”

Ru stiffened. “Lady Bellenet talked about this,” she said. “It’s where she believes we’ll go after the Cleansing.”

“The plot thickens,” Taryel said, leaning close to read.

They read the story together, Ru turning the pages and Taryel murmuring the words aloud, almost soothing in the depth of his voice, his accent. The story told of a mythical city on some lost, forgotten island that was said to house the gates to the afterlife. Many kings, adventurers, and faithful men and women attempted to find the island. None ever did but for one explorer.

Her name was Solia. And when she returned to Navenie, steeped in the joy of that discovery, she visited every temple, every church, every town square. She told them of what she had seen on that island, asking believers and nonbelievers alike to join her and pass through the gates to paradise.

But no one believed her. The Isle of the Sun was a story, a children’s tale.

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