Page 125 of Kissed By the Gods
She’s not just a threat to the traditions, the authority, the sacred little systems. She’s a threat to control, to the lies I suspect our entire kingdom has been built on. They won’t come for her out of fear or hate—they’ll come for her out of desperation.
But even so, going to Selencia gives me the opportunity to step beyond the bounds of my oath and chase answers I was never meant to seek.
Because Leina’s existence calls into question the entire foundation the Synod stands on. And this—this forbidden desire, this unrelenting need that crosses godsdamned veils and transcends realms—it calls into question the entire structure of our way of life.
I’ll stand by my oath, but not the way the Synod interprets it—not with blind obedience or fear masquerading as faith. I’ll honor it in the way it was meant to be honored. If that means standing against kings, against temples, even against the gods themselves … So be it.
Because I am Altor. Because it’s time the Synod stood for more than simplynotdying. It’s time it stood for living.
I rub a hand over my face, trying not to picture all the trouble she’ll be able to get into when I’m gone. “Just, don’t veilstrideinto any more battles until we’ve done some more weapons training and air maneuvers, yeah?”
She gives a noncommittal “mmm.”
And I don’t think she’s trying to be smart with me. Her lack of control over her gift is a truly terrifying thing, and I don’t even understand all the ways it’s terrifying. There hasn’t been a veilstrider in hundreds of years. It’s never been common. It’s a gift I know next to nothing about, but I keep picturing her dropping out of the sky into the middle of half a dozen Kher’zenn, with no training and riding a new, untried faravar.
What if she drops right into Morendahl, alone? What if … What if she drops into a different realm altogether? Fuck, what if she getslost?
I’ve already requested Elowen bring me all the texts on veilstriding she can get her hands on, though I gather that I’m probably last in line to request them—behind the Elder, the archons, the king, and every other godsdamn Altor who was here when she revealed everything.
It takes me a moment to realize she started talking again. I pull my attention back to her.
“… can’t believe I left you on Solmire. How is Einarr doing?”
“I can’t believe you made it there, at all. You saved us,” I reply. “And Einarr is fine. He’s on his way here from Carrisfal. How is your beast?”
Contentment blooms across her face, and her entire expression softens. “Perfect,” she whispers. “Vaeloria is perfect. I can’t wait for you and Einarr to really meet her.”
“Her?” I ask, not bothering to cover the surprise in my voice.
“Yes,” Leina says. “I’m not the only female warrior in the Synod anymore.”
Another knock sounds on the door, and a young ward enters with a tray of food. Leina steps to the side, giving him space in the little room to maneuver.
“Archon Robias wants to know if you’re ready to give your post-mission account?” the boy asks me.
I give a nod.
“He’ll be here shortly,” the boy says, and then leaves as quietly and quickly as he arrived.
There’s so much more to say. Too much for mere minutes.
“Heal well, Ryot.” She turns to leave. “And I’ll see you soon, when you’re back from Selencia.” Her voice breaks on the word Selencia, gutting me.
“Leina.”
She turns back, one hand poised to open the door.
“Thank you again. For saving my life.”
She tilts her head. “I never thanked you for all the times you’ve saved mine. So, I guess … now we’re even.”
The door clicks open as her hand twists the knob.
No. We’re not leaving it like this.
I step forward, pressing my palm above hers, easing the door shut before she can open it any wider. I stop close, just behind her, but I don’t touch her. Not yet.
I feel the shift in her breath, the subtle hitch in her chest. And gods, her scent—lavender and heat and her—wraps around me like a tether.
