did this to you. I will see you healed, little dove.”
Chapter 10
Seven Days Earlier
Tendrils of dawn-lit fog snaked between weathered mausoleums, cracked tombstones, and statues of little gods worshiped and little gods forgotten. With leaden steps, paired knights and priestesses drifted along the fog trails. After a half-night of aimless searching for some unknown, supernatural threat, they were leaving.
One pair paused in front of a small mausoleum typical of what the lesser nobility could afford. Engraved above the entrance was the Varenni name alongside the family crest.
The knight was Captain Kedimius Threnna, a dark-haired man of twenty-seven years who with plump, boyish cheeks barely looked seventeen. Over chainmail he wore a white surcoat bearing the emblem of the Imperial First Lancers: a gold heart overlaid by a vertical crimson sword.
The priestess Ilsimia Ulla, a sister of the Grand Order, the highest echelon of clergy within the Issalian Empire, stood beside him. Her face had fine, delicate features that gave her a classic beauty. Her limbs were long and slender. Honey-colored hair hung down her back, twisted into the knotted braid worn by all Seshallan priestesses. Her deep brown eyes studied Kedimius’s face as he gazed upon the mausoleum.
“I know the cemetery guards didn’t make up the attack,” she said. “But there’s nothing out here. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
“You think this succubus they saw will come back?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the mausoleum.
“I don’t know. But if it does, we’ll be back here again. Fast. The Matriarch was extraordinarily upset by this. I think her intuition—” Frowning, she paused mid-sentence. Several moments passed in silence and he didn’t respond. “Are you listening to me at all?”
His head flicked toward her. “The Matriarch’s intuition … um … sorry.” He flashed a sad apologetic smile. “Sorry, I was just—”
“Thinking about her ?” Ilsimia snapped. She touched his cheek. “Am I not enough? Why can’t you let her go?”
“I’m trying. I am. But it was more than love. I was trained from a young age to protect her. For Master Varenni, teaching me to adore Orisala was no different than teaching me to wield a sword. A man does not overcome such training in a day. But I will get there.”
Her face showed no emotion. “When did you last come here?”
“Three months ago. I swear I stopped coming, just like I promised I would.”
Ilsimia sighed. “I’m going to visit my parents’ graves. That will give you a few moments to make your peace. Make it well. You won’t be coming back here.”
She trudged away, her robes of palest gold skimming across the thick grass that grew alongside the cemetery’s paths.
“I failed you, Master Varenni,” Kedimius whispered, pushing a lock of brown hair from his face. “And you, Orisala. You most of all. I miss you so much. Gods, why can’t I get you out of my mind.” He cursed and tugged at his hair. “I love Ilsimia. She is kind and beautiful and so patient with me. But if I can’t get over you soon, I’m going to lose her.”
By the time Ilsimia returned, he’d shed a few tears and wiped them away. The sun was high enough now to illuminate the front of the mausoleum. With a puzzled look, Ilsimia scanned the ground.
“Did this place have a lot of visitors recently. Look how the turf was churned but has grown back.”
Startled out of his reverie, Kedimius glanced about. He knelt and studied the tracks. His brow furrowed. “I’m no scout, but I’d guess two or three horses were here, plus their riders.”
“But horses are forbidden in the High Cemetery.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t look recent. Unless …” He ran his fingers along the ground. “I think these tracks were covered. They’re not as old as they seem. How they were covered, I have no idea.”
She knelt at the door of the mausoleum. “Ked, you had better come see
Chapter 10
Seven Days Earlier
Tendrils of dawn-lit fog snaked between weathered mausoleums, cracked tombstones, and statues of little gods worshiped and little gods forgotten. With leaden steps, paired knights and priestesses drifted along the fog trails. After a half-night of aimless searching for some unknown, supernatural threat, they were leaving.
One pair paused in front of a small mausoleum typical of what the lesser nobility could afford. Engraved above the entrance was the Varenni name alongside the family crest.
The knight was Captain Kedimius Threnna, a dark-haired man of twenty-seven years who with plump, boyish cheeks barely looked seventeen. Over chainmail he wore a white surcoat bearing the emblem of the Imperial First Lancers: a gold heart overlaid by a vertical crimson sword.
The priestess Ilsimia Ulla, a sister of the Grand Order, the highest echelon of clergy within the Issalian Empire, stood beside him. Her face had fine, delicate features that gave her a classic beauty. Her limbs were long and slender. Honey-colored hair hung down her back, twisted into the knotted braid worn by all Seshallan priestesses. Her deep brown eyes studied Kedimius’s face as he gazed upon the mausoleum.
“I know the cemetery guards didn’t make up the attack,” she said. “But there’s nothing out here. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
“You think this succubus they saw will come back?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the mausoleum.
“I don’t know. But if it does, we’ll be back here again. Fast. The Matriarch was extraordinarily upset by this. I think her intuition—” Frowning, she paused mid-sentence. Several moments passed in silence and he didn’t respond. “Are you listening to me at all?”
His head flicked toward her. “The Matriarch’s intuition … um … sorry.” He flashed a sad apologetic smile. “Sorry, I was just—”
“Thinking about her ?” Ilsimia snapped. She touched his cheek. “Am I not enough? Why can’t you let her go?”
“I’m trying. I am. But it was more than love. I was trained from a young age to protect her. For Master Varenni, teaching me to adore Orisala was no different than teaching me to wield a sword. A man does not overcome such training in a day. But I will get there.”
Her face showed no emotion. “When did you last come here?”
“Three months ago. I swear I stopped coming, just like I promised I would.”
Ilsimia sighed. “I’m going to visit my parents’ graves. That will give you a few moments to make your peace. Make it well. You won’t be coming back here.”
She trudged away, her robes of palest gold skimming across the thick grass that grew alongside the cemetery’s paths.
“I failed you, Master Varenni,” Kedimius whispered, pushing a lock of brown hair from his face. “And you, Orisala. You most of all. I miss you so much. Gods, why can’t I get you out of my mind.” He cursed and tugged at his hair. “I love Ilsimia. She is kind and beautiful and so patient with me. But if I can’t get over you soon, I’m going to lose her.”
By the time Ilsimia returned, he’d shed a few tears and wiped them away. The sun was high enough now to illuminate the front of the mausoleum. With a puzzled look, Ilsimia scanned the ground.
“Did this place have a lot of visitors recently. Look how the turf was churned but has grown back.”
Startled out of his reverie, Kedimius glanced about. He knelt and studied the tracks. His brow furrowed. “I’m no scout, but I’d guess two or three horses were here, plus their riders.”
“But horses are forbidden in the High Cemetery.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t look recent. Unless …” He ran his fingers along the ground. “I think these tracks were covered. They’re not as old as they seem. How they were covered, I have no idea.”
She knelt at the door of the mausoleum. “Ked, you had better come see
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