Page 15 of The Moon Blessed King
That seems rather pragmatic, all things considered. But it carries with it a sense of spiritual depth that Elician is not prepared to fully consider. What if Death denies Cat? What if she wants Gillage to rule? They will never be able to convince the country to turn against the boy if a literal deity deems him fit. Perhaps, then, the best that can be hoped for is securing Soleb’s borders, but Cat’s Reapers would be lost and their promise for peace would be meaningless.
‘What would I have to do?’ Cat asks. ‘For this ritual?’
Laure takes her time in replying, and when she speaks it is slow and precise. ‘You will need to stand in the Temple of Death in Alerae and accept her judgement, whatever that may be.’ It would mean crossing the entire country once again. The same journey Elician only just escaped from. It would be weeks of riding back across the well-trodden land, to place them both in the seat of a city that neither yearns to see again.
Cat refused to even contemplate taking the Alelunen crown if it meant being there alone amongst the vipers and the snakes. Elician did not blame him in the least. He wouldn’t have been able to accept such a thing either. It was inevitable that they would need to return, but Elician wishes dearly that they had more time. Adalei wished for the very same as well. She pressured them for it. Insisted on writing to Partho first and foremost. Allies would be better than no allies. But if it will all come down to a god’s judgement…would those allies even matter?
Alelune takes its fealty to Death very seriously. No mortal attachment would supersede her will.
‘And my brother would allow me to issue such a challenge?’ Cat asks.
‘In this,’ Laure replies grudgingly, ‘Death is the only one who can decide the outcome. All previous claimants have been permitted the chance to try.’
Cat bites his lip, seems to realize he did it and stops as soon as he started. He nods. ‘All right, I will go to Alerae and challenge Gillage before Death. But…I ask that Gillagenotrestart the war in the meantime.’
‘I cannot guarantee such a thing, but I can issue the request,’ Laure says in turn. ‘When will you come to Alerae?’
Cat hesitates. He glances at Elician, and Elician realizes he has no answer to give. His own coronation is looming, his own lands and lords need to be consulted, but then…
‘Three months,’ Elician replies for them both. ‘Give us three months and safe passage, and we’ll be there.’
‘We?’
‘My uncle dishonoured our country by killing your queen where she should have been safe. I will accompany Alest to Alerae as a gesture to my commitment to the necessity that this war must end, one way or another.’
‘And if Alest should fail during the challenge?’ Laure asks.
‘Then I will be there to negotiate with Gillage in person the terms for peace between our nations, as should have been done with my uncle and Queen Alenée.’ He doesn’t have much hope for that prospect. But it will be all he can do. ‘Afterwards, however, in such a scenario,bothAlest and I will return to Soleb, together.’ Cat would never be prisoner in those Reaper cells again, and Elician cannot countenance a plan that has them walking back to Alerae only to see that transpire.
A letter has already been sent to Captain Partho, requesting him to stand for Cat. If there is a positive response, the captain could provide the requisite escort and ensure they are unharmed. If his honour holds true, then he will make sure Cat and Elicianreturnunharmed as well. Though if he rejects their call for aid…Elician does not know what they’ll do. But that is a plan he can make once they have an answer. It should come soon. He hopes it comes soon.
Laure sips at her tea. She holds the cup with both hands, lettingit warm her skin. When she asks, ‘Is this the message you wish me to convey?’ there is resignation in her tone. Elician wonders what it is she decided in those long moments of reflection. But her thoughts are not the ones that matter most now. Only Gillage’s response matters.
‘Yes,’ he confirms.
‘Yes,’ Cat acquiesces.
‘Then we will put it to writing,’ Laure confirms. It takes them only a few minutes more to get the documentation together. They sort out the particulars, times and dates and assurances. Extra leeway is padded on to ensure the message can be delivered and responded to in due course.
When she leaves, Elician asks Cat: ‘Do you think Death will accept you?’
And with more bravado than Elician has ever seen Cat display, his betrothed responds: ‘She has already made me her Reaper, what else could anyone do to prove themselves to her?’ And just for a moment, Elician cannot help but think that maybe they might finally, finally, have something going their way.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cat
Preparation for Elician’s coronation takes priority over the next few days. He is whisked off by countless people that Cat never knows the names of, paraded through the introduction of ritual after ritual, then told he needs to burn at least three prominent sun patterns into his skin before the day itself. This has the benefit of making him lie out in the sun, unmoving and – more often than not – dozing with dark stencilling spread out on his bare chest and arms. He never sleeps well at night, and regardless of the reason for it, Cat’s glad that Elician finds at least some rest here or there throughout the day.
Marina seems to have been elected as Cat’s liaison, and she talks him through his own expectations. She asks his opinion on matters of such little consequence that he struggles to come up with an answer. He doesn’t care about flower arrangements or the cut of his jacket. ‘In all your time at Kreuzfurt there isn’tonegarden or flower you took a particular fancy to?’ She sighs. ‘Just name anything.’
‘What Fransen liked, then. Do that.’ The elderly Reaper had been his guide when he first arrived at Kreuzfurt. Solebens enjoy honouring their dead. It would be respectful to their culture at the very least. And Marina looks suitably impressed with the recommendation, so he supposes he has done something right.
He lets her fit him for a proper crown and a new set of clothes, but cannot muster up any deeper well of enthusiasm. Every day that passes is another day closer to their eventual departure. It is both too soon and too far. He wants the waiting to be over. He wants reality to set in fully, and no one seems to have any response to give for the questions he wants the answers to the most.
‘What do you know about this ritual?’ he asks Marina. ‘I can’t find it in any books.’
‘I doubt it’dbein any books here,’ Marina replies. ‘And it was something that came after my time in Alelune – I have no idea what they came up with. What did Laure say exactly?’
