The walk back to the temple is a long one. The sun is setting as I make my way through the city streets. I decide to enjoy the solitude and let my worries melt away as best as I can. I ignore the thoughts that have plagued me since discovering Malachi. I ignore the prospect of danger and the presence of murderers in my city. I ignore the idea that Silas and his mother might have wittingly led a dangerous man into our home.

            Rounding a corner onto a street that leads back to the temple, I tilt my face up to bask in the last orange light of the day.  A man walks along the street with a wick on a long pole. He sets fire to the oil street lamps lining the sidewalk. The lamps alight one by one, illuminating the twilight washed city. This street ends at the courtyard where acolytes will soon be lighting the central pit.

            I see a familiar figure at the end of this street, a hand propped up on her hip. A section of Jiera's long flowing black hair cascades over her left shoulder, her white gossamer dress flowing in the gentle breeze. The central pit blazes to life behind her, casting a red aura about her. She was waiting for me, I realize. A smile threatens to steal its way across my face, and I let it. I smile widely, breaking out into a run. My sandals slap against the pavement as I run the length of the street. The man who lights the street lamps wasn't expecting this burst of energy,  and nearly drops his wick pole. I draw nearer to Jiera, a smile lightening her own features. I realize I intend to hug her, only a few paces away now.

            I'm almost there, when Silas steps into view with his companion, Aedan close beside him. My smile falters. Images flash— the golden insignia of the sun cresting a mountain peak, blood glistening upon pavement in the dim lamplight, and the beaten body of Lord Hersch greets my mind's eye. I come up short of Jiera, my smile altogether vanishing from my face.

            "So they're cleared then?" I ask her, my eyes trained on Aedan and Silas.

            "Hello to you, too," Silas grumbles, crossing his arms. He doesn't seem particularly angry with me about his five year sojourn. Still, the  tension between us is undeniable and I want to vanish all the same.

            "Are you going to keep limping around on that leg, are you going to get it checked out?" My question is directed at Aedan, who stands there aloof. He doesn't appear too pleased to be in the city. The events of the day roll through my mind and I wonder where his training came from if not from the Black Robed Acolytes in the north as  he claims. Perhaps he is a soldier, and perhaps he is familiar with those men who attacked Malachi. I'll have to keep an eye on him then.

            "Are you offering to check me out?" A slow smile spreads across his face. He has a nice smile. Charming, even, if he weren't looking at me like a predator eyeing his prey. I decide to play along.

            "And if I was?" I challenge. Jiera balks at me, and Silas' eyes widen. He takes a few steps back, pulling Jiera along with him. They wasted no time picking up where they left off. I watch them walk back to the temple, though Jiera casts me a worried look over her shoulder. I smile reassuringly, hoping she can see in my eyes that I'll fill her in later. Aedan takes a step closer to me, but doesn't stop there. He moves impossibly closer until he's looking down at me, and I'm peering up at him. He's so close I can smell him— pine and dirt. The smell of travel. His eyes are a chestnut brown, warm and hard. Emotionless, really and truly, no trace of lust or mirth like the other boys who're only interested in getting lucky for the night.

      "In that case..." Aedan allows his voice to trail off, tilting his chin down to whisper in my ear. "You weren't,"  He says, suddenly dropping the facade. "Let's get out of here. You can take me to get checked out." I want to argue, but I realize that this could be beneficial toward learning more about him. He'll slip up eventually.

            Keep your enemies close.

            "As you wish, Mr. North." I watch him carefully. He doesn't so much as flinch, but when he looks at me, something is different. His guard is up, he won't bite so easily.

            "No fair. You have my full name, what am I to call you?"

            "You may call me... Lady Sinduril. You have those in the north, too, don't you? Lords and Ladies?"

            "Indeed we do, Lady Sinduril. Though such a title seems to pose a barrier to my learning your first name. How are we to become familiar?"

            "We aren't," I retort. A mischievous grin pulls at my lips.

            "You say that now," He muses, "But we will." He leads us at a steady pace toward the temple.

            "Doubtful," I say as we walk up the steps into the grand hall. We enter through the main doors, stepping into the beautiful room. Familiar oil paintings and sculptures salute our entry. Even the grandeur of the columns which support the ceiling above us is comforting in comparison to the woman before us now. Priestess Brielle stands, awaiting our entry. She's exchanging words with Jiera and Silas who both look displeased with the turn of events. I have the urge to turn around and march us right back out into the street before we become likewise ensnared in her web.

            Aedan looks at me, following my line of sight. I quickly drop my gaze. I lead him across the chamber and down a long corridor.

            "What's your issue with the priestess?" Aedan presses once we've cleared the room.

            "If this is your feeble attempt at small talk, pick another subject." I reply without sparing him a glance.

            "You're in a fine mood, aren't you?"

            "Oh, aren't you astute?" The retort rolls easily off my tongue.

            "If you don't want to talk about it, that's alright with me. I just thought it'd be easier. You know, talking to a stranger."

            "As opposed to my many friends?" Emotion passes like a shadow across his face, too quickly to read. Vanishing all too soon. I hadn't even considered he might have asked from a place of kindness rather than malice. I'm behaving as I had for the years Jiera shunned me, as if I were dejected by the world. A pathetic twinge of shame causes my insides to twist into knots.

            "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe not everyone is out to get you?"

            "I'm sorry." I mumble under my breath. "That was rude... And maybe a bit sarcastic."

            He raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed. Unless that's just what he wants me to think. Aedan wears his mask like a war medal— hard fought and heavy to carry. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into things. Paranoia will do that to you.

            "Don't feel sorry on my account," Aedan's pace is brisk. I have to actively refrain from peering at him. It doesn't help that he walks with all the power of a prowling lion. His shoulders are wider than his waist, but his lower body is anything but scrawny. My eyes trail down to his thighs, the dark fabric of his breeches pulled taught around defined quads. My attention snags on the patch of fabric darkened with dried blood, marking a wound on his thigh. He notices my staring and I quickly drop my gaze.

            "Where are we headed?" Aedan questions. Our steps echo down the long hallway. The student dorms are to our left, many identical doors and door frames all along the corridor. A small smile plays at his lips, and I realize what he's thinking.

            I clear my throat, "Not to my room, if that's what you're thinking."

            "Certainly not," He replies in a suggestive tone that makes me scowl.

            "I'm taking you to the bathing chambers so you can clean up," The tips of my ears turn beet red, and at that moment, the dorms seem like the lesser of two presumptuous ideas. "You stink." I add, for good measure.

            "I washed up in Teras, I can't smell that bad." He's grinning now, but quickly catches himself and lessens his smile.

            "Are you turning down a hot bath?"

            "No, no. I have dirt in places I didn't know dirt could be."

            "Okay, then. You will have a bath." We travel the rest of the way in silence, but voices echo from the end of the tunnel. They're too distorted to make out.

            Aedan marvels at the vastness of the cavern, but when his eyes settle on the bubbling hot springs an expression like amazement transforms his features. I can't help but smile, his tough exterior melts away leaving a boyish wonder in its place. The moment is short lived when I realize who occupies the bathing chamber.

            "Oooh, look at him," Rumi ogles Aedan like a piece of meat.

            "He looks dangerous," Azalea exclaims, her voice traveling easily over the water. "Look at that dagger!" The way she says the word dangerous, I wouldn't be surprised if she views such merely as a means to enhance his sex appeal.

            "I know, it's so sexy." Rumi replies. The girls are chest deep in the water, doing their best to appear sirenesque. I don't bother to hide my annoyance at their blatant attempts at seduction. I turn to Aedan, opening my mouth to suggest we come back later. The expression of unabashed amusement on his face causes my insides to twist.

            I storm out of the bathing chamber, refusing to bear witness to those girls sinking their claws into another unassuming male. Even if the male is never altogether unassuming.

            "Oh, Malia's pissed. Look at her face!" Azalea giggles. The echo of laughter follows me out of the chamber, but so does Aedan. He's hot on my heels, his strides matching mine in pace. I smile to myself, claiming this small victory over their mockery. He followed me, rather than fraternize with them.

            This time.

             My cheeks are pink, embarrassment claiming ownership over my face. This doesn't escape Aedan's notice. I pray he won't comment on it, but of course he does.

            "I'm still in dire need of a bath, you know," Aedan tells me.

            "I know. I'd just rather not bear witness as they throw themselves at you. It's disturbing."

            "You seem to have an issue with almost everyone we've come into contact with so far. I mean, those piranhas, I can come to my own conclusions about them."

            "Piranhas," I repeat the word, and nod my head in agreement. "Yes, that's what they are." I picture the toothy, ugly fish in my head. Satisfaction washes over me and I grin. I quickly catch myself and wipe the grin from my face. I won't let myself forget it— this man could be dangerous.

            "But why are you at odds with the priestess? She seems decent enough. You know, compared to that other woman. Vivienne." I run my hands over my face, my sour mood returning with the memory of my fight with Priestess Brielle.

            "Persistent, aren't you?" I say, staring straight ahead. We're coming to the end of the uphill walk to the surface. The end of the tunnel is in sight.

            "Persistent, curious," He says, waving a hand absently.

            "Do you often find satisfaction for your curiosity through means such as these?"

            "And what would those be?" He arches an eyebrow at me, as if genuinely unsure what I'm asking. Bullshit. I shake my head.

             Typical male. Resorting to an act of cluelessness when questioned.

            "Prying into the business of strangers." I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest. It's drafty in the corridor. A light breeze whisks past us and sends goosebumps up my arms.

            "Don't look at it that way. Pretend I'm an old friend. A close confidante."

            "Aedan!"

            "What?"

            "Leave it alone," I audibly groan.

            "You can't say there's no logic in confiding in a total stranger."

            "That's exactly what I'm saying," I can't help the small laugh that bubbles up in my throat. I struggle to choke it down. He's dead serious. "Fine, look, we had a fight. She said some fucked up things, I called her a hypocrite." But I can't tell him why. That would reveal excessive knowledge on my part, and if my suspicions are right, he would have cause to avoid me. Or kill me. Realizing I'd tensed up in my deliberation, I try to relax my muscles as subtly as I can.

            "Well, that is a hefty accusation," Aedan murmurs, but nothing in his demeanor displays doubt in my words.

            "No matter where you go, there are hypocrites," My voice sounds small to my own ears. "Even in a temple. Perhaps more so— it's harder to practice what you teach if nearly everything you do must be consciously monitored."

            "I guess pointing out that you've just cursed would be an excellent example, then?" He's joking, I think. His other smiles have felt forced— a tactic, a weapon almost. The way mine have often been— merely to keep up an appearance of wellness in order to prevent the priesthood from poking into my business— but this small upward curve of his lips is genuine. Such an expression transforms the stoic facade he's sported the past few hours. He looks lighter, as if a perpetual heaviness weighing him down is momentarily lifted. He catches my gaze. Our eyes meet, and I don't immediately drop my gaze. His smile fades. I wonder what he saw— maybe his own vulnerability was reflected in my eyes, as I saw mine in his? The moment is gone all too soon, and the characteristic darkness that clouds his eyes returns.

            Aedan clears his throat, "So, back to the subject of bathing." Am I imagining it or is he flustered? I hide a smile behind my hand even as he stares at the marble floor beneath our feet. I'm supposed to wait him out, wait for him to slip up, not let my own guard down. It's hard, so far. He keeps me on my toes and our banter flows easily. I can't help but like it. Maybe I can enjoy myself— just a little bit, and still discover his motives.

            "I mean, unless you want to bathe in a river or a lake, we can go to supper and we— I mean you, can bathe after. I've just shown you the way." Jiera and Silas approach from the other end of the hall, coming from the grand hall. They must have just finished their discussion with Priestess Brielle. Jiera is likely taking Silas to the baths, but she won't have the same problem with Rumi and Azalea as I had.

            Aedan says nothing though he's definitely put two and two together. As we pass the pair, Jiera gives me a questioning look.

            "Food," I mouth, unwilling to explain that I was driven from the bathing chamber by those piranhas as Aedan had so creatively— and accurately— called them. She'll figure it out on her own soon enough. Jiera nods subtly, then laughs at whatever Silas was saying to her.

            Jiera and Silas keep an awkward space between them, refusing to touch or to get too close. It makes sense, since they've been separated for so long. The awkward feelings between them before Silas left had never been addressed— now, they're past the age of that pre-teenage awkwardness. Jiera has grown into a slender, beautiful young woman, and Silas has grown into a man. His voice is deeper, he is taller. They'd nearly been matched in height before he left. A growth spurt and training have served him well. Corded muscles define his arms. Jiera is subtle, but the way her eyes are cast downward, I know she's admiring the veins along his forearms.

            "Well, that's unfortunate," Aedan waits until they've passed us by before speaking.

            "What?" I raise an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

            "They obviously like each other, anyone can see it."

            "But why is that sad?" I think I know the answer but I want him to verbalize it himself.

            "The way they dance around the obvious, avoiding the slightest touch. Life is too short."

            "Ah, so you're an expert on love, then?" I mean only to tease, but Aedan clenches his jaw.

            "No, I mean that people you love come and go, they never stay. Circumstances can be too uncertain to leave important words unsaid." I'm taken aback by the candor in his words. The raw emotion in his voice doesn't escape me. I'm left wondering about what— or rather who— in his past loved him and left.

—

            Aedan devours his dinner as if he's half starved. The journey from Holtz to Naidara is not an easy one. It's quite possible he actually was starving. We leave the dining hall together. The sun has set and the stars hang as if suspended by invisible threads in the night sky. Worries plague me, as they usually do, but the expanse of the heavens, and the blades of soft grass pricking my sandaled feet both comfort and ground me.

            I look up, and our eyes meet for a fraction of a second. I quickly find something else to stare at, but inevitably, my gaze is drawn back to his. I wouldn't be surprised if a magnetic force or some such power were behind the phenomenon. I refuse to believe anything less. We walk side by side without saying a word until Silas and Jiera materialize as if from thin air.

            "There you are," Silas grumbles.

            "The cooks insisted we find you so you can have a bath," Jiera says with a wide grin. "They say you've been stinking up their kitchen!"

            "I do need a bath," Aedan says with narrowed eyes, "But you tell those spoon wielding hobgoblins that I do not stink!"

            I laugh aloud, unable to help myself. The expression on his face, the glint in Jiera's pretty eyes. Silas' obvious annoyance. The scene in whole is downright comedic to me at this moment.

            "Go, Aedan," I say, barely suppressing the laughter that bubbles up in my throat. "Jiera and I have some things to discuss, anyhow."

            "We do?" She asks, raising a brow.

            "We do," I nod.

            "Alright then," Silas sighs. "Let's go. I'll see you later, Jiera."

            "See you," She calls. I take her by the hand and whisk her away to the dorms.

            Jiera and I walk in tempestuous silence. There are words that need to be said, truths we both have come to realize, and hopes that may well be shattered. But I will say what I must say regardless of Jiera's feelings. Silas and Aedan cannot be trusted. Perhaps it's my own imagination, but I think I hear music floating about the hallway, coming from a door at the end of the hall. The song grows louder, unmistakable in the otherwise silent corridor. I stop in my tracks.

            "Do you hear that?" I strain to hear the notes more clearly, but the harder I listen, the further the sound drifts out of range of hearing.

            "Hear what?" Jiera looks at me, confused as I've ever seen her.

            "The music!" I hiss. "Listen."

            Jiera goes silent, her perplexed scowl only deepening. The music stops. I wait for it to start up again, but it doesn't.

            After a few long seconds of silence, she says, "I hear nothing."

            But I did. We continue walking. We make it half way down the hall before I hear it again. The music rises in volume as it did before, clearer to me now. An unfamiliar, yet familiar tune. A conundrum and a paradox. The music floats about the corridor, pure and tantalizing. I almost swear I can see it wafting, swirling about on the air. Jiera looks at me as if I've gone mad, but the longer I listen, the more certain I am— an ethereal voice is singing along in words I've never heard before:

            Now to see, Now to hear

            Sing this song and be joyous,

            Despite the pain and the fear

            Fire shall come before us,

           When he reaps, the world will cry

           When He sleeps, the world may die,

           Lest the one whose strength is more,

           Reign in flame and enthrone them

            The song ends on a low note, leaving me with a foul sense of foreboding accompanied by this strange eerie silence. Jiera keeps looking at me both worriedly and confusedly. I try to ignore the judgment practically radiating off of her. Maybe Aedan drugged my dinner. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Whatever the case, I still need to speak to Jiera, alone. This can't wait.

            We approach my bedroom, and I usher Jiera inside, quickly closing the door behind us. I immediately plop down on my bed, running a hand over my face. Jiera stands before me, her hands propped on either hip.

            "What is this about, Malia?"

            "Silas," I sigh. "And Aedan."

            "What about them?" Jiera asks in a defensive tone. Already, I feel this conversation going downhill.

            "I don't think they've been entirely honest about their purpose here," I speak slowly, choosing my words carefully.

            "Are you serious right now?" Jiera retorts.

            "Yes, I'm serious! They just happen to show up? Hardly more than a month after the High Priest is murdered?" I think I make a pretty good point, but Jiera only looks more heated by the second.

            "The Court ruled in their favor. Do you really think you know better than our leaders? I was there too, you know! They just looked tired from traveling. Who's to say Holtz even has anything to do with the murders?"

           "What about the letter, Jiera? Priestess Brielle forged the dates on that letter. You saw it the same as I. She must have thought it was incriminating in some way if she specifically changed those details!" She isn't listening to reason. I feel the tension hanging heavy between us, my own anger rising in response to her stubbornness.

            "So, she wanted her son back, and she wasn't willing to leave that up to chance. There are other explanations, Malia." Jiera's voice returns to its normal level just as we were about to escalate into a shout.

            "Look, I wasn't trying to fight with you. I wanted to talk to you. Call me paranoid, but something about this just doesn't feel right."

            "Alright, I'm sorry I snapped like that. I just got defensive because, you know, I just got him back. I don't want him to leave again."

            "I get that, I really do, and that's why I didn't say something sooner, but I couldn't shake this feeling. Did you see their horses? The Holtic Military emblem was on everything."

            "If it will make you feel better, I'll keep an eye out. And an ear out. Maybe it is too good to be true..." Jiera trails off. She sits down beside me with a huff.

            "That's all I'm asking," I say, gratitude seeping into my voice.

            "I'm surprised really," Jiera muses, tapping a finger to the tip of her chin. I raise my eyebrows.

            "Surprised about?"

            "Well, you've been letting Aedan follow you around everywhere. If I didn't know better I'd think you like him," Jiera looks at me, her eyes gleaming.

            "Don't be silly," I roll my eyes.

            "In fact, maybe that's why you're acting so paranoid!" Jiera exclaims triumphantly.

            "No, not at all," I grumble, shaking my head profusely.

            "Or, it could be the fact you've been having full on hallucinations," Jiera deadpans. She twirls a strand of her glossy black hair, the purple sky darkening to midnight blue through the window behind her.

            I want to deny it, tell her I wasn't hallucinating at all. But the words sound false even inside my own head. So I stand, occupying myself instead with a box of matches. I light the oil lamp sitting on its shelf by my bed. The little wick flickers to life with a hiss, and lights the room with its faint, orange glow.

            "Seriously," She says. "I'm a bit worried about you."

            "Maybe there was music," I snap. "Somebody could easily have been playing a flute out in the courtyard, or a piano in the grand hall..." I trail off.

            "Or you're just tired," Jiera says with a laugh. "Or high..."

            "Oh yeah, uh-huh, that must be it," I deadpan.

            "Nevermind, I forgot who I'm talking to. You wouldn't dare," She's teasing. I smile to myself, then move behind her on my bed, sitting back on my knees as I begin weaving a braid into her hair.

            "Today with you and Silas," I prod, leaning to the side to see her expression. "Things have gone well? I mean, you seem to have just... Picked up where you left off."

           A wistful expression steals across Jiera's face and she says, "Yes. Well, we're still a little awkward I guess. But he's so tall and he's handsome! Did you see his biceps? Oh my God, Malia. He's so grown up."

           I grin widely, sitting back to continue the braid. I'm happy for her, I really am. It seems meant to be, in a way. They've always been inseparable. I was just the third wheel. And maybe, if Aedan isn't behind the murders...

            Malachi's face pops into my head, unbidden, but certainly not unwelcome. I realize there's a bit more I have yet to share with my friend. I finish off Jiera's braid and tie it off with a bit of twine from my bedside table. I sit criss crossed on the bed, patting a space beside me.

            "I actually have something else to share with you," I tell her. Jiera moves to the spot, pulling her slender legs up to her chest.

            "Oh?" She asks with a raise of her eyebrow. "What is it?"

            I steel myself against the nerves wracking through me, and begin to tell my tale. I don't stop until I've told Jiera every detail of the night I went with Eris Filleck to visit Malachi in the healer's house. With emphasis on his comatose state, and the fact it can't be he who murdered the High Priest, because the real culprits left him half dead in an alley...

            When I finish speaking, Jiera simply nods, taking it all in. She isn't mad, but she doesn't seem entirely pleased I'd kept this from her, either. We say goodnight, promising to see each other tomorrow after our classes. And with that, I'm left to myself. Before long, my lamp's oil burns out. I drift off to sleep, that eerie melody weaving itself into my dreams

            Lest the one whose strength is more, Reign in flame and enthrone them...