Fifty-four

Cyran sat very still as the goddess rested her head in his lap and gazed up at him.

“No one has ever done this with you, have they?” 

“No, Di-”

“Eludora, please, little one, we’re alone.” Her smile was impish. “Was there never anyone you wanted to be close to? No one you wanted to have lie in your lap while you stroked their hair?” 

He flushed realizing his hand had come to rest on the top of her head. “Not that I can think of. I was never interested…” Thinking for a moment he realized it wasn’t entirely true. “The only woman I ever… who ever made me think of…” 

Glancing down, he realized Eludora was grinning at him and he frowned at her. She broke into laughter. “Little one! There is no shame in it. Who is this woman who makes you feel loving and confused?”

“Syreilla.”

Eludora’s brows rose. “I thought she was with Vezar Edra?”

“She is. To see them together… something feels wrong, like watching a bird nest with a snake. She’s beautiful and at times so gentle and charming… patient. And he’s…”

“Does she fill you with desire?” The goddess in his lap studied his face.

“I… I want to be near her. The sound of her laugh…” 

“Little one, you care for her. Is she family or is she something else to you?”

“I…” Cyran shook his head, “I don’t know. I’ve never considered,” he paused, “desire. As a child I only wanted to be a priest. At first I wanted to be like Brother Somi who raised me, to stay in the monastery in Caoria and live a quiet life. He encouraged me to become more, and I became a White Hand. The best of the White Hands, I led them. There was nothing more I could aspire to except to serve well.”

“Syreilla gave you more.” Eludora reached up and touched his face. “She began to show you how to do things on your own, how to draw power and how to use it. Her understanding is not complete, she is young and has a great deal to learn herself, but she’s opened a new world for you. 

“Has she given you any reason to believe she has feelings of desire for you?”

He took a moment to consider their discussions, “No. She can be playful and teasing but she’s never made me think that, and she’s been clear that her affection for the King Undying is unwavering. I…”

She caressed his cheek and he looked down to find her smiling warmly, “You want unwavering affection for yourself. A beautiful, gentle, and charming woman, a woman of patience to love and adore you.” 

An entirely unfamiliar feeling shot through him like lightning and she broke into peels of laughter, sitting up and wrapping her arms around him. 

“Oh, little one. That was desire.” Eludora kissed his cheek. “I’ll help you find the right one. Your uncle and father aren’t the only ones who choose to make the occasional half mortal child. Though your uncle is the only one who hides them as completely as he can and conceals himself from them.”

“My…” Having been commanded not to call Imos ‘Father’ he struggled to do it. “He concealed from me that I was…” 

“Yes. Most of us do that. Our children are gifted and often become our highest priests, we speak to them and show ourselves without deception, but they rarely know the truth. Odos conceals from his children that he is a god.” As if anticipating his next question she added, “It is exceptionally rare that our children become… more. But it does happen. I can introduce you to some of the others if you wish. Most linger in their parent’s shadows. Syreilla the Rook…”

“I can’t imagine her lingering in anyone’s shadow.” He couldn’t help but smile. “When you meet her, you’ll understand.” 

“This is why your father is so furious.” Eludora smiled, shaking her head, “You adore your cousin, despite the fact that she’s punishing him.”

“Vengeance isn’t just but she admires justice administered well and fairly. My cousin-”

The goddess pulled away and held up her hand for a moment. “Your cousin has stolen Silfeya’s stone. Three in three days would have been difficult even for Odos… He’s been lending his daughter his luck and his aid.” She sighed and pressed her delicate fingers to her temples, “Be grateful she left you here with me. Silfeya may be the goddess of the harvest and home but she’s got a temper. She wants to put you to death to draw Syreilla out.”

Cyran swallowed and tried to think of what to say. 

“You’ll be safe here, little one.” Eludora gave him a rueful smile. “I’ll have Riellan summon your uncle. He can attempt to soothe her temper.”