The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith) (32 page)

The presence within Terin watched and waited. ~Father,~ it said, and the reassurance didn’t quite manage to chase away the cold of his uncertainty.

If he wanted to save her, he had to let the collar go. At first, he couldn’t force his hands to move at all. He stared down at the gold. The inner ring was stained brown with blood. His blood.

If he let it go, it wouldn’t hurt him anymore. He could help the girl.

He could be useful to someone. Wanted.

The collar slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

~*~

It happened faster than Blaise expected, and before the clatter of metal on the floor faded, he was out the door and headed to Aria’s workroom, leaving the woman sprawled on the floor in his wake. Her curses followed him. He managed to weave his way through the dolls without knocking any of them over in his haste.

Terin was still on the stool, but the boy’s face was so white Blaise feared he would fall before he could make it the few steps to his side. He slipped one arm behind Terin’s back to prevent him from sliding to the floor. Reaching up, he pressed his other hand to the bandage-wrapped throat. Even through the cloth, he could feel the fast and erratic heartbeat.

How much had it cost Terin to let go of the symbol of his slavery? Blaise couldn’t even imagine it. “You’re fine,” he whispered. The green eyes remained fixed on the pieces of the collar on the floor. With one sweep of his foot, he kicked them toward the door. “Aria!”

“Yes,” the woman replied in Erelithian. Blaise breathed a sigh of relief when she stooped to pick up the pieces.

“Out of sight,” he snapped.

“Yes,” she replied, and her smile was radiant.

Without the collar in view, the boy blinked, but Blaise doubted the unfocused stare saw anything at all. Reaching up with his free hand, he patted the pale cheeks, a little harder each time, until the green eyes snapped to him.

Terin’s right eye was rimmed in divine red, while the other was tinged with blue. Blaise sucked in a breath.

Mikael’s eyes.

When he’d saved the boy, the colors had been the reverse—Lucin’s eyes. Aria’s question rang in his ears and Blaise’s blood turned to ice within him.

How could Lucin’s vessel have Mikael’s eyes? Had Aria known something he didn’t?

If that were true, how could he have not noticed it?

Blaise took a deep breath, but he couldn’t catch even a hint of the divine’s scent. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

Still, he had to ask. “Mikael?”

Solemn eyes stared at him, but silence answered him. It filled him with terror and hope. The red and the blue faded away to nothing, leaving him with unconfirmed suspicions and fears. Was the color a trick by Lucin? Was it the unspoken desire for what had been and could never be again, or did Mikael reside somewhere within the boy with bright green eyes?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Terin asked in a trembling whisper.

Blaise swallowed and tried to ignore his thoughts for the sake of the boy—no, the young man—in front of him. “Rest. When you’re well, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

“My name is Terin,” Terin mumbled, and flinched as though expecting to be hit.

Blaise smiled and ruffled the short-cropped, black hair. The wide-eyed expression almost made him laugh. “And I’m Blaise. Welcome to House Rafel. May the light of His Garden shine down on you, son.”

Puzzlement darkened the boy’s green eyes. Then, Terin smiled.