Savage Messiah

CHAPTER LXIV

Two hours later, Celeste stood at the window of her personal quarters. Despite the sadness of the immolation ceremony, the night still seemed beautiful, peaceful. She silently blessed the fact that her view did not overlook the flaming funeral pyres.

The cool evening wind wafted gently into the room. The stars twinkled down at her as though she were the only person in creation. Normally these things would have given her great pleasure, but not just now. Another wave of awful pain came over her, and she was forced to go sit on the bed.

The first attack had come during the lighting of the pyres. The grinding, exquisite pain felt like thousands of tiny needles stabbing into the very essence of her being. It had lasted only a few moments, but that had been an eternity. As the pain recurred, she had done her best to hide it from the others, and she believed that no one had noticed.

As this latest attack subsided, her hands shook and she was bathed in sweat. Closing her eyes, she silently prayed that no one would see her like this-at least not for a while. If these attacks worsened with the progression of her illness, she knew she would not be able to keep them secret for long.

She had told Tristan only part of the truth about why she wanted to visit these rooms. As his new wife, she would take up residence with him in his quarters. She had told him that she needed to come here to collect some of her things. The rest could be delivered by the Minions later, she had said.

Her real reason was that she needed time to think. She was acutely aware of how guilty Tristan already felt about her condition-and how intensely worried he was about all of the other troubles plaguing the nation. She knew that if these attacks continued, soon there would be no way she could keep him from seeing them. Before that day arrived, she wanted to sort things out for herself-especially before she left with Tristan and her father to search for the Scroll Master. Once they departed the palace, she might never have the luxury of another private moment.

Standing on shaky legs, she walked back to the window. An idea had been brewing in her mind ever since she and Tristan had been told about her condition. She was aware that he was trying to be as supportive as he could. But each of them knew that it was what they did not say that somehow always seemed to negate whatever assurances they gave one another. A dark cloud hung over them that could be banished in only one of two ways: if they found the Scroll Master soon and he agreed to help them, or if she were to die.

She went to her writing table and sat down. She selected some paper and carefully dipped the quill in ink. Pausing for a moment, she gathered her thoughts.

Three false starts lay torn up on the desk before her note was finally finished. Folding the letter, she placed it into an envelope and sealed it with red wax. Almost as an afterthought, she walked the letter to her dresser and she sprinkled it lightly with myrrh. Then she packed the few things that she had told Tristan she had come for and hid the letter among them.

Her belongings in her arms, Celeste looked around the room for what she feared might be the last time. After blowing out the candle on the desk, she left the room, softly closing the door behind her, and walked down the hall to join her new husband.