HOLD AT THE GATES

Elaris's POV

I stay exactly were the guards left me.

Between them.

At the shrine gates.

Above the tree line the blood moon is climbing into the sky, massive and red to the edges of the cloud cover.

The shrine hall is perhaps a quarter bow shot from where I stand.

I can see the steps leading up to the hall.

I can see the torches mounted along the walls.

I can see the examination chamber beyond the open gate, prepared and waiting.

It does not want me to come inside.

I let my hands hang loose at my sides, forcing myself not to worry about my belly.

The child has been quiet since the ride began.

That bothers me more than I care to admit.

I draw in a slow breath through my nose and tell myself the healer said we were in good health when we left the eastern wing.

Nothing has changed inside me simply because the council changed their minds outside of me.

I feel the cold creeping into my bones through my dress.

I do not want to complain.

Tonight I have discovered discomfort is more manageable than fear.

The waiting stretches out before me, empty of answers.

The council escorts talk in small groups, a few paces away.

Every few minutes someone looks back toward the road leading back to the palace.

The palace warriors do the same, watching.

No one deigns to tell me if Maevra is recovering.

No one tells me if Averic has left her side.

I finally ask the nearest guard, "Has the Alpha sent word?"

His face stays carefully composed.

"No."

"Has anyone?"

"No."

That is all I get.

I turn back toward the moon.

The examination should have begun by now.

The healers should have been setting up the tools for testing.

The council should have been watching the first numbers appear on the board.

Instead the shrine gates have become something of a waiting chamber.

This one without walls.

The moontime continues, rising higher and higher in the sky while we pretend to be ready for it.

I know better.

Every moment gives someone new the opportunity to alter the evidence surrounding the examination.

Another escort comes through on the opposite path.

I recognize the pale color of the cloak before I see the woman hidden beneath it.

Virelle.

Her guards lead her toward a different entrance to the shrine.

They do not bring her this way.

She does not protest.

Her hand rests lightly against her stomach, her poise carefully arranged despite the chill in the air.

Even from a distance I can see how she arranges herself for display.

Concerned.

Fragile.

Pregnant.

Harmless.

The illusion is almost perfect.

Almost.

For one long moment her gaze meets mine across the expanse of the shrine grounds.

Her expression does not change.

Neither does mine.

Then Virelle turns toward the shrine doors and disappears behind them, her escort fading from sight along the outer wall.

I turn back toward the moon.

Yet another rider comes through from the palace.

He reclaims his horse from the nearest council guard and dismounts quickly.

The lead guard talks to him, and this time I hear enough to understand the short order.

Averic remains with Maevra.

The council has taken temporary control over the examination schedule.

Both women remain at the shrine under guard until further notice.

The rider does not stay long enough for me to ask him anything at all.

I watch the trail he took to the shrine gates.

"He is still with her?"

The guard nods.

I very nearly ask if Maevra is awake.

I stop myself.

If they had news to share with me, they would have shared it.

Instead I ask the only question that matters.

"Has the examination been cancelled?"

"No."

That single word is enough to keep me from losing what little nerve I have left.

Not tonight.

Not yet.

The examination still exists.

The blood moon still rises, and despite whatever stall they create I will still be here when it reaches its peak.

After another long stretch of waiting I am allowed inside the outer shrine wall.

There is a stone bench beneath an overhang in the ancient structure.

The guards take up a loose perimeter around it and I sit down carefully, testing the cold surface of the stone.

Someone offers a folded piece of cloth to use as a cushion and I take it, grateful.

No one says anything.

The shrine grounds feel different beneath the blood moon.

I miss the sounds of the palace, the bustle of servants from one wing to the next, the occasional door opening.

Healers rushing from their chambers.

It is all gone, save for the occasional shift of armor as the guards talk among themselves.

I turn my gaze toward the examination hall.

The great doors are still open, everything within prepared and waiting.

The people.

The tools.

The moon.

Only I am left waiting outside the threshold.

I press my hand against my stomach.

The child responds, a barely perceptible shift beneath my fingers.

I close my eyes and whisper, "That is enough."

I do not need anything more from tonight to know my child is safe.

The hours blur together in uneasy tension.

I stop watching the moon every few minutes and focus instead on things I can control.

The steady rhythm of my breathing.

The set of my shoulders.

The thoughts chasing through my skull like startled birds.

The examination has been postponed, but it has not been cancelled.

Whatever has happened to Maevra, the council will still have to face the evidence surrounding the blood-moon examination.

Virelle will still have to endure it.

As will I.

The facts have not changed simply because the timing is inconvenient.

I repeat the thought as often as I need to in order to silence the doubts.

My child moves against my fingers again.

This time I feel it.

I smile despite myself.

"You're still here."

My fingers remain against my skin.

"I know."

The moon rises higher and higher.

The longer I wait the more certain I am of something else.

Whoever wanted the examination to stop did not have to destroy the shrine.

They simply needed to give the council enough reason to hesitate.

And they have done that.

Near the middle of the night movement comes from the road.

A small party of the council approaches the shrine, Lord Sennik walking at the front.

He does not hurry.

That alone is enough to tell me the news is not good.

He exchanges a few quiet words with the lead guard before coming to a stop several feet away from me.

I rise to my feet and one of the guards adjusts his stance as though reminding himself I am not allowed to cross the invisible barrier surrounding me.

Sennik studies me for the first time.

"How long has the Alpha been with his mother?"

"Since the last collapse."

"Is she conscious?"

He hesitates, and the pause is enough to tell me the answer.

"I have news for you," he says carefully.

I wait.

He looks toward the examination hall before continuing, "We need to talk about the examination."

My stomach tightens.

"Because of Maevra?"

"Yes."

He does not try to pretend otherwise.

Sennik tells me Maevra has suffered another collapse, and this one is stronger than the last.

Her essence has fallen sharply and the healers are having difficulty bringing her back up.

Averic remains at her side and the council has put the examination on hold in order to determine if the latest crisis is natural or induced.

I do not interrupt as he explains the situation, only listening to the sound of his voice against the wind that stirs the trees.

When he is done speaking I think of Maevra lying in that chamber, fragile and still fighting.

Waiting for an opportunity to speak.

"Did the healers say what was the cause?"

"Not yet."

"Then you don't know if it was another attack."

"We know what happened.

Her condition deteriorated suddenly."

I look at him.

"And the examination?"

"Suspended until the council understands what happened."

The answer is carefully worded, but I understand it nonetheless.

I only ask one question.

"Is she alive?"

Sennik's expression does not change, but something in it shifts.

"Yes."

The relief is so strong it nearly knocks me to my knees.

I sit back down on the bench and let the knowledge settle into my bones.

Alive.

That is enough, for now.

Lord Sennik does not move away.

He knows it will not last, and neither does he.

I look toward the trees and the distant sight of the palace.

Averic is there, with Maevra.

I want to ask him if she opened her eyes.

If she knows what is happening.

If she asked about me.

If he has been told I am still waiting outside the shrine gates.

None of it matters, not really.

I am separated from him by orders, distance, and a worsening crisis that seems to intensify the closer the blood moon gets.

Sennik finally says, "We are not declaring her lost."

I look at him.

"You said she is alive."

"Yes."

"Then that is what I will hold on to."

Sennik gives me the next piece of information.

Because Maevra's collapse happened while I was under full council escort, the timing is different this time.

I was not near her chamber at all, and I certainly did not have access to her medicine.

I had not entered the private wing, and every movement of my escort has been witnessed.

For once the facts do not place me at the scene of the crime.

Sennik nods carefully, "The council must consider other hands."

The words are almost as good as silence.

Almost.

I have spent so long being found at the center of every suspicious activity that hearing someone be so careful about considering another suspect feels like an unfamiliar illness.

But I know better than to rejoice.

The council is not saying I am innocent.

Only that they are unable to place me at the scene of Maevra's collapse.

It is a difference with very real implications.

"Will that be recorded?"

Sennik studies the question.

"The circumstances will be recorded."

Nothing more.

No admission of guilt or innocence, only the cold statement of facts.

It is enough, but it is not nearly enough.

I look toward the red moon and for the first time tonight the blade aimed at me seems to have shifted, just slightly.

Not vanished, only moved.

The reprieve is short lived.

Sennik reminds me the council's temporary protection still stands.

Neither Virelle nor I may leave the shrine grounds before dawn.

The examination remains suspended, and no one is allowed to visit or be visited without the approval of the entire council.

The blood moon will continue its business regardless of what the council decides.

I look toward the entrance to the shrine hall.

"So we wait."

"Yes."

"For Maevra."

"Yes."

"And the examination."

"If it resumes."

The words catch in my throat.

"If?"

Sennik does not answer.

I understand.

The council may delay the examination once again if Maevra's condition takes a turn for the worse.

Perhaps for the final time.

I press my back against the stone wall and watch the moon rise above the roofline of the shrine, its red light spilling over the ground where I sit.

I think about my child, the examination that was supposed to begin tonight, and the truth that waits behind those gates.

Then I hear the horses approaching at a fast gallop.

A rider enters the shrine grounds, a dead run from the road leading back to the palace.

He dismounts before his horse has come to a complete stop and approaches Sennik directly, saying something I cannot hear.

At first I assume it is nothing more than a report, but the change in Sennik's posture tells me otherwise.

He asks the messenger to repeat what he said.

The rider complies, and Sennik looks toward the shrine, then toward me.

For a long moment he does not speak at all.

When he finally turns to face the group of guards, his voice is quiet but firm.

"Maevra Thorne is not expected to survive the night."

The words cut deeper than the cold ever could.

Sennik continues, "The Alpha has been informed."

My fingers curl against the surface of the stone bench.

Then comes the part that makes my stomach drop.

"The last person recorded in her chamber before the final collapse was the night attendant who prepared her evening medicine."

I look at him, waiting for more.

When he speaks again, I realize he has finished.

"The same attendant who once opened the east gate for Virelle Drazyn."

No one speaks.

The moon hangs directly above the shrine roof, red light spilling over the tops of the trees.

Maevra is dying, and the person who might have testified against Virelle is the last recorded person in her chamber.

The examination that could have proven Virelle's lies remains on hold, behind those shrine gates.

I turn toward the palace where Averic still waits with his mother.

If Maevra dies tonight, the council will not only have to contend with the loss of a Luna.

They will have to determine who was responsible for the final dose of medicine.

The same attendant who once served the network is now the last person recorded in Maevra's chamber.

My name does not appear in that list of possible suspects, but I know how quickly the council can decide someone else is guilty when the chosen witness is no longer available to speak for herself.

The blood moon rises above us, the shrine gates remain closed, and somewhere beyond the tree line Maevra fights to live through the night.