Page 31 of The Dead Saint

“Who can guess at the mind of a god?” Domenico shrugged.

Sorcha turned away, scanning the room and the men in it. Her gaze fell on the Wolf, tall and dark, handsome features set in a scowl. He paced the room’s perimeter, one hand on the sword at his hip. For a moment, his eyes rested on her, and she blushed, wondering if he read the thought hovering at the top of her mind. Handsome. Monster.

“Where is the relic?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Sorcha shook her head, folding her arms across her chest.

Revenant walked past her, out of the small inner room into the open air of the temple beyond. Domenico and Juri followed. She could hear the others in the room beyond, talking in hushed tones, words lost, only the intention clear.

Anger. Frustration. Distrust.

“What aren’t you telling me?” the Wolf asked, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him.

He stared down at her with hard black eyes, the flickering light of the torch beside the door so far away, so distant, leaving her alone with this dark stranger. The voices in the other room faded as the men went back the way they’d come.

Sorcha opened her mouth, mind racing.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, voice so soft it barely registered.

“Why would I lie?” she asked with a swallow, the heat of his hand on her arm sinking into her, spreading out. “My goal is to resurrect my Saint. A goal I share with the prince.”

The Wolf narrowed his eyes as he took a step into her, crowding her backward. Sorcha took a step back, and he followed, his hand still locked around her arm. She stopped when she felt the smooth stone of the wall at her back. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the details of the Saint. My Saint. But was he? Even if her faith wavered?

“Vessel. Priestess. Oracle. Whatever you are, I don’t trust that your goal is the same as the empire’s.”

His eyes roved over her face, a line appearing between his brows. Sorcha breathed heavily, trapped between this man and the wall, held in place by his iron grip. Heat gathered between them, an uneasy sensation coiling in her belly.

“You’re seeking death,” she whispered, unable to stop herself.

The Wolf dropped her arm and stepped away from her, then strode across the empty space.

Sorcha pulled in a breath, smelling the dirt of the temple and the green of the trees crowded around it. A strange cold filled the space he’d occupied in front of her only seconds ago.

“No, priestess,” he said. “I am seeking life.”

In a rush, he was at the door with the torch in one hand. The fire danced, light shifting over his face, reflected in his black eyes. He indicated the door.

She hesitated, rubbing her arm.

“Come,” he said tersely. “There are other places to search.”

* * *

If the relic had been anywhere, it would have been in the sanctuary.

But it wasn’t.

They searched the remaining ruins, beating through the underbrush, moving fallen branches, even pulling up loose pavers. But no, it wasn’t anywhere to be found, no matter how hard they searched.

Sorcha felt a perverse kind of joy. The Wolf had failed to acquire one of the relics—the first relic he’d been sent to collect with her in tow. It would displease the prince, Sorcha knew it would, and maybe if the prince was unhappy, someone else would take over the Wolf’s position here.

The man who had killed the Golden Citadel and set fire to the rubble corpse.

Sorcha wanted to escape him as badly as she wanted things to be as they had been, as badly as she wanted to turn back all the hours and days, take back the fall of her city and home. She’d washed her hands hundreds of times, yet still she saw the blood on them, felt the sticky heat of something that could never be washed away.

Go back, go back to the way things once were.

What if the prince didn’t recall the Wolf? Or what if the replacement was worse? She didn’t want to find out, not really. The evil she knew might be better than the one she didn’t. But maybe the Wolf didn’t need to be recalled or replaced. Maybe she could walk away. Walk until she fell exhausted to the earth and wait until leaves covered her, hiding her from the curious eyes of the world.

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