Page 3 of Nocte

“You were gone, girl,” Lord Master says, their voice eerily flat. “Where?”

“I…Nowhere.” My heart won’t stop racing as if betraying me with every beat.Liar. Liar. Liar.

“It is noon,” the Lord Master says. “Your chores, child. What do they consist of?”

I swallow hard, relieved by a relatively simple question. “I clean the archives and dust the catacombs. I sweep and return the books to their proper shelves. I repair and catalog the older volumes.”

And I read those volumes, huddled over candlelight—a skill that isn’t allowed. When I was younger, the Lord Master taught me only the runes necessary to recognize a title and return it to its proper shelf. The bare minimum. Yet I went further. Not out of disobedience, I told myself then. I learned to fulfill my sole purpose all the better.

But a well-meaning sin is still a sin.

“The Citadel Mother was kind enough to show me to the catacombs and the archives,” the Lord Master remarks, drawing my attention back to them. “You were not there.”

I stiffen. “I… I was?—”

“Though you were born ungifted and forsaken, you do possess one small quality, child. What is it?”

I clear my throat and croak, “Honesty, Lord Master.”

“Honesty,” the Lord Master echoes, turning the word into a dirty sin. A lowly crown. A curse. “With that in mind, I want you to answer me now. Where were you, child?”

There is no point in lying. “I was on the roof, watching the courtyard.”

Out in the sun.

The silence is deafening. I can’t stop shifting my weight from foot to foot. The poor Lord Master is so stunned by my debauchery. It takes them several tries to choke out a response.

“Where you can beseen?”

I shake my head. “No, Lord Master. I remain out of sight always...” My voice breaks. I lied. The vamryer saw me, but no one is allowed on these grounds. No one. Therefore, it cannot be a lie to say…

“Is there an event taking place?” I ask. Suddenly, that lone contradiction makes far more sense. “One involving the vamryer? I am sorry if I?—”

“Vamryer?” The Lord Master’s cold tone chills me to the core. “Recite your purpose to me, child. In full.”

“I am an unwanted creature, claimed by no clan,” I say softly. “I owe my life to you, Lord Master, and the sanctity of the Citadel. Honesty is my only quality, and obedience is my only task. I must never be seen and never be heard by those untouched by my wickedness.”

“Does your task include venturing beyond those walls?” they ask, their voice an angry hiss. “Or questioning?”

“No.”

Since I was a child, I have never left the grounds—at least not in the strictest sense. The roof is part of the tower complex, as are the winding caves beyond the catacombs. Never am I seen, therefore…

It isn’t a lie to say as much.

“I am sorry, Lord Master,” I say, desperate to fill the silence. “I shouldn’t have?—”

“You must atone.”

My heart drops to the pit of my belly. Atone. I must. For I have sinned, so I must atone in the hope of forgiveness.

“Did you hear me, child?” the Lord Master snaps. I haven’t moved.

“Yes.” I spin around and finger the front of my plain gray robes. They are so ugly in comparison to the Lord Master’s—a brilliant white that radiates purity and perfection.

My cheeks flame as I unhook the metal clasps holding the front of my robes together and let them fall just enough to expose my lower back.

“Recite your purpose,” the Lord Master commands, their steps slow and assured as they move closer.

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