Page 18 of Hallowed Games

I glanced back at her to find her looking nauseous but recovered.

Ice flowed through my blood. Here we went—my oldest friend and I, marched off to our deaths. We’d always said we’d stick together until the end.

* * *

CHAPTER 9

Among the accused, I walked at the rear of a cart, hands tied behind my back, a rough rope around my neck. Maelor, immune to my touch, had carefully slid the gloves back onto me, handling my lethal hands as though they were delicate.

I loathed him.

Luminari walked on either side of us, some mounted, some on foot.

My worst fears were now blooming into a dark reality, a garden of nightmares. Captured by the Luminari, and Leo out there on his own.

A mounted Luminarus rode a horse just ahead of us, dragging the cart through a small city called Thistlehaven. The Order was intentionally taking us through populated areas—four to a cart, a public display. See what happens when you defy us?

My little group led the grim parade. We’d be walking all the way to the trials, past ramshackle houses with curious faces in the windows and streets lined with spectators.

Just ahead, a woman hung out of a window from an upper story that jutted out over the street. A faded sign swung in the breeze, painted with the blazing fire of the Archon. “Witches!” she screamed. “The Serpent walks among us. The monsters who curse us.”

I’d love to think I wasn’t evil. But the truth was, the Serpent’s shadowy magic still whispered through me, hungering for death. I bared my teeth at her, delighting a little too much at the look of fear in her eyes.

They marched us slowly over the cobbles. I had no idea where the trials would be held, and I didn’t intend to find out. As soon I got the chance, I’d be breaking free.

They hadn’t searched me quite as thoroughly as they should have. I’d arrived at the Purification armed to the teeth because I always was. Maybe they thought someone who could kill with her touch wouldn’t bother with daggers.

Trying to look casual, I glanced over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Lydia. She walked behind the cart following mine. She’d been weeping so hysterically that guilt started churning in my gut.

But what else could I have done, really? Behind my back, I tugged off one of my gloves. Then the other.

At the back of my cart, three more accused walked with me. Penitents, the Order called us. Unlike me, the others had the good fortune of being bound by their wrists only.

I had the distinction of being tied by my neck, since my arms were bound behind my back. I supposed the others weren’t as dangerous, but one of them looked like an ogre of a man. His head was shaved, tattooed all over with the sun symbols of the Order.

He’d been silently glaring at me the entire time.

I strained my arms behind my back, reaching for my hip. From there, I could tug my cloak inch by inch until my hands reached one of the internal pockets. My fingertips brushed the hilt of one of my daggers, and then I was able to draw it out from my pocket.

Flipping the dagger upright, I began to slowly saw at the ropes.

The woman to my left glowered at me, but she wouldn’t be able to see what was going on behind my back, and my face was completely impassive.

The woman looked young, but her hair was so pale, it was almost white. With her pale skin, she looked like a ghost. She wore a stern gray headdress, and when I glanced down at her dress, I noticed how worn and threadbare it was at the knees. A woman who spent her days on her knees could mean one of two things. In her case, I suspected it was piety.

“So.” Her mouth pressed together into a thin line. “You are Serpent-touched.”

“We’re all Serpent-touched,” said the man next to me. He looked about my age, with short hair and bronze-brown skin. “According to the Order, we are all guilty. Isn’t that why we’re all here, tied to the arse of a cart?”

“I’m not Serpent-touched,” said the woman. “I’m Gwyneth Ableworth, a pious servant of the Archon.”

“I’m not touched, either,” snarled the bald man. “And it’s witches like her that got us into this mess. Some of us are innocent, but these Serpent-whores have brought enough evil into this world that we all have to suffer.”

“Serpent-whores,” I muttered. That was a new one to me.

The blonde woman lifted her chin. “The Archon will see to it that I survive these trials. And really, my lord Percival, is it proper to refer to yourself as Serpent-touched? I heard your father, the Viscount de Montfort, give a speech about the problems with modern society. He said Merthyn was changing too quickly. Do you know what they were getting up to in the cities before the Harrowing? Degeneracy. The Pater is restoring things to the way they were. He’s bringing us back to the purity of the holy Tyrenian emperors. I believe in the work of the Order. I am fully confident that the Archon’s light will keep me safe during these trials, as it keeps the Ravens safe.” She shot me another sharp look. “Even you couldn’t kill the Raven Lord. It is because the Archon protects them when they’re faithful enough.”

Percival looked bored with her already. “What did you say your name was? Gwyneth?” He managed to make her name sound like the worst sort of insult. “I wouldn’t count on the Archon saving you.” His hazel eyes slid to me. “You both realize that only one among us survives, right? Shall we place bets on who among us will die first?” He frowned. “Though I suppose we’ll never get the chance to make good on those bets. The dead won’t pay.”

---