Page 4 of Hallowed Games

The Baron frowned. “I’ve raised the drawbridge tonight. I’ll increase night patrols.” He drummed his fingertips on his desk. “We’re all at risk, of course, if the rumors get out.” He flashed me a faint smile. “We don’t need any of us to burn on the pyre, do we?” His smile faded fast. “Me, Lydia, you, or Leo. Dreadful thing when a child is killed. Of course, most of the world wouldn’t mourn a wretched little witch like him.”

My blood turned to ice. “I’ll take care of it, my lord. Lydia’s secret will remain safe.” Even as fear hummed through my bones, I’d mastered a soothing, velvety tone. “There’s no need to imagine the worst.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Just observations. Just facts, my dear.” Another wistful smile. “I know what it’s like to love a child so much you would do anything to keep them safe. Goodnight, Elowen.”

“Goodnight, my lord.” Dread coiled through me as I turned, stalking out of his office.

I almost felt as if the scars under my gloves were igniting with flames again.

I should have taken Leo out of here years ago—as far as possible from the Baron’s influence. But the Baron was a master manipulator, and my secrets were his puppet strings. One little tug, and he had me dancing to his tune. The moment he’d learned of my lethal power, he’d issued a decree among the other barracks soldiers: if the Baron was killed, they were supposed to take Leo’s life. According to the Baron’s will, the soldier who murdered Leo would earn fifty gold coins.

And that was how the Baron ensured that I protected his life with my own.

Leo was all I had in Merthyn.

I tightened my cloak around me as I crossed back to the barracks where Leo would be sleeping right now. A few snowflakes twirled in the air, stinging my cheeks. Fear settled in my stomach. Could I really assassinate people in the Dome of the Archon and make it out of there alive?

I pushed through the barracks door, sneaking past the sleeping soldiers. Their snores echoed off the ceiling.

I climbed the stairs and found Leo sleeping sideways across his bed, his head hanging off one side, feet off the other. My chest grew warm, and I found myself smiling at him. Here, at least, everything was in the right place—the colorful rug I’d scavenged to cover the wood floor, the soft lantern light casting a warm glow over Leo, the shelves of books with bright spines in emerald and blue.

With gloved hands, I shifted him into position and pulled up the covers. He yawned loudly and stretched his hands above his head. “Elowen, what’s your favorite instrument?”

His desire to talk to me always came alive long before his body did. To satisfy his curiosity, I’d needed to identify a favorite of everything: color, tree, cake, mythological monster. He’d even wanted to know my preferred way to die, which was something I hoped to avoid for a while.

Sadly, tomorrow’s mission didn’t bode well on that front.

“Shhhh, love. Go back to sleep. It’s still the middle of the night.”

He’d already gone completely still, snoring quietly. I stared at him. He always looked so beautiful when he slept, his dark hair sticking up in tufts, his face half-mashed in the pillow. He was small for an eight-year-old. Bony, despite all the extra tarts he got by working in the kitchens. I needed to see him grow up strong enough to hit back if anyone messed with him.

I swallowed hard. I always wished I could kiss his forehead when he slept, but that would never happen. Ever.

I knelt at the side of my bed, feeling around in the dark for the bandages I kept there.

I wouldn’t be sleeping again tonight. Before dawn, I’d be lurking outside Rufus’s house, waiting to undertake another deadly mission.

But as much as I loathed the Baron, he was right. One little whisper into the wrong ears could bring us all down.

CHAPTER 3

The late morning sun stained the old Tyrenian road with coral and rose. Wattle and daub houses crowded either side of the snowy lane, bathed in gold light. I’d been following Rufus Wrenbrook on foot for several hours at this point. I had to stay just far enough away that he wouldn’t see me, but not so far that I’d lose sight of him.

As I glanced at the smoke rising from the chimneys, I wished I were still curled up warm in my bed. Instead, I was out here undertaking a stupidly dangerous mission—a Serpent-touched witch marching right into the heart of the Order.

In the March air, my breath clouded around my face. At this point, I didn’t have high hopes for Rufus’s chances of surviving the day. He’d woken up this morning, and then he’d started taking the long, ancient road from Mistwood Shire all the way to Penore. It took four hours to walk the route from the southern coast to the capital city.

And what would a country farmer like Rufus need from Penore? Likely, it was the silver he could earn in one of the Order’s whispering chambers. Two pounds for every name he gave, for every witch he turned in…

The longer I followed him past tidy squares of farmland and sleepy villages, the worse it looked for him. And sadly, the worse it looked for me.

Dread slid over my skin as I walked.

The Order was half witch-hunters, half soldiers. The Dome of the Archon would be heavily protected. The Ravens heard confessions, read from the codices, and hunted witches. They decided who did and did not get into the heavens after death. If they suspected anyone, they reported directly to the Raven Lord. While they weren’t technically soldiers, they were still trained to kill as part of the inquisition.

Then there were the Luminari—the Order’s armored soldiers. Legions of well-organized killers who marched in perfect formation and defeated every enemy they encountered. The Magister Solaris commanded them, a terrifying warrior who probably spent most of his free time torturing people.

And at the very top of the Order’s hierarchy was a man known as the Pater. Our new great leader, the only one who could shepherd us through these dark and sinful times. So they said. He was the man who’d burned a king, silenced the music, and stolen a crown.

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