Page 87 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

She spares me a look. “Yes, Fatima. You. And if asked who escorted her here, the answer is Shadow Dain. I am still at the rift. This is very important. Do you understand?”

She blinks. “Yes, Master Shadow.”

“And when you deliver Master Scribe, make to leave, but do not. Find a corner and stay within it. Their attention will be on her, not you. Whatever you do, do not leave.”

“But … yes, Master Shadow.”

“And Fatima? Whatever Caster Agatha reveals of herself in that room, know that she works for the good of Mordain.” Solange turns her attention to me. “I will find my way inside.”

“How?”

“Quickly, given your loose lips will foil this scheme within thirty seconds. Now go.” With that, she splits off down a narrow hall, and we continue around the next bend.

Ahead, two Shadows stand guard outside grand doors.

Fatima’s breathing is shaky. She’s nervous.

“Don’t worry. You’re not the one they want to burn at the stake.” How in the hell Solange thinks this girl is going to protect me, I would really like to know.

With a deep inhale, she approaches the two guards. “I am here to deliver Master Scribe Agatha, as ordered by the Prime.” It’s barely audible.

This does not bode well for me.

But it’s too late now. The guards open the double doors without a word, leading me in.

And suddenly I’m standing in a room of tall pillars and guild casters around a table, each wearing an expression that says they believe Agatha deserves to die. I’m sure all would be even more willing to kill the key caster hiding beneath this mask.

Every seat but two are filled. Solange’s and Agatha’s, if I had to guess. Which one is Allegra?

The caster at the head of the table stands, her eyes locked on me. I don’t know anyone within this room, but I know this is Lorel before she opens her mouth.

“Shadow, send for the others at the helm of this treachery,” the Prime barks.

There’s a pause—the poor girl is struggling between conflicting orders from her Shadow Master and the Prime—and then a weak, “Yes, Prime.”

I can’t resist checking the dark corners as the heavy doors shut behind Fatima, but Solange is nowhere to be seen.

I am utterly alone.

With that order delivered, the Prime shifts her fierce gaze to me again. “Caster Agatha, your travel across Ybaris was swift.”

My affinities call to me, begging me to latch on, but I fight the urge. Solange was right. If I strike the Prime down now, I’ll likely have to keep going around this table of accusatory faces, slaughtering each one.

I offer a stiff dip of my head, as I recall Agatha doing. “As swift as you demanded, Prime. It seems your Shadows weren’t too concerned about comfort for my old bones.”

“And you weren’t too concerned about those old bones when you left Mordain. Imagine my surprise when I beckoned the Master Scribe to my study, seeking an update on my important request, and Caster Zaleria arrived.”

“I left her in charge. She is a more than suitable replacement.”

“I appoint the Masters!” Her voice is borderline shrill. She gestures to the empty seat on the far end of the table. “As you can see, I have not appointed a new Master Scribe. It has been quite the task, rooting out all those with their hands soiled in your schemes to betray our realm in the name of Islor and Princess Romeria.”

“Don’t you mean Queen Romeria?”

“Come forward, Agatha,” she seethes. “Face all those you betrayed in the light.”

I ease around the table. I should have asked for descriptions of everyone so I’d know who was who. But I wasn’t supposed to be confronting all of them together.

“How do you like the changes I’ve made so far?” The Prime waves a hand at the lanky, stern-faced man beside her. “My new Second.”

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