Page 123 of Beloved Sacrifice

Chapter Twenty

The chamber on the other side was small, though perhaps intimate was a better word. It was dark, and the ceiling above was rounded, as if they stood inside a half dome or a cave. The entire chamber—walls, floor, and ceiling, was made of stone. It was lit by small spotlights that cast narrow cones of illumination onto the main features of the room.

Three high-backed wing chairs faced a large metal medallion in the center of the floor, each of them illuminated. In the floor, inset lines of paler stone marked paths leading from three doors, including the one they’d just come through, to the three chairs.

The bronze medallion, nearly two meters across, bore an engraving of the Trinity Masters symbol and motto. Rose was a fairly cynical person—she had reason to be, but the majesty of the room, combined with her tenuous emotional state, meant that the drama of the moment hit her hard. She was struck by what the Trinity Masters was meant to be—a way of protecting their nation. It wasn’t a shadow government, or a criminal organization, both of which she’d likened it to in the past.

The Trinity Masters was a living library. A place where knowledge and intellect was sheltered. Where artists and inventors were protected and nurtured.

Rose clutched Weston’s hand a little tighter. “Can you see okay?” she whispered.

“Not really.”

“Hold on to me.”

“I’m never letting go.”

She smiled in the dark, then stared forward, guiding him to the first chair. The three chairs faced the medallion in the floor, forming a semicircle.

Together, she and Weston stood in front of the first chair. The center one was empty.

And a man in a black robe, hood up, sat in the last chair.

“There’s someone else here,” she whispered to Weston.

“That I can see.” He looked around and the tension in his shoulders eased somewhat. “This is not going the way I expected.”

“Let’s be stupid and pretend everything is going to work out.” Rose reached up and pulled his hood up, so it shadowed his face. She saw the flash of white teeth as he smiled.

“Hope?”

“Hope.”

“Please take your seats.” The voice, male, came from the darkness on the other side of the medallion. There was a faint accent to it. Franco.

Rose headed for the center seat, but Weston stopped her. “I’ll go. If…if we’re wrong and this goes to shit, promise me you’ll run.”

“No. I’ll stay with you.”

“Tabby will want—”

“Don’t. Don’t do what they did. Don’t use her to control me.”

He leaned in and kissed her head. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re in this together, Wes.”

He slipped his hand into her hood to touch her cheek, then was gone.

Weston took the center seat, and Rose sat down in the first chair. She sat on the edge, feet staggered and weight forward so she’d be ready to jump up at any moment.

A figure stepped into the light. He was short, and wore a black robe trimmed in gold. A heavy chain was dropped over the shoulders, looping across his chest. Her chest. This had to be Juliette, but upon seeing the Grand Master in full robe and ceremonial dress, Rose had instinctively used the male pronouns.

Fucking patriarchy.

“Weston Anderson,” the Grand Master said. “You are a legacy to the Trinity Masters, but not a member.”

Weston looked forbidding in the dark robe, the hood hiding his face. All she could see were his hands and boots. His hands were curled over the arms of the chair, and they’d gripped tighter as the Grand Master spoke to him.

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