Page 18 of Of Nine So Bold

The Order of Berinlian. Byron drew those for me once in a melancholy moment on a holy day for the scholars—not that anyone but he had been left to celebrate it. For a long time, he’d thought the entire Order had been destroyed, and even all these years later we’d only ever met one other monk still living after the fall of Erenelle. Dathan, my friend’s mentor, had survived because of a magical gateway that carried him all the way to theremnants of the Jeweled Coven hiding in the mountains of the Wild Lands.

But while Dathan had helped us and Byron had been my friend for years, I wasn’t so naïve as to imagine that meantallmonks of the Order could be trusted.

I hoped he was a better option than dismemberment by Norbert the Bully, though.

“Fuck off, Ignatius,” Norbert growled.

The older giant ignored the insult. “Why would the Aneirans throw this human in here except to have us kill him on their behalf? If we play into their hands, what will they do? Punish us for the murder? Use it as an excuse to send more of us into the unstable western tunnels to be crushed?”

My eyes darted across the other giants, praying they thought this was a good argument for keeping me alive and un-dismembered. But while looks of discomfort passed among some, others just stared at me like they weren’t sure they cared about Aneiran retribution anymore. Still others justwatchedme, their stone-like faces so unreadable, they could have been statues.

I shivered as one rose from beside the fire where Norbert had been. He was even bigger than Norbert. Even more built like a mountain that gave up halfway to becoming a man. His hair was the color of sand, tangled and gnarled like the rest, and his eyes were like ice chips that might stab me through.

The scholar, Ignatius, took the silence as an opportunity to keep speaking. “The Aneirans seekanyopportunity to break our spirit. You know this. And yet they hand us this human like a boon?” The old man shook his head with a chiding expression. “It cannot be that simple.”

“The old man’s got a point,” commented the sandy-haired giant mildly.

I swallowed hard, faint hope rising that maybesomeonearound that fire didn’t want me dead after all.

Norbert made a rude noise. “Oh, fuck off, Brock,” he spat at the sandy-haired man. “Who cares if it’s what those bastards want? I say we take advantage of every opening we get and kill as many as we can!”

Scattered rumbles of agreement rose. Brock’s brow rose and fell like the insult mattered even less than whether I died. Sneering, Norbert gestured sharply and sent his henchmen toward me again.

I struggled to make my legs wake up and support me. If I was going to die, I’d do it on my feet like Dex would have wanted.

And I’d damn well make my treluria proud.

“Hold.”

As tense as the moment had been, it had nothing on the way the air changed around me now. Everyone in the cavern paused. Even Norbert pulled up short, though his teeth flashed in an angry grimace like an attack dog jerked to a stop by a leash.

People turned. Others drew back, clearing a path to the fire where Norbert and Brock had been sitting. Across the faces of Norbert’s henchmen, I saw flashes of fear, while Brock stood motionless with an expression so flat and unreadable, he might as well have been part of the wall.

Oh, this couldn’t be good.

By the largest fire in the room, a giant sat with his back leaning casually against the cave wall. His arms were crossed like he was lounging in a tavern, not trapped in a cage with hundreds of other Erenlians. While his clothes were faded, they didn’t appear as worn or haggard as the people’s around him, and the richness of the fabric was more than clear. He had a long, dark beard tied with a thong of tooled leather and brass, keeping it under control rather than wild like so many of the others around me, and his dark hair was lashed back as well. Hisskin was the color of pale marble, and there was a fullness to his face that was lacking in everyone else’s—his cheeks were less gaunt, his eyes less sunken. He ate well, I suspected, compared to everyone else here. He was older than Norbert or Brock, but younger than Ignatius. Even the few wrinkles around his eyes seemed like they were afraid of being noticed.

My mind raced, reevaluating the power dynamics quickly. Norbert wasn’t in charge here, no matter how he acted. Neither was Ignatius nor Brock.

This man ruled them all.

Frustration flashed over Norbert’s face, but it never came close to insubordination. When he glanced back, everything in his bearing made clear he was waiting on the other man’s command before opening his mouth again.

“Let the human live,” the man said. “For now. He may have information that proves useful. Ignatius, check him over. Make sure he’s not diseased.”

Small gasps and shuffling sounds rose, and anyone near me pulled back in fear I might be carrying some contagion.

Ignatius bowed his head, the subservient motion impeccable and yet somehow artificial at the same time, like the textbook definition of how to execute a bow rather than a natural action. The scholar came toward me.

I didn’t move, save for how my eyes darted between the monk and the other giants. The scholar didn’t seem towantto obey the man by the fire. But Ignatius wasn’t challenging him either.

Who was that guy? He obviously had power, and his rich clothes fit him well, so he probably hadn’t taken them from someone else. Maybe he was someone who’d been powerful in Erenlian society. A royal, even. Except Dathan said they were all dead.

Maybe he’d been wrong.

I scooted back again as Ignatius came closer. I’d never really understood how Erenlian society functioned, beyond what I read in books and what the healer who raised me had described. Some of the royals had been kind, Marnira had said. Power didn’talwayscorrupt—and I only had to look at Gwyneira to know that was true. But some royals could be petty and foolish, caring more for their position than their people.

I’d never understood whythoseones were able to remain in power when it was clear they weren’t there to help others.

---