Page 18 of The Storm of the Empire

I stumbled back, gasping for breath, my entire arm shooting pain while half-numb at the same time. As soon as I could get my fingers to close again, I awkwardly dragged him back into the storage room and stripped him of the robe. I dug through bins until I found enough cloth to tie him up and gag him. Once he was secure, I donned the robes, figuring out all the ties before stopping to take a breath.

I stashed him behind the barrels so he wasn’t found for a while. I didn’t need to raise the alert. The longer he went without being found, the longer I’d have to infiltrate the order. I knew enough about them from the deliveries we did, so I was pretty sure I could pass at least long enough to find out what I needed.

Or so I told myself as I slipped out of the room.

I kept my head down, venturing further down the hallway. I checked rooms, ready to apologize for the intrusion and make something up about being in the wrong place, but thankfully, this part of the temple was deserted. The other priests were probably preparing for the Lighting the Candles ceremony, after which they were done with duties until the midnight bell. It was their only down time, so I wouldn’t have to answer what duties I should be doing. The priests I’d known spent the time drinking and eating.

The Lighting of the Candles came and went, and more priests filtered through the passageways, but none of them paid me any mind. I slipped through a gated area with a group of them, finding myself in an underground tunnel that seemed to be a departure from the stores the priests used. I broke off from the group at a fork in the tunnels and was soon swallowed by the blackness again. I didn’t choose a path, I let the path choose for me, letting intuition lead every turn. I picked up a lamp from a store of them and wound deeper into the tunnel system.

I could get lost in here. I could die. But it didn’t stop me. My lack of purpose drove me forward. I couldn’t return to Nyx empty-handed to toil around mindlessly in the palace for another year or more. Maybe it was time to move on. Zaria would mourn me, but I’d send her ravens and come to see her from time to time.

Her life was meant to belong to the First Kingdom now, but maybe mine was meant for other places.

I came to a quiet bustle of movement and froze, but something told me to step into the light. I lifted my lamp higher and bowed my head.

“May the Goddess Kalilah bless you,” I murmured to the priests I’d stumbled on.

“Brother,” one greeted me and lingered in a questioning manner.

I opened my mouth, willing any words to come to mind, and after a slight hesitation, they did: “I’ve been sent to aid in your most holy endeavor.”

“We can always use extra hands. Please.” He gestured to one of the crates they were moving into the back of a cart.

I set the lamp aside and picked one up. It was lighter than I expected. What else could they be moving? I didn’t question it. I went with the flow, hoping something would enlighten me as to why the priests were moving Dragon’s Bane and whatever else this was. They’d never revealed their purpose when they came to buy our crops, and it wasn’t my place to ask, but I knew the symbols branded on the consignments back then and these bore the same. There had to be some connection.

But these crates weren’t bane. Bane was dried down and condensed, then packed into large glass jars for transportation so it couldn’t be scented. Crates of it were much heavier.I knew from experience.

After our commune was burned, I couldn’t stay with the fae who survived. I’d been a prisoner of sorts my whole life and knew it was perhaps my only chance to free myself into a life where I made my own decisions.

So, I took an opportunity to help make a drop of the herb we’d managed to save from the fire, then offered my services to the fae buying the herb to continue on with them in exchange for labor. I’d managed to survive by going with my gut and working my way into their network of underground trade.

I’d been in over my head, and I’d known it. But I would have done whatever it took to stay alive until I could find a way out of it and be free.

I still would. Including disguising myself as a priest and entangling myself with whatever this was. I had a bad feeling about it. Why would they be moving crates in secret tunnels? Nothing good came from such clandestine endeavors—I knew that from experience. I didn’t like it.

I wanted to believe differently about the priests. Was I reading too much into things? But how could I be when I was seeing proof they were connected with whoever was moving Bane? Did they have a corrupt sect? Or maybe the traders we grew bane for were not priests, only using their identity as a cover. That had to be it.

I finished loading the cart, and when the work was done, instead of slipping back into the shadows, something made me wordlessly take a seat with the others.

Not one question was asked. I sat in the back with another young priest. He steepled his fingers and closed his eyes. I mirrored his action and assumed the same pose.

It was an hour before we were out of the city, but when we were well past the guard posts and the busy lanes, there was a flicker in my periphery. The other priest sat back, and I mirrored him. He stretched out and gave me a hearty smile.

“You’re new.”

“Yes. I used to work in the Desert Kingdom, but I’ve recently moved to the First Kingdom.”

“A high honor.”

“Praise be the Goddess.” Thankfully, my childhood served as perfect preparation for my facade. I could have gone into the priesthood when I left the compound, but I was drawn to interests of a more carnal nature. But the ease with which I was able to slip back into my former self gave me pause. Was this what I was meant to be doing? Was this journey I was being pulled on a calling from the Goddess?

I shook off the thought.

The priest across from me pulled out a little book and sat back to read. Since I had no such prop to fake, I studied our route. We were on a road leading towards the Middle Sea. It wasn’t busy at this hour despite usually being well traveled. It was not far to the port, but after half an hour, we turned off the main road, shocking me. The Middle Sea was the most direct transport route between the kingdoms. It was used for nearly all commerce and trade.

Resigned to not knowing where the journey would lead, I settled in, along for the ride but itching to find out what was in the crates. I didn’t dare snoop with the other guardian here. We followed the winding road north, hugging the shoreline, until it was nearly dark, and I could see Damona Island in the distance.

We came upon a long-abandoned port. It was clear no trade had passed through in decades, but there was a ship anchored out in the bay, hidden among the cliffs. When the cart pulled up, I noticed movement. Two priests waited in a rowboat beached up on the sand, but they made no move to get out and help us unload. The priests from the cart didn’t seem surprised by this, so we loaded the crates around them, stacking the small boat to capacity.

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