Page 18 of Sanctifier

Ru watched the preparations from her bedroom window. She was fully dressed and packed but reluctant to make any further moves. What felt like a pile of rocks sat heavy in her gut. Nothing good awaited her in Mirith.

Someone knocked on her door. She could tell from the two heavy thumps in quick succession that it was Lyr. It was time to go. She slung her pack over her shoulder and opened the door.

“Morning,” said Lyr. There were heavy shadows under his eyes, a weariness about him that she hadn’t seen before.

“Is something wrong?” Ru asked, walking alongside him as they made their way downstairs. “Other than the fact that I’m about to be carted to the palace in a convoy like some prisoner of war.”

Lyr shook his head slightly, not rising to the joke. “You’re not traveling alone.”

She frowned, glancing up at the King's Guard. “I would think not. Lord D’Luc and the Children…”

He shook his head again, more aggressively. “You’ll see.”

With deepening unease, Ru remained close to Lyr until they were outside in the clear dawn. A thin frost coated the courtyard, limning everything in a hazy glow. Ru usually loved winter at the Tower. It often snowed, and she loved to go out in the early morning before the powder was marred, before it had begun to melt. When it was just her and the muffled crunch of white under her boots. She savored the comfort of dashing back inside and sipping a hot drink by the fire while her boots dried.

There was something deeply comforting about the Tower when the nights were long and the fires were all lit. Some of her favorite memories were quiet moments, winter evenings, hot meals, and courtyards raucous with academics all bundled in their scarves and mittens.

She wondered if she would ever live one of those moments again, or if they would remain forever like that — as memories.

White robes and inexpressive eyes rushed past her in a blur as Children passed, carrying boxes and trunks to the carriages. Lord D’Luc stood at the first carriage, conversing with Inda and Ranto. The Children were as nondescript and grayscale as Lord D’Luc was vibrant and bright.

“Ah, very good,” the lord said, seeing Ru approach. “You’re both just in time.”

Lyr grunted.

“What do you mean, both?” Ru asked.

Lord D’Luc raised an elegant eyebrow. “Didn’t he say? Lyrren Briar will be accompanying us on the journey. Wouldn’t want you wandering off and getting lost, now, would we?”

Ru should have guessed that Lord D’Luc wouldn’t let her leave the Tower without his spy in tow. She bit back a smile. She had thought she would be spending the journey alone with Lord D’Luc and the Children, a torture in itself.

While Ru tried not to seem relieved by Lyr’s accompaniment, Lord D’Luc turned to greet someone who had just come out of the Tower. “Ah,” he said, eyes shining.

Ru knew that look. A serpentine, self-satisfied expression. She spun, heart in her throat. Archie and Gwyneth were coming down the steps toward them, packs slung over their backs. They were dressed for travel. Gwyneth’s face was white as snow, her trepidation palpable. Archie, on the other hand, looked as if he was on his way to a particularly fascinating dig site.

“Good morning, Tenoria. Hill.” Lord D’Luc ushered Gwyneth and Archie over to where Ru stood, still frozen to the spot. “Delara,” he said as if he were bestowing a great gift upon her, “I’ve arranged for your friends to accompany you to Mirith. Won’t that bedelightful.”

Ru ought to have felt relief at the sight of her friends. Happiness in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be alone, that her journey to the palace, her time there, would not be in complete isolation. But all she felt was sick.

“I imagine Delara will find herself far more productive,” the lord said, emphasizing the last word with a curl of his lip, “if her peers are nearby to keep her accountable. Wouldn’t you say, Inda?”

Inda, dead-eyed and pale, watched the group with the usual lack of expression. “She must be kept accountable,” she intoned.

Ru wanted to take her friends and run, to dash into the woods and hide, never to be found again. They had packs, they had clothes. They could hunt out there in the wilds, live off the land. After all, Fen had.

But it was a false hope. One day in the wilderness, especially with winter on the way, would find them dead or dying, and she knew it. Lord D’Luc knew it. And he also knew, perhaps more than anyone, that there was only one thing in the world that he could use to keep Ru in line, to do exactly as she asked, no matter how it might break Ru.

Gwyneth and Archie were not here as companions or as colleagues. They were hostages.

Ru,Gwyneth, and Archie were allowed to ride in a carriage together, though not entirely free from the watching eyes of the Children, who rode alongside and would intermittently peer into the carriage with staring gazes. Lyr rode on horseback, the glint of his armor and jangle of his horse’s reins drifting in through the window, and Ru was glad of his presence. Lord D’Luc rode on a white horse ahead of the procession with Inda, Ranto, and Nell trailing behind on their own horses, while two more carriages laden with luggage and supplies took up the rear.

The frost had begun to melt slowly as the morning wore on, and muted sunlight glanced off the landscape as if it were made of glass.

“Isn’t this an amusing jaunt,” Archie said, breaking the carriage’s uneasy silence not long into the journey. “Just what we all needed, a holiday to the court of Navenie.”

“It’s not funny,” Gwyneth said. She was curved inward on herself as if for protection, her brown eyes even larger than usual, her features wan.

“Was I laughing?” Archie said.

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