Page 49 of Sanctifier

Gwyneth nodded. “Archie and I will be the wide-eyed academics, dazzled by the pomp and elegance of courtly life. And Ru, you’ll be the Keeper of His Heart, obsessed with Taryel and, by association, Festra.”

“Woo them with your charm,” Archie said, smiling.

“Yes,” said Ru, “I’ll draw from my deep well of charisma. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that might hint at Lady Bellenet’s powers or anything new about Festra. We still know next to nothing about the deity himself.”

“Quite,” said Archie, pouring himself a new cup of tea.

“Don’t write anything down in case they search our rooms,” added Ru.

“You can count on us,” Gwyneth said, her face all soothing lines and soft eyes.

A lump formed in Ru’s throat. She was grateful for her friends, their presence here at the palace, even though it meant they were in constant danger. She wondered if she could have done it alone, or whether she might have eventually lost herself in despair without them here.

“Thank you,” Ru breathed, taking Gwyneth’s hand.

“And you,” Gwyneth said, forcing cheer, “are going to be the best Keeper of His Heart there ever was.”

“I hate everything you just said,” Ru replied, “but I’ll try.”

As she spoke, the image from her dreams, of Fen holding the artifact out to her, rose unbidden.It’s yours.

Archie leaned forward on the sofa, somehow managing not to spill his tea as he caught Ru’s gaze with sharp eyes. “Delara,” he said, “you’ve got to really lean into this role. Use Taryel. Play him like a handsome, oblivious fiddle. Stare lovingly into his ridiculous, stumbled face. And if youmust… even kiss him. I know it might sound horribly disgusting, but it’s necessary.”

Ru scowled deeply. “Thanks, Arch. Your wisdom never fails to awe me.”

Archie folded his lips into themselves, his face taut, clearly suppressing a laugh.

Ru glared. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s alittlefunny,” Archie countered. “You, the love-struck god consort? Doing as you’re told? Comedy gold, if you ask me.”

Gwyneth said nothing, but it was obvious she was also trying not to laugh.

“Ha,” said Ru. “You’re both terrible.” Getting closer to Lady Bellenet and Lord D’Luc was the last thing she wanted to do. Butit was a good plan. And somewhere in the secret, needy part of her, the thought of being closer to Taryel made her heart swell.

“Right,” Ru said, “Let’s play.”

“Shall we shake on it?” Gwyneth asked, thrusting her pink-fingered hands out over the tea things.

The three friends clasped hands, an awkward smash of fingers and fists, and Ru was surprised to find a laugh escaping her. She was trapped at the center of a religious fad, destined to destroy the world. But she wasn’t alone. And destinies could change.

CHAPTER 17

Ru had always thought she was decent enough at courtly manners, at dancing and sipping daintily from crystal glasses. She had been all too wrong, according to Hugon D’Luc.

“Stop hunching your shoulders,” he said for the third time that day. “You’re a member of court, not some unknown merchant’s daughter.”

That’s exactly what I am, thought Ru, throwing back her shoulders yet again and shooting a dark look at Lord D’Luc. He had been berating her all morning, nitpicking her speech, the way she walked, even the way she smiled. Though, she supposed, her smileshadbeen forced.

They were standing on the broad balcony of Count Leon’s private quarters. Back inside, there was music and dance and drink — an exclusive party to honor Ru, though she felt anything but honored under Lord D’Luc’s condescending gaze.

“Imagine what they’ll say about Lady Bellenet,” the lord went on, giving Ru a slow, methodical once-over, “when you prove yourself utterly useless as a courtier, let alone the Keeper they’ve so longed for.”

Ru grit her teeth. “I’m not used to walking around like I have a stick up my ass.” She regretted it as soon as she spoke. Shewas supposed to be playing along, but surely she could get away with a few snide remarks with Hugon D’Luc. He’d likely be more suspicious if she became a pliant little mouse overnight.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning his elbows against the balcony railing. They were several stories above the ground, and a cold wind ruffled his hair. The tip of his nose was tinged with pink, and his eyes shone with amusement. “I must admit,” he said, “I’m pleasantly surprised at the effort you’re putting in, Delara. It’s almost as if you care for once.”

“I care about Taryel,” she said, careful to walk a balance between saying what he wanted to hear and not laying it on too thick. “I care about the artifact and my friends. And if you truly believe that Festra is real, then… well, I’ve suspended disbelief for now. Perhaps it’s time I set aside my rigid dependence on the scientific method.”

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