Page 68 of Sanctifier

“Drink your wine,” Gwyneth urged. “We’ll sort this out.”

“And remember,” said Archie, blowing on his steaming mug, “their god is on our side.”

Grudgingly, Ru sipped her spiced wine. She knew her friends’ hearts were in the right place, but they hadn’t spoken one-on-one with Regent Sigrun. They hadn’t seen the vast sadness in Lord D’Luc’s eyes, hadn’t been on the receiving end of Lady Bellenet’s powers. They were not the ones whose hands would deliver the killing blow.

Cardamom and cinnamon-spiced warmth slowly filled Ru, and at last, some measure of calm returned to her. “Listen,” she said, steering her friends away from the statue and anyone who might overhear, “Taryel and I read a book last night.”

Archie and Gwyneth shared a look.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Archie asked, arching a brow.

“Arch,” Ru spluttered. “An actual book. A courtier at the ball gave it to me, the only one of its kind.Gods & Glories.”

“Sounds intriguing,” said Gwyneth, leaning closer. “And?”

Ru told them everything she and Taryel had learned last night and caught them up on her tea with Lady Bellenet. She told them how Lady Bellenet had explained her powers, that they erased emotions, turned people into Children. She left out the part about Lady Bellenet using her power on Ru — she knew it would disturb them, and she didn’t have the heart or energy to reassure them that she was fine.

“Talk about bringing down the mood,” Archie muttered, sipping his wine with a deep frown.

“Arch, really,” Gwyneth said, shooting him a withering glance. “As if the mood was anything but horrible.” She turned to Ru. “We know what we have to do now, don’t we?”

“Don’t tell me,” said Archie. “Sneak into Prayer?”

Gwyneth beamed. “Exactly.”

“No,” said Ru, shaking her head. “Absolutely not. If anyone goes, it’s me, alone.”

“Why?” Gwyneth demanded.

Before Ru could answer, a tall figure across the courtyard caught her eye, and all other thoughts fled. Taryel drifted through the snowy landscape like a scarecrow, all sharp edges and messy hair and a flowing black cloak.

“Delara,” Archie said, peering at her. Then, following her gaze, he snorted. “Taryel just got here, and you’ve already forgotten about us.”

“Leave her alone,” Gwyneth said.

“Go away, Arch,” Ru said at the same time.

Then, as if Taryel felt Ru’s presence, his gaze snapped to hers. A group of courtiers came up to him, teary-eyed and curtseying, but his attention was on Ru alone.

She clutched her mug of wine, wishing he would come speak to her, yet hoping he wouldn’t. It was easier like this — him at a distance, fulfilling his duties, placating the courtiers while she sought the comfort of her friends.

But they didn’t feel much like comfort anymore. They reminded her of the danger they were in, every second of the day.

Simon appeared suddenly from around a frosted hedgerow, strumming his lute. Fur adorned his collar and cuffs, and a decadent furry hat perched at a jaunty angle on his head. “Good evening, fair academics,” he said, still playing as he spoke. “Looking a bit glum, aren’t we?”

“How could we possibly be glum,” Ru said, “with a towering ice statue of Taryel looming over us at all times?”

“How amusing you are when plagued by existential fear,” Simon said, winking at his sister. “Did you see the life-sized chess set? Also, funnily enough, carved from ice.”

“What on earth for?” Archie asked, peering around in search of it.

“It’s over there,” Simon said, waving a hand vaguely toward the other end of the courtyard. “A veritable work of art. Will be remembered for ages. Practically beyond words.”

“What are the black pieces made of, then?” Gwyneth asked. “Stone?”

“They’d be too heavy,” Archie mused. “Wood, maybe.”

“I’ve a novel idea,” said Simon, “why don’t you go and look?”

---