Page 52 of Sanctifier

CHAPTER 18

Ru had been at the palace for weeks. Lord D’Luc carted her from breakfasts to parties to intimate salons, never once taking her to the artifact. And though Ru tried to ask after Lady Bellenet, to find out what she might be doing, the woman was nowhere to be found.

“You would do well to respect her privacy,” Lord D’Luc said when Ru asked — not for the first time — why Lady Bellenet hadn’t come to speak with her yet, despite her promise at dinner that first night at the palace. “She has many other things to attend to.”

“Such as?” Ru pressed.

The lord shot her a glance. “Persist in your rudeness, Delara, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

“I only want to meet her properly.”

She and Lord D’Luc were on their way to breakfast, and Ru was restless. She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her thoughts to herself with Lord D’Luc, especially since they were becoming darker with every passing day. There were only so many times she could endure Taryel’s arm around her, or Lord D’Luc’s cold demeanor, or the bizarre excitement ofanother aristocrat, all while she feigned smiles and laughter and compliance.

Gwyneth and Archie meanwhile, occasionally attending the same parties as Ru, had seen and heard nothing of use. It was as if the court of Navenie were enveloped in some shimmering curtain, hiding the truth behind its gilded threads. And despite their efforts, none of them could seem to peer behind it.

“You will speak with her,” said Lord D’Luc. “When the time is right.”

“I might be dead by then,” she said, her tone flippant.

He stopped in his tracks, studying her with a piercing gaze. “What do you mean by that?”

Ru started, taken aback by his intensity. Something in his eyes was different, as if a candle had blown out, revealing something wild and frightening in the shadowed dark. “I mean, the solstice is coming. If Lady Bellenet keeps avoiding me, I’ll kill us all in the Cleansing before she gets a chance to properly meet me.” She forced a smile.

Lord D’Luc stared past Ru into the distance, his eyes still horribly tormented. “I see,” he said at last.

Disturbed, Ru was about to ask him what was wrong, when something caught her eye down the hall. It was a procession of Children, walking two by two, with candles in their hands. Ru’s blood ran cold; she had never seen so many Children all together like this, let alone in a procession. There was something deeply primeval about it, an unsettling call back to a time forgotten.

“Where are they going?” she asked, surprised to find that she was genuinely curious.

“To Prayer,” Lord D’Luc said, leading her away from the Children. His eyes were back to their usual cold, clear blue. “To offer their devotion to Festra.”

“Are they really?” Ru asked. She hadn’t imagined that the Children did anything on their own, let alone actually worshiped Festra.

“Yes, really,” said Lord D’Luc, his practiced authority undercut by a glint in his eye. “But you know exactly what it’s like to believe in something that cannot be seen or touched, don’t you, Delara? Festra is as real as you or me.”

“Can we go with them?” Ru asked, almost childlike. Perhaps if Lord D’Luc thought she was truly curious, that she wanted to believe, he would let her attend. Surely she’d learn something useful there, at the altar of Festra.

“Only the truly faithful are permitted to witness the service,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve come around entirely.”

“I’m still questioning,” Ru said, “but maybe if I saw the Prayer, if I understood… I might reach my full potential at the Cleansing.”

Lord D’Luc narrowed his eyes. “How very compliant of you,” he said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how agreeable you’ve been lately. I’m almost worried.”

“I’m not being compliant,” Ru said, keeping her voice light, though her throat constricted with fear at the prospect of being discovered in her game. “I’m remaining open-minded.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow but only shook his head.

When they arrived at Lord D’Luc’s rooms, as breakfast was being laid out by silent Children, Ru felt strangely off-kilter. Perhaps it was just the artifact, its voice so present now. Its absence had become her normality these last months. But now, it regularly yearned to be part of her, restless and loud against her mind. But something in the lord’s countenance as she arranged herself across from him made her think it wasn’t just the artifact affecting her.

As if responding to her thoughts, a spark flared in her chest. Anger, perhaps, or helplessness, lapping at her mind. Shetamped down on it, forcing the artifact into the dark recesses of her consciousness.

Not now, she thought.

Lord D’Luc watched her quietly. She knew she looked exhausted, even with Pearl’s help. She was increasingly tired and afraid, and with every new day came the growing realization that she was trapped here. Lyr’s presence was cold comfort in the face of a palace full of King's Guards, and the looming threat of the solstice.

“Delara,” he said, with a hint of exasperation. “Ask me. Whatever it is you’re biting your tongue for, spit it out.”

She returned the lord’s gaze. She was still sharply aware of his movements, his moods. Just as she’d been at the Tower. But since coming to Mirith, he had not threatened her or pressed his thumbs to her throat. Instead, he had moments of strange emotion, like the flash of fear she’d seen earlier in the corridor. As if she were being shown glimpses of a monster beneath, or maybe even the true Hugon D’Luc. He gave Ru the impression of a caged tiger, fearsome but captive.

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