Page 21 of Forged in Flame and Shadow

I surge forward, driving him back into the wall, a fresh wave of rage running through me.

“She stands there bleeding, and all you can worry about is thebooks?” Now that my face is inches from his, the mage actually takes me in, and his face pales.

“Y-your Highness…”

“Myquestion would be who let a maniac into the Lyceum?” I thrust my hand toward the body. “Who has been so careless with the security of this place when you’re all on strict instructions to keep the princess’s presence here an absolute, locked-down, no-exceptionssecret?”

“Apologies, Your Highness, but would you mind unhanding Mage Abthorn?”

I look up to see Proctor Gallis in the doorway. Her expression is neutral, but her eyes sparkle with a calm authority that reminds me of my mother. I look down to realize my hand is bunched in the front of Abthorn’s robes, and he’s shaking.

“If you insist,” I say, dropping my grip on the fae and straightening. “But I want answers, Gallis. She was supposed to be safe here.”

She steps smoothly over to the body, examining it.

“I have no idea why this fae would wish to attack Her Highness,” she says. “He was a legitimate visitor here—a scholar looking to do some research into our artifact collections. He’s even published some literature on the subject of divine relics.”

“He said something before he died,” Ana says. Her voice is less shaky than it was earlier, and I’m relieved to hear some of the strength returning. “Something religious. ‘The fall of the faithless transforms us?’”

The words don’t mean much to me, but Damia kicks one of the fallen books, making Mage Abthorn wince.

“Shit,” Damia curses.

“What is it?” Alastor asks.

“It’s a Morelium phrase,” she says darkly.

Understanding floods through me, but I can see Ana is still in the dark.

“It’s an extreme religious sect here in Filusia, tied to the god Ethira,” I explain.

Ana frowns. “But I thought none of the fae worshipped Ethira? He wasn’t even that popular in Trova until the Temple came along, just a minor god among many.”

“When Ethiran theology was taking root in Trova, before the war, there were some in Filusia who were drawn to their teachings too,” Proctor Gallis says. “A mortal who became a god is a seductive idea.”

“And once you buy in, you view anyone who doesn’t believe as damned,” Damia says bitterly. “That’s what he meant bythe faithless,” she says to Ana. “The Morelium believe that weakening nonbelievers will bring them closer to divinity.”

“Do you recognize him, Damia?” I know she’d likely have mentioned it before now, but I want to make sure.

She bends to look closer at the dead fae’s face.

“No,” she says. “Thank the gods.”

Ana is visibly curious about why I thought Damia might know him, but she doesn’t press the point, asking another question instead.

“So they still have Ethiran beliefs, even though the Temple condemns Filusia and the fae?”

“They think they’re special,” Damia spits. “That all the foul stuff the Temple spews about our kind doesn’t apply to them.”

“What I’m more concerned about right now is how they knew she was here,” I say to my soldiers. “Alastor, get to work finding out who might’ve leaked the news of our presence here. Proctor Gallis?—”

“I will have my mages shore up our existing security and add an extra layer of protection magic for good measure,” she says calmly.

I nod my thanks. Looking at Ana, still bleeding from her cuts, something in me breaks. It could’ve so easily been over. I could’ve lost her, with so much still broken between us. So much unsaid.

“And you are coming with me,” I say. Before she can offer a word of protest, I lift her into my arms and carry her out of the room.

It’s time she gets some answers, especially as I’m not about to let her out of my sight again anytime soon.

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