Page 45 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
I don’t, of course, mention the other task I completed on my travels. The time had come for my nephew Olin and my sister Ettia to leave Xatus. I couldn’t trust they’d be safe there. Instead, I moved them to a small village in the northeast, one the Temple is unlikely to visit. I hope they will be better hidden there, though every day I wake in fear, worrying about their fate.
His Grace cradles the scythe, soothed by its presence. Its power would be obvious to anyone, fizzing like static in the air. My fear is stoked higher still, seeing it in the Grand Bearer’s hands.
I have seen Olin conjure celestial magic as easily as breathing, and I have seen the Grand Bearer revitalized and strengthened when he lays hands on a solari. What do those two things mean when put together? I dare not say, but I know I want Olin to live, and a world where His Grace extends his reach won’t allow for that.
I don’t know if I did the right thing hinting at his plans to Morgana Angevire or opening the door for the fae prince to rescue her. Only time and the gods will tell—and they must reward or punish me as they see fit.
His Grace at last looks up from the scythe, his face once more a picture of calm authority.
“The loss of the Angevire girl is unfortunate,” he says. “But we will find a way, Sophos. Whether she is our prisoner or not, the gods will give us what we need.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” I say as another piece of me fades away.
Chapter 15
Corrin
I’ve dined at the tables of Hallowbane’s liveliest dancing halls. Raised a glass in the smoke-filled dens of its best pleasure houses. But I can confidently say I’ve never stayed somewhere likethis.
People don’t carouse into the early hours here. You’re not kept awake by the moans of customers rutting their guts out in the next room. The Crossed Key has its secrets, but they’re not the kind of people who pay me fat bags of coin to keep quiet from their wives and bosses.
This inn is positivelycozy.
I don’t know what to make of it. But I note Warren seems quite at home as we sit in my room and he delivers the latest news from Hallowbane.
“Constantine says the Temple seems mostly done proving their point,” Warren says, decoding the letter he picked up at a mail house a few towns away. “The clerics are slowly leaving. The cleavers are already all gone, but they left Vestil Street and the gambling den in ruins.”
“That’s hardly news,” I say. “I saw the place go up in flames.”
I massage my fingers, remembering the bite of the incendi fire even though my burns are finally healed, thanks to the landlady here, Heda. The woman’s a mystical force—capable of running a full boarding house, sheltering a rebel movement,andcooking up miracle balms in her spare time.I’m already working on my strategy to recruit her to one of my businesses when the time comes.
“Still,” I continue. “The news is better than I expected. Hallowbane may be a smoking husk, but at least it isn’t crawling with the Temple.”
I start to make the calculations in my head, deciding which of my businesses I’ll attend to first, who I’ll need to contact to get things off the ground. Chalke will have suffered losses too. I hate the man, but maybe he’ll agree to a truce for a while. Together, we could rebuild, but he’ll probably want us to look at southside first?—
There’s a knock at the door which Warren answers. “It’s Mr. Sandale, sir,” he says.
I sigh. “Alright, let him in.”
The rebel leader strides in like he owns the place, casting a nosy eye around my room. I glance at Warren, and he scoops up the papers lying on the table in front of me, including Constantine’s letter.
“Your presence is required in the caves,” Harman says. “We’re meeting there in half an hour.”
I stretch in my chair, unbothered. “Exciting as that sounds, I won’t be attending. I’m due to return to Hallowbane, you see. So sorry to miss it.”
Harman scoffs, as if he expected exactly such a response from me.
“No, you’ll be going. You promised Morgana you’d be her ally, and that means going where you’re needed.”
“I’mneededin my city,” I reply. “And you’re right, I made a promise toHer Highness. But she’s gone away to Agathyre, and I certainly won’t be taking orders from anyone here.”
Sandale crosses his arms over his chest, the picture of a noble, indignant soldier. It must be quite tiring, being so righteous all the time.
“And Morgana leftmein charge. It’s time to face reality, Wadestaff. Until she’s officially queen, there’s no point in rebuilding your empire just for the Temple to sweep in and destroy it all again when the mood takes them. So you better help her get that crown by attending this meeting about the assassination.”
I don’t think I could face another attack on Hallowbane. Watching my life’s work crumble into dust before me was painful enough the first time. So I relent.
“Fine, I’ll postpone my trip,” I say, rising and trying to ignore Sandale’s smug expression.
