Page 32 of Unlikely Omega

“No, no,” Priestess Arleth says, stepping forward, lifting her staff. “He didn’t know. You cannot punish him for being ignorant of her true nature.”

She loves him, I think dazedly. Priestess Arleth loves Finnen and she threw me to the wolves hoping to save him, only now she’s realizing it won’t be that simple. That she might have messed up and brought on his downfall along with mine.

Which shouldn’t be funny.

It’s not.

I’m just so damn shaky.

Finnen stumbles against me and I use my tied hands to steady him. His face is bruised, I see from up close. Looks like they took their anger out on him, and I hate how my chest tightens at the thought.

Maybe he didn’t forget about me, my mind supplies through the confusion. Maybe when he said he’d find a way to get me out he meant it but never got the chance.

And I’m glad, even though it looks like we’ve both now landed in hot water, a boiling lake with no shore in sight.

“Both of the accused will be taken to the Summer Capital to be executed,” the Prelate says, and a soughing goes through the crowd. I wonder if they’re disappointed we won’t burn at the stake right here, right now. “To set an example to our enemies, dispel the dark currents stirring in our world. We’re doing the right thing.”

I’m sure he wants to believe that, I think as Finnen growls deep in his throat, as his scent suffocates my senses even in the midst of this mindless terror that’s gripping me, and then I wonder if the Prelate is right, after all.

Right about the danger I pose.

I’ve already taken one man down with me and I’m only getting started.

10

FINNEN

I picked a fight with High Priest Elegos.

Over his acolyte.

I’ve lost my fucking marbles. One doesn’t challenge his superiors in the Temple or anywhere, not over a slip of a girl who doesn’t seem to appreciate having me on her side.

For whatever reasons my mind had for choosing her to fight over, expose myself to scrutiny and prejudice, reminding them that I’d make a damn good scapegoat, too.

And yet I still can’t fucking believe it that I’m on the end of a rope—tied around my neck, while another length ties my hands behind my back—and I’m being led to the dungeons together with Ariadne. Her scent is a different kind of leash, her sweetness keeping me grounded, reminding me what I fought for.

Foolish as it might have been.

I couldn’t let her die.

Now we both will.

My rage won’t abate. It fills me up, sloshes around inside of me, burning me from the inside out. I was supposed to help her, protect her, and instead I’ve fallen into the same nets she has been trapped in, and failed us both.

I jerk against the rope tugging on me, my feet scraping over uneven flagstones and bumping into furniture. I barely feel it.

We’re led into the dank stench of rot I remember from visiting her last night, and then I’m shoved into a space, a metal door clanking shut behind me.

As soon as the steps fade away and the noises cease, I heave myself to my feet, off-balance with my hands tied behind me. I turn in a small circle, trying to gauge the size of my cell, trying to feel any air currents telling me which way is which. In darkness, not all is the same.

“Ari!” My voice comes out hoarse when I call out her name, and it bounces against stone walls. “Are you okay? Where are you? Ari!”

“I’m here,” she says, surprisingly close and I stumble in that direction, hitting a wall with my shoulder. I drop to my knees, shuffle along the wall until I hit metal bars.

“Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. You?”

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