63. Henry #2
Part of our job is simple: ensure that Rafe is held accountable for his alleged sins against Mountain Haven and subdue him until he stands trial. I have no intention of letting him ever see a trial, but no one here needs to know that.
The more complicated assignment is to neutralize any resistance from the Carrenwell siblings or other magical houses. Thanks to Harlow’s admission last night, I know what all of their blessings are.
Then, all that’s left is to throw our support behind Rochelli when he or she shows.
As soon as I step into the central square, I spot Harlow standing off to the side of the Blood Well stage.
I wasn’t expecting her, or at least I wasn’t expecting her to be waiting there alone.
I suddenly wish I hadn’t killed Gaven. Even though I know she can handle herself, she should never be alone to do it.
Maybe if I hadn’t killed him—maybe if I had just let him tell her that he sensed my blessing from Polm, I wouldn’t be in this mess now.
Harlow’s violet eyes lock on mine through the crowd.
Maybe it’s something about the Divine blessing we’ve received, or maybe it’s just a general awareness of each other’s bodies and the way they move, but I’ve never felt so connected to someone.
She’s wearing another silver shimmering gown beneath a black cloak and a headband that looks like it’s made of silvery stars.
I’d almost forgotten that today she has to play the role of Stellaria one last time.
I cut through the bustling crowd to stand beside her. She doesn’t welcome me, but she doesn’t tell me to leave, so that’s something.
I can’t stop myself from looking at her. Harlow’s dark hair is pulled back from her face. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold and her lips are bright red. She shifts, and the collar of her cloak reveals the faint hint of pink stubble burn on her neck.
Possessive pleasure surges through me. I love seeing her skin marked by passion. It’s only spoiled by the reality that last night will be the last time she lets me do it.
I don’t have time to dwell on it. Rafe ambles up on the other side of the stage. It takes a lot of self-control to not immediately launch myself at him and rip out his throat. Just seeing him sends fury burning through my blood.
Bryce and Carter are already waiting for him. Bryce waves his flask around with an exaggerated drunkenness that I worry might be too much. People in the crowd start to notice the mayor and begin whispering and casting angry glances his way.
Bryce pats Rafe on the shoulder, and the mayor laughs.
This is Bryce’s gift—putting everyone at ease.
He hands the flask to Rafe, and the mayor’s eyebrows shoot up.
No doubt Bryce said something about what an expensive, rare whiskey is in there.
It’s all about the story. I could tell the moment I stepped into the North Hold sitting room and saw the sheer volume of opulence that Rafe is a man who wants things simply because they are rare and expensive.
Whatever Bryce says must be enough—either that or Rafe has noticed the murmurs of the crowd and is nervous. The mayor knocks back a long swig. He takes a moment, then nods in approval before taking two more generous pulls from the flask. That’s all it will take.
He walks onto the stage with confidence. I hope this is the last time he ever feels sure of himself. He catches sight of Harlow and a slow smile spreads over his face.
Harlow steps closer to me. It’s not until I feel the distinct prickle of familiar magic in the air that I realize he’s taunting her.
Polm’s blessings are complicated. When you’re strong, you can usually compel anyone who fears you, and most people fear you when they realize you have a blessing from the Divine of Malice.
Fear is a hook, an entry point to find a way into someone.
But what only those who have this blessing know is that you’re most vulnerable to manipulation attacks with the same magic when you’re using Polm’s blessing.
In order to understand what will manipulate a person, you, yourself, have to be open.
I throw my magic out to him. Instead of gently coaxing my way in like I would normally have to, I stab the power directly into his chest.
A jolt goes through Rafe’s body as I take hold of him. Most people can’t tell who is manipulating them when they’re hit with Polm’s power, but those of us with this blessing can follow the connective lines of it back to the source. I’m not surprised when Rafe’s panicked gaze meets mine.
I step by Harlow and walk up onto the stage.
The crowd’s murmurs crescendo as I walk toward the mayor.
I raise my voice above the din. “Tell them how you let the Drained in to steal those women, just like you compelled them to come for the people of Mountain Haven. You deserve to pay for your sins.” The first part is a lie, but the second is true.
Beyond that, Rafe is a man made of secrets.
Divine know what kind of fucked-up skeletons we’d find in his closet.
Rafe struggles valiantly against my hold, but I’m in too deep and I have too much anger behind me to lose my focus.
“Why?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“You will never touch my wife again.” I nod to the crowd and raise my voice. “Admit it.”
“I let the Drained in,” Rafe shouts. “I thought I was doing the right thing by trading a few lives for the many. I did the same thing ten years ago. The Havenwoods were getting too cozy with the Carrenwells and I wanted to solidify my place in the high houses. I was afraid of my lack of extended family. It was just me and my mother left in our house, and I thought I would be the first one to go when Harrick found a more powerful ally.”
I didn’t tell him to say anything this elaborate. The first part might be a lie, but the second part is definitely true.
The crowd shouts loud condemnation. This betrayal seems almost worse to them than the Carrenwells. At least Harrick never pretended to be kind and friendly toward them, only to feed them to the wolves.
“Keep going. Surely that’s not the end of your sins.”
Rafe is resisting so hard, sweat drips from his brow. Either that or the crushed Stellarium Blossoms we put into the whiskey are hitting him.
“I pretended to be magnanimous by visiting those locked up for resisting the blood tithes so I could stir up the dissent and use Rochelli’s rebellion for my own means,” Rafe says breathlessly.
The angry jeering of the crowd grows even louder.
I want him to keep going, but I don’t want a riot. Worse, Harlow looks deathly pale. I wanted Rafe to admit what he’s done, but now I don’t want her to have to hear him say it.
“Take him away!” someone in the crowd shouts.
I shove Rafe toward Carter and Bryce, who are waiting at the far end of the stage. He stumbles over to them, and they tie his hands behind his back.
I lock eyes with Carter. “You have him?”
I can already feel the pressure of my friend’s magic, and I can tell by the way Rafe’s steps are getting more labored that he’s only a few minutes from losing his ability to walk.
But you can never be too careful with a Polm-blessed prisoner.
That’s why I need to be sure Carter can control him before I release my magic.
“I’ve got him,” Carter says. “We’ll hide him in the secret room at the bar until this is over and we can move him more easily.”
I release my hold on the mayor as they drag him away. I turn back and walk across the stage to join Harlow.
“Are you well?” I ask.
She nods, but she won’t meet my eye. Instead, she takes off her black cloak, hands it to me, and steps up onto the stage. The day is still dark, but the sunstone stage lights hit her shimmering dress as she walks to the center of the platform.
The crowd quiets, looking at her with genuine reverence. I can’t blame them. She looks ethereal and every part the Divine being she’s meant to play.
“I am Stellaria, Divine of the Stars, the bringer of darkness,” Harlow says. Her voice is clear and loud. “I have claimed my love once and I reclaim him now. My Deathless has delivered him back to me. Now I will summon a new dawn.”
Drums play from somewhere at the back of the crowd, then a second beat picks up, and another and another, until the pounding is coming from all eight paths that lead to the Blood Well.
That’s the signal. It’s time.
The drumming grows louder and louder as Harlow lifts her arms, until I can feel it in my chest.
Rafe thought he was going to play this part, but that was just a ruse.
This is the moment. Rochelli is going to reveal himself on stage in front of all of us as Asher, the Divine of Endings. It’s a bit dramatic, but I suppose it’s not a bad representation of the drastic change the city is about to go through.
The crowd is restless, those with rebel ties looking around for any indication of who their new representative might be, and everyone else waiting for the ceremony to end.
Harlow swoops her hands downward, and the sunstones flare around the square, bathing the crowd in light. The people cheer loudly, and Harlow bows and walks down to join me, but as soon as she reaches me, the crowd noise dies.
Footsteps sound on the wooden stairs on the other side of the stage. Rochelli is here.
Whispers pass over the crowd in a wave.
Though I logically know who I’m looking at, it takes me a full minute to comprehend.
Kellan Carrenwell is not on the stage to represent his family. Kellan Carrenwell is Rochelli. He’s the one who has been organizing a rebellion against his own family.
Beside me, Harlow stares at him with the same mix of shock and confusion.
Kellan holds up his hands, and the crowd murmurs die down.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Kellan says. “How could I possibly be Rochelli? Why should you trust me? What if this is all just a grift from the Carrenwells?”
There are whispers of agreement in the crowd.