Chapter 19
Damia
We ride through the slums of Hallowbane, the scrapheap houses and grime-soaked streets slowly giving way to dwellings with proper front doors and roads that look like they might’ve been swept in the last century.
When we pass through a market of pungent foods—smoked meats and raw fish and what might be moonshine being sold out of a barrel—Corrin takes a deep breath and sighs.
“Ah, it’s good to be home,” he says.
I glance around me, taking in the tough-looking vendors and the gaudily dressed men and women who are their customers.
Scrappy children lurk around them. They look like they’re playing, but I catch at least one trying to snatch at the purse of a woman in a red dress.
She bats the boy away with a sharp warning.
I try to see it all through Corrin’s eyes. At least this place isn’t boring. It’s not sterile and oppressive like Qimorna. It’s diverse and complicated and not always pretty, but I suppose I can understand why that might appeal. Especially to someone like Corrin who grew up in it.
I picture him as one of those scrappy children, turning survival into a game, laughing as he fights his way to climb to the top of the heap that is Hallowbane.
You’re spending too much time trying to work him out. It was one night.
The little voice at the back of my head is stern. She doesn’t have time for my musings—she’s too busy scolding me not to repeat what happened in that pub the night before last.
It was fun…very fun. In fact, all of Corrin’s boasts and flirtations were borne out, and then some. I’ve never slept with a human, but in Filusia one hears jokes disparaging their size and stamina. All I can say is when it comes to Corrin, all the jokes are wildly wrong.
But it’s been two days since that happened, and I haven’t brought it up.
Last night, when we stopped at a different inn, I quickly ordered us separate rooms and said good night, and he took the hint.
The strange thing is he doesn’t seem put out by that.
In fact, he’s just as charming and cheerful today as he was yesterday.
Maybe he doesn’t want a repeat of that night?
Maybe he didn’t enjoy himself as much as—
I cut the thought off. It’s too ridiculous to entertain. Not when we spent most of the night wrapped up in each other, with the landlord banging on the door and yelling at us for keeping the other guests awake.
The memories return vividly, making my skin tingle. It was a battle of wills at first, each of us trying to dominate the other. I didn’t mind that; it made things interesting. But when we found our rhythm, it was even better…
That’s not the issue. And get your thoughts out of the gutter.
I grit my teeth at the voice, more intrusive and distracting than Barb whispering in my ear. It’s right, of course. I need to remember the reason why I haven’t touched Corrin since that night. No matter how badly I might have wanted to.
His cause is different from ours. His mission isn’t our mission, and if I can’t expect him to be as committed to helping the captain and the princess as the rest of us, then I can’t fully trust him.
He got where he is in life by putting his own interests first, and he’s not going to change the habit of a lifetime just for me.
I suspect that now we’re back in his domain, he’ll fall right back into his old ways.
Then I’ll feel like a fool for treating that night like anything other than the fling it was.
“Something’s different,” Corrin frowns. We’ve left the slums properly now, and the streets are emptying the further we get into the city.
In any other town, that would be normal enough—the slums would be the most crowded part.
But Hallowbane’s different. It’s the pricier parts of town that are meant to have the most bustle, the most activity, since those are the places where all the money is made.
I remember our last few visits here, where these neighborhoods were alive with people, working girls hanging from balconies and merry makers tripping their way along the avenues.
But now, the streets are eerily quiet. Far too many buildings are boarded up or burned out. Faces peer at us from windows before quickly disappearing again like frightened rabbits.
“Do you think it’s the ruined?” I ask.
Corrin’s hands tighten around his reins, his expression taut with worry. “No. The ruined don’t attack property. Besides, my reports said there’ve been fewer sightings of them lately. They think the Temple’s been purging them.”
As if speaking the Temple’s name summoned them, there’s a flash of red robes at a crossroads up ahead. Corrin indicates we take a detour, and we dismount, moving down a side alley. There, from the protection of Corrin’s shadows, we watch a dozen clerics ride past.
They stop further up the road, exchanging words with each other as they point to a building. One of them dismounts and fixes a piece of parchment to the door before they ride on.
“It’s not the ruined who are the monsters in my city now,” Corrin murmurs, his eyes flashing with anger. I notice the shadows around us starting to creep out of the alleyway, slithering down the road toward the group of clerics.
I grab Corrin’s arm in a weird mirror of us in the sanctuary courtyard two days ago.
“Don’t,” I say. He turns to look at me, our faces the closest they’ve been since he was kissing me in that bedroom.
His fresh citrus smell wafts over me, and I drop my eyes to his mouth, then the spot where I’m touching his arm.
I exhale shakily, unable to stop the thoughts of his lips on mine and those hands dancing across my skin.
It takes all my strength to summon up more words. “Don’t do anything yet. Wait,” I say.
I drop his arm quickly, stepping back like I’ll get burned. Which is exactly what I’m afraid of.
The clerics are riding away now. When they’re out of sight, we slip cautiously from the alleyway, heading toward the building where they posted their notice. Now I can see that it’s a bookshop, but it’s dark inside, and one of the windows is smashed in. The paper on the door reads:
This establishment has been closed under suspicion of crimes of heresy. By order of the high arbiter of Hallowbane, High Inquisitor Meppos.
There’s an address underneath, listing Grove Street as the headquarters of the high arbiter.
“Those fuckers,” Corrin curses, ripping the notice down and stabbing a finger at the address. “That’s my building!”
“Looks like the Temple have made themselves quite at home here,” I say.
He shakes his head. “They told me the cleavers had gone, but they’d left some clerics behind. I never imagined something as bad as this.”
“When was the last time you got a message from one of your people?” I ask.
“Not since before we left for Qimorna,” he says. “It was too difficult to make contact from Filusia. I tried, but none of my contacts there had decent ties to the city since I left it.”
There’s a bitterness to his voice. He regrets leaving, even if it sounds like he barely escaped Hallowbane with his life.
“You can’t blame yourself,” I say. “Guilt is a useless emotion.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “You know, you could do with taking some of your own advice.”
I frown at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” he shakes his head, staring down the street in the direction the clerics went. “We always used to get clerics here,” he says absently. “They were a big part of our business. But they came here to escape the Temple, not to bring it to our doors.”
I look at him, unimpressed. “That’s what always happens when you invite a few rats in. Soon you have an infestation, and you end up getting bitten.”
He meets my gaze, a hint of challenge in his eyes.
“So you think I’m either a fool or a hypocrite,” he says. “Too stupid to realize how dangerous the Temple are, or too mercenary to care.”
“I did think that,” I say honestly. Now I’ve seen how much Hallowbane means to Corrin, I suppose I’m willing to accept there might be a third option—that he was doing what he could with the limited options he had.
If he hadn’t catered to the clerics, the Temple would’ve come down on Hallowbane much sooner.
He smiles, finding that wicked grin somewhere despite all we’ve seen. “That almost sounds like I’m winning you over.”
I ignore his flirtation, taking the scrap of parchment from his hand and holding it up. “The question is, what are we going to do about it now?”
“We?” he asks, tilting his head at me with interest.
I shrug. “I have time until Sophos responds. And you’re clearly going to need all the help you can get.”
“You’re saying we should—what? Try to drive the Temple back out of the city?” he asks doubtfully. “Not to be tediously pessimistic, but us and what army?”
“Getting them out of Hallowbane altogether is too ambitious,” I say, my soldier’s mind whirring as I consider the possibilities.
“But I’m assuming you didn’t take over your parts of the city all in one go.
You won them piece by piece, one neighborhood at a time.
Start by driving the Temple out of one area and take it from there.
Hallowbane isn’t like other places—the people here are tough and not afraid of being on the wrong side of the law.
If you start building a foundation of resistance and show these clerics can be beaten on a small scale, you’ll create a tide of opposition that will stand you in good stead to seize more territory. ”
He stares at me, not saying anything for a moment.
“What?” I ask, thinking he has some bone to pick with my suggestions.
“I just love it when you talk strategy to me. It’s devastatingly sexy.”
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks heat at the compliment. Ridiculous flirting aside, at least he’s sensible enough to know good advice when he hears it.
“So you may not be able to raise an army right now, but your next step should be building a team,” I continue, mounting my horse.
“Now that I can do,” he says, climbing up onto his own animal. “Hallowbane might have gone to the dogs, but I’ve still got a lot of friends in low places—and in Hallowbane, those are the best places.”
Morgana
I dangle the seal between my fingers, examining it for the hundredth time.
I’ve been careful to keep it out of the view of the smugglers, but I keep finding myself drawn to it.
Maybe part of me thinks if I stare at it long enough, I’ll be able to understand why Caledon is so obsessed with the power he thinks these artifacts can bring.
“Leon’s gone and done it now,” Tira says. “He’s never going to be able to give you a present that tops that.”
“Oh, I can think of a few things,” I smirk.
“Gross,” Tira rolls her eyes.
“The only gross thing is your imagination, Tira Holms,” I say, nudging her with my foot. I feel buoyant, even hopeful. I may not be looking forward to a week of knocking around in the cramped cabins of this boat, but it’s a minor price to pay for finding the seal.
Leon enters, a dark expression on his face. I’d been too engrossed in the seal to notice his mood across the mooring, but I’m very aware of it now.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I just bumped into a member of the crew, and they almost jumped out of their skin.”
“Well, you’re the Nightmare Prince,” I point out. “You’re very terrifying.”
My joke doesn’t work, and I realize he’s not annoyed about this—he’s worried.
“That’s not it,” he says. “I know they’re being extra cautious with the Temple sniffing around lately, but these people are hardened criminals used to danger. I don’t understand what they’re so tense about.”
“You think there’s something else going on?”
“I’m not sure,” he admits. “I just know I don’t like it.”
I stand. “Then we should ask to be put ashore.”
Both Leon and Tira’s eyebrows rise.
“We should do what?” my friend asks, having not heard the majority of our conversation.
“If your gut tells you something’s wrong, we should trust it,” I say to Leon. “Let’s just get Ravesley to put in at the nearest port, and we’ll travel back a different way.”
Leon gives me a grateful look. “Thank you, my love, for trusting me.”
Tira shrugs, rising. “Sounds good to me. I get seasick anyway. I’ll go tell the others.”
“Come on,” I say to Leon. “Let’s talk to Ravesley.” I hand him back the seal before we go up. I get the sense he likes to hold onto it, likely because it makes him think of his father.
The captain’s alone on the bridge, but when we explain our plan, his reaction is instant.
“No,” Ravesley growls. “It’s too dangerous.”
Leon looms over him, his glower far outstripping the captain’s.
“It wasn’t a request,” Leon says. “We paid you handsomely for you to take us where we wanted, when we wanted. Now, you’ll put in at the next port, or you’ll learn I’m much nastier to tangle with than the Temple.”
At Leon’s words, the captain goes pale, his eyes widening to show the whites around them. I feel bad for him.
“I would’ve thought you’d want to get us off your boat, captain,” I say to him. “We are, after all, something of a Temple magnet.”
The captain tugs at his beard so hard I almost wince. “I can’t do it. You have to believe me, it’s not possible.”
A tightness coils in my stomach.
“Look at him,” I say to Leon. “He’s terrified.”
Of what?
“Why can’t you take us?” Leon demands, reaching forward to grab the captain by the collar of his shirt.
But his hand never gets there, because just then a roar fills my ears, and we all look across the bow to see a wall of water hurtling toward the boat.