56. Chapter 56
56
Nelle
T he moment my foot crossed the temple’s threshold, I knew I’d made a grave mistake. A mistake that could cost the lives of myself, my sisters and parents, and every single person connected to the Wychthorns.
I hadn’t gone to the woods today—not this morning, nor this evening. I hadn’t found time. And stupidly, stupidly , letting the dark power unleash itself in my bedroom wasn’t enough. I hadn’t freed its fire, its might.
I’d come to the temple as a child, nine years old and already strange. Curiosity had drawn me up the worn stone steps toward the large open archway, Hazus’s yawning mouth beckoning me inside his belly, and I’d felt a sensation, almost as if the temple inhaled a breath and expelled it. In the stale rank currents of air, power whispered over my flesh, enticing and intoxicating as if it had sung to me, wanting me to drink my fill of the darkness that strummed through the shadowed temple.
As I’d lingered at the entranceway, my foot hovering over the threshold, the creature had stirred, slithering around my bones, and I’d heard it for the very first time, clearly as if it had been standing right beside me, hissing into my ear. But it was in my mind its rasping voice had spoken. “ Hello, tiny little thing… ”
Terrified, I’d spun away and fled.
Now, years later, I entered Hazus and Skalki’s temple.
The creature was curious and thrummed with excitement. There was too much pain, too much blood and suffering and death residing within these stone walls.
All I wanted to do was spin around and run. Run far, far away.
But I couldn’t.
The Houses were split and arranged to face one another to allow a wide gap between them so the Horned Gods performing the blessing could stride through and take their places on the dais.
The skittish flames of wildfyre burning in sconces along the wall held the gloom back. A row of pillars braced the vaulted ceiling and slender arched entryways broke up the outer walls. Though fresh air could filter in, the scent of rot stung my nostrils. However, it also seduced my senses and the thing inside me purred.
I followed Graysen, with Caidan striding right behind me, and took my place amongst the Crowthers. Not in the front row, but where Graysen gestured with a flick of his fingers, the second. The Crowthers had situated themselves near the end position of our society, with a slim opening in the wall directly at our back. Their rank should have placed them further up in the line of Houses, but as usual, they kept themselves apart. I gripped my adamere bracelet tightly, the beads warm against my palm, ensuring I didn’t make eye contact with Graysen’s aunt and have that blinding fury engulf me. Instead, it was Ferne who stood in front of me.
Sickly looking thorned vines tangled around the pillars and crept across the ceiling. The insides of the temple, its columns and walls, were carved with the varying shapes of the Horned Gods. Fascination and distress warred within me at confronting such terrifying beauty. Writhing beasts with claws and fangs, scaled or leathery creatures. Beautiful men and women with forked tongues or a crown of horns. Indistinguishable shapes of elemental beings.
Curiously, I caught a look of pride shared between the Crowthers as they settled into rank as if they’d arrived home?.
Great House after Great House inherited the temple from those before us who had either fallen from grace or been annihilated. There was no knowledge of who reigned before the Final War. But I had my suspicions.
In a book so old I’d been afraid the pages would crumble to dust, there’d been a reference to the family who’d held the position. Not by name. Instead, there’d been a mention of wyrms, and there was only one House who’d battled alongside wyrms in the Final War. Only one House tamed wyrms. House Crowther.
The Crowthers had borne the heavy mantle of the Great House millennia ago, I was sure of it. And I wondered, once more, what their ancestors had done to reduce them to a Lower House.
Graysen’s family surrounded me, their body heat warming the air, yet I couldn’t get rid of the deep, bone-chilling sensation. With so many dark souls gathered together, hoarfrost crawled through my veins, prickling my flesh with goosebumps. I felt as if I’d pushed through the front door into a snowstorm.
Soft murmuring between the Houses echoed tenfold in the temple, even louder in my ears. The scraping of heels and custom-made leather shoes on ancient stone, the rustling of haute couture dresses. Even the breathing was loud— too loud, too many people— a discordant symphony of chaotic notes vying for attention. Humming a note to bring up the wall of white noise wasn’t working either.
“Concentrate on your breath,” I heard, barely a whisper that cut through the clashing sounds. “It’s only noise. Dial it down in your head. Drown it out with your thoughts,” Graysen murmured.
I rubbed my ears, tilting my head from side to side as if clearing water from my inner ear. I focused on my breathing—in and out, in and out, in…and…out—and perhaps it wasn’t the best thing for me to be thinking of, but it kept flipping through my mind— What is he hiding from me?
Graysen hadn’t answered me earlier. Mela and Elyse had distracted me from returning to the question— What had I to do with his punishment?
But when I felt the nudge of Graysen’s nose nuzzling against my neck and a warm mouth at my ear, that question haunting my thoughts exploded into spinning fragments when he breathed, “If you want to think of all the dirty things I know you want to do with me, go right ahead.”
My locked muscles tightened for a very different reason altogether, and it was an effort to bite back the moan at the caress of hot air whirling over the shell of my ear, the instinctive bow of my spine.
I blinked up at him, my mouth suddenly dry. His gaze dipped to my lips, and I shivered in response to the desire heating his midnight eyes.
He noticed with a slow, satisfied, masculine smile. Acting so quickly I barely registered his movement—he nipped my earlobe. The sting of his bite speared lust through my core.
Holy…Skalki…
He’d done what he’d intended. The maelstrom of noise instantly muted with the anticipation of those skilled hands on my body again, the echo of his tongue on my clit.
I nudged my elbow into his ribs, heat flushing my cheeks. I didn’t know why the heck I was blushing since I’d pretty much jumped him only a few minutes ago. “Gods, Crowther, keep it PG,” I whispered.
He huffed a laugh and gave a cocky wink.
Air stirred against my skin from the other side of me, as someone shifted their body—Caidan.
Graysen’s attention flashed upward, over the top of my head, and whatever he saw in his brother doused the amusement. He blinked, and his expression wiped clean of all emotion. The icy wall returned.
He averted his gaze and stared ahead, bored.
Confusion whorled in my mind, settling uncomfortably in my stomach, as he adjusted himself so he wasn’t standing close to me anymore. I was still staring in bewilderment at his profile when I felt a featherlight stroke. The back of his hand brushed against my own. A whispering touch that I felt like a shockwave rippling through my entire body. His little finger curled around mine and tightened briefly before he let go.
My heart swelled, actually swelling so big I thought it might burst from my chest, and the intense relief I felt surprised me. I knew he cared, knew he was mine, but it was still new and precarious, so I played his game and turned away to ignore him, too.
Rising on tippy-toes, I peered through the slender gaps between the Crowthers, toward where my mother and father stood beside the altar, a slab of rough stone, pockmarked and stained with marks of rusty red. Corné’s parents, Aldert and Irma, were there too, as well as the extended family of Wychthorns flanking either side—cousins and uncles and aunts I’d rarely met. My father’s protectiveness had broadened to even keeping me away from his own family.
I should be standing with my parents.
For the first time, I stood with the Crowthers at the other end of the temple, positioned amongst the Lower Houses. This would be my place once I turned twenty and Graysen claimed me with the right of the marriage contract behind him.
I thought I’d have resented the fact, but now, as dread inched down my spine like creepy crawly things, I was grateful Graysen had anticipated this before I’d even had time to panic. Here, cloistered amongst the Crowthers, I was distanced from the altar, where our innocent tithe would give up her life.
An exchange—hers to extend my sister’s life.
This was my world, my reality, my darkness.
It simply was.
There was no other way to explain it.
I knew no other life apart from those books I had devoured. Mortals, people , who were blind to our existence. The knowledge of their own history, of our old gods Skalki and Zrenyth who had given them, us , life, who they’d worshipped and been enslaved to, was stolen from them after the divergence that had occurred after the Final War.
The Children of the Harbinger, their legion of others, and the army of mortals had crushed the Houses with their might. Those of our ancestors who had survived the endless slaughter scattered and went into hiding. On the bloodbath of a battleground, the Horned Gods delivered one last frantic blow, collectively gathering their remnants of power to strip the mortals of thirdsight that allowed them to see the Horned Gods and their secondsight which enabled them to see the otherworldly beasts and critters living within our world. Lastly, they wiped the mortals’ memories of their history. Without their sight , nor knowledge, there was no urge to cling to the old ways, no uprising either. No stirring from the Children of the Harbinger with their fervent need to hunt us down, to end us, to wipe the earth clean of our existence.
People, mortals , their population exploded and flourished while the Horned Gods remained hidden in shadowed pockets, and our ancestors regrouped. Over millennia, we’d hunted down the Children of the Harbinger, ending their fanatics one by one.
But what were those things in the catacombs?
Who had tried to capture me?
Movement distracted my thoughts. Directly across from us stood House Estlore. They, along with the V?duvas, Lyons, and Troelsens, were hunters, hunting mortals with traces of other for Upper House Forstner.
Did they know? Can they see me? Feel me?
Elyse smoothed back the stray locks that had come loose from her hair gathered on top of her head. The wind perhaps had caused wayward strands to come free, but more likely it had been from someone else’s hands sliding through her golden hair. She smiled, and I didn’t need to wonder at who. The bright love shining in her eyes gave her away—Mela.
I sought Mela out. She stood in the front row of her family, positioned right beside the Crowthers.
A sliver of envy stabbed my heart as soon as my gaze landed on her sensual features. When Mela had earlier rounded the back of the temple with Elyse, I hadn’t caught sight of the other woman she’d been entwined with. I’d only seen Mela and fierce jealousy had ignited my blood like oil consuming flames on water. It had driven every rational thought out of my head. I’d wanted to claw her eyes out, obliterate her on the spot. She’d been with Graysen. Had her hands and mouth and tongue on him. Fucked, what was mine !
The same wrathful feeling rose to the surface. Oblivious to everything but Mela, my fingers fisted and lifted, dark power gathered—
The adamere bracelet softly chinked —
Calm, calm, calm… I reminded myself, stunned at how quickly I’d succumbed.
The creature rumbled inside, chuckling.
Shut up! —I snapped at it.
My lips thinned, and I twirled my wrist, freeing the long strand of adamere beads my father long ago had given me, just as I felt it. Felt them.
They were here.
The Horned Gods.
Their immense power caused the air to thin, as if they had sucked all the oxygen from the temple, gathering it at Hazus’s opening where they stood out of sight. The wildfyre, burning in ancient sconces, spluttered in response, then roared higher, the fierce blue flames flaring toward the entrance as if reaching for the insidious beasts.
Inside me, the creature raked along my bones and writhed beneath my skin.
The murmuring of conversation died. There was nothing but silence as everyone waited, still as death.
Footfall rang, like rock cracking against rock, reverberating inside the temple as three Horned Gods stepped into view.
Master Sirro.
A Frankenstein child of no more than ten years old.
And a creature I’d never seen before, but everyone knew of—Urstlo.
Likeness sang to one another, and my blood strummed an intoxicating note as the Horned Gods stood beneath the toothy archway. Their darkness brewing like black thunderclouds sang to my own. An electrifying sensation, as if the storm rolling across the sky outside had exploded within the confines of the tomb-like temple, stuttered my heartbeat and buffeted against my flesh, prickling all the fine hair on my body.
For one long, long moment, desire crawled beneath my skin like smoke.
I wanted that power, to steal it, make it my own, wield it how I wanted. I craved it with a blistering intensity that flowed through my veins and made my blood burn hotter.
My power breathed out, icy tendrils of wind toyed with the ends of my hair, skimming my flesh—
“ Wychthorn ,” softly murmured. A sharp tug on my little finger—Graysen.
I snapped out of it, blinking rapidly and squinting as if I’d stepped from the depths of a black cavern right into sunshine, terrified at how easily I’d given in.
The creature hissed, furious at being denied.
I barked at it— Hide yourself!
It snarled in reply, a snapping of fangs.
Now, do it now!
It growled, long and low and full of fury, but bound itself up in a tight coil, but also not quite shielding itself either.
Shield yourself! —I shrieked.
NO!
Blind panic erupted and filled my vision with dizzying black spots. The thing inside had never disrespected my commands before. However, I’d always burned it out before entering a dangerous situation. And here I was, facing not one but three Horned Gods.
Please —I begged it.
It chuckled in reply. The sound of its rasping laughter stabbed my chest with icy needles.
The Houses gracefully swept to one knee, bowing as the Horned Gods entered. Every single one bowed but the Wychthorns. We lowered our heads in respect. But we did not bow. We did not fall to our knees. We stood out amongst the ocean of followers like flotsam, our rank separating us from the servants to the Horned Gods.
Though the Crowthers kneeled and I remained standing, I was still hidden in some ways. Ferne knelt directly in front of me, her father and Jett on either side, flanked by Valarie and Kenton. I stood in the second row between Graysen and Caidan, and the extended Crowther family filled up the remaining space, five rows deep. Had they purposely placed me behind the front row and themselves in prominent positions, not to show me my place in their family, but to hide me from the Horned Gods?
Master Sirro, in a three-piece suit, elegant and refined, smiled broadly at everyone as if he were entering a soiree, not an actual sacrifice. With a hand tucked into a pocket of his pants, he strolled into the temple. Silvery threads of power rippled off him like a nightmare and his Familiar, his faithful shadow, followed in his wake.
Golden eyes gleamed when they fell upon me, and his smile grew sensual.
An oily sensation slicked over my skin at the flare of lust in his eyes when they darted to my lips. He inclined his head, acknowledging my presence, and I swallowed thickly, returning the gesture .
In my periphery, Graysen angled himself and sharpened his gaze on Master Sirro. I felt the heaviness, the hardness of his stare. But I kept my line-of-sight straight ahead, my gaze vacant, while every single part of me focused on wrangling that creature inside me, begging it to hide from the Horned Gods.
It wouldn’t listen. It wouldn’t obey.
Master Sirro’s companions followed leisurely.
My truesight raked over the child—the patchwork of Frankenstein limbs and individual features, stolen and stitched together with stringy sinew to make up her face.
As the Horned God approached, it was the softest sound, but I heard it like a gunshot—Ferne sucked in a sharp breath.
Blistering fury sparked against my icy skin like embers caught in a flurry of wind. Glancing down, shock barreled through me to see Graysen fixated on the young girl, with as much hate in his eyes as the fury rolling off him.
Anger, such unrelenting anger, was directed at the Horned God.
And not only him, either. All his brothers vibrated with dark rage.
I frowned, hesitating momentarily in wrangling the creature as I ran through every bit of knowledge I’d gathered in my years of research, leafing through dusty books in our library and sitting in my father’s office eavesdropping on phone conversations he had with other Heads. Mistress Lyressa, it had to be her. With the realization, it came back to me, what Graysen had shared with me in the woodland— A monster with the face of a child.
Battle-black eyes flicked to mine. “Look, from the corner of your eye, and you’ll see what everyone else does,” Graysen gritted out quietly.
When I turned my head away, peeking at the girl through the feathered shadows of my eyelashes, I saw a beautiful child with sweet lips and a pert nose. Angelic curls of blond framed soft round cheeks. Innocent. A lie. A wonderful, deadly lie.
Mistress Lyressa bounced as she walked, swinging her arms like an excited girl would. She wore a white sailor blouse tied with a navy bow, a pleated skirt, knee-high socks, and shiny black patent shoes. She looked almost as if she were skipping her way off to school, not heading toward a stone altar crusted with age-old blood.
It was her big wide eyes that captivated me in that sweet, innocent face. The most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. They were the dusky blue of a distant mountain range, striates of violet and clouded with pink and peach. A sunrise. A beautiful, glorious sunrise .
The thing that prowled behind her cast the sunrise over in gloom.
The third Horned God towered over everyone.
Urstlo.
Its figure vaguely resembled a giant human, but that was where the similarity ended. It was formed from darkness—pitch-black night. The kind of darkness that squeezed the air from my lungs and threatened to shatter my mind. The only thing to be seen within that nightmare were four crimson eyes, and a mere glimpse of something else roiling beneath the darkness—flashes of silver and the faintest sound of gnashing.
The creature hissed— Let me out… I want to see… Let me taste it. The thing inside me could feel the ancient, cruel power of the Horned God lapping against my flesh.
Wrong, wrong, wrong —my powers sang. Pain and suffering and agony wrapped themselves around the shadowy god, but the creature that lived within me was desperate to discover how wrong Urstlo was.
I squirmed a little, trying not to look obvious in my discomfort. My clothes were too tight. My shoes uncomfortable. When I rubbed my forehead, a thin layer of clammy sweat coated my trembling fingers.
Shit, shit, shit—
My breath left me in a long, low whispering hiss.
A terrible, terrifying mistake, I realized as Urstlo’s pace faltered. It lifted its head, and from within its cloak of darkness, I heard it sniff the air—
Urstlo stopped walking altogether.
A trickle of sweat slithered from beneath my hair down my spine.
Urstlo drew in another long inhale, its head slightly turning my way, its numerous eyes glowing like red-hot coals.
Urstlo slowly, ever so slowly, twisted toward the Crowthers.
My heart stuttered—kicked into a frantic hummingbird pulse.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Graysen pressing a palm across his chest, right over his heart. His head whipped to mine, eyes full of worry.
Urstlo stepped toward the Crowthers, a blot of darkness in the dim temple.
Inside, the creature growled, digging into my bones with claws and fangs.
Shield yourself! —I urged.
It snarled viciously— NO!
They’ll feel me. They’ll know. They’ll claim me! —I begged it.
I turned everything inside, desperate to bind the creature to me, to hold back its curiosity—the dark power that fought against every terrified beat of my heart, demanding to be let go.
Urstlo stalked closer… So close… It’s going to find me!
What can I do? Run? Swift?
Three more steps and it would be before me.
Two more steps—and my knees almost buckled.
One more—terror punched the oxygen from my lungs.
Urstlo loomed over the Crowthers.
Every single Crowther remained where they kneeled, not a single emotion to show they feared Urstlo or were even concerned or curious why the Horned God towered over their House. But they were tense, battle-ready. I could feel the thickness of it in the air, saw it in the way the brothers carefully shifted to brace themselves, as Varen’s hand minutely twitched, fingers inching to the inside of his jacket.
I heard a sound from Urstlo, a deep inhale of breath—
Ferne gracefully rose.
Valarie gasped, the noise cutting through the silence of the temple.
Varen reached for her. “Ferne!”
But she’d taken a single long step, taking her out of line.
Ferne tilted her head to the side. Long black hair shimmering with blue light fell over her shoulder as she pivoted around to face Urstlo.
The Horned God reared back. It hunched its shoulders to bow down lower, and stared at Ferne through those crimson eyes. The sound of a sniff could be heard, as if this was the way it sensed someone.
The hollow clack of Ferne’s high heels on stone echoed against the carved walls as she took a sideways step. Mistress Lyressa had stopped in her journey toward the dais, as had Master Sirro, both of them turning back to see who had disrespected them.
Master Sirro didn’t look angered, merely curious.
Though Ferne faced Urstlo, I knew she wasn’t addressing the creature. She was speaking to Mistress Lyressa, her voice low and raspy. “You have my eyes.”
Lyressa’s beautiful eyes— Ferne’s —leisurely skated over the youngest Crowther’s lithe body. A smile curved her lips. “My, you’ve grown. It feels like only yesterday when I gazed upon a small child.” Ice speared through my chest to hear her voice, youthful as the child she appeared but ancient and twisted as well.
Ferne inclined her head, smiling serenely. If she were terrified of facing a Horned God, nothing gave her away.
Shock spiraled through me. A Horned God had stolen Ferne’s eyes, as I’d guessed the night before. Graysen’s mother had died because he couldn’t protect her against the Horned Gods, and his sister’s eyes had been taken. For failing them both, his aunt had punished him ruthlessly over the course of a year.
How old would Ferne have been?
My mind quickly came up with the answer… three . She’d have been three years old when Mistress Lyressa had snatched her eyes.
I half-turned to Graysen and found him rigid, his chest heaving with shortened breath. I could feel his anger, his panic. He lurched forward—
I locked a hand on his shoulder. Beneath my grip, taut muscles bulged as he struggled against my strength. But I tightened my hold, my fingernails biting into his flesh. A warning. A reminder. He wanted to do something, anything , to protect his baby sister, and I needed to stop his recklessness.
Graysen’s gaze sliced to mine—such turmoil burned in his eyes, fury and hate and guilt, and there was unfettered panic, too. He was terrified for Ferne.
The clatter of soles on stone drew my attention back to Mistress Lyressa, who walked up to Ferne and rose on tippytoes in her childish shoes. Her hand, gods, the putrid flesh of the patchwork hand she’d hacked from who-knows, reached up to cup Ferne’s chin to tilt her head this way and that. Acid burned up my throat. Was she thinking of stealing something else from Ferne?
“Such pretty eyes… I couldn’t resist when I saw you with them.” She gazed through the sunrise orbs she’d thieved, staring at the delicate lattice-work of lace that was wrapped around Ferne’s forehead, hiding the empty eye-sockets from everyone’s sight.
Horror churned in my gut.
I’d often wondered if someone had stolen Ferne’s eyes because she was other , wondering if she could see things others couldn’t. But Lyressa had stolen them from Ferne, a three-year-old child, simply because she liked the color of the irises?
Graysen shoved at my hand squeezing his shoulder. I let go, only to snatch a fistful of his hair, arching his neck painfully. Veins corded on his throat. Fury blazed from eyes gone so feral I wasn’t sure if I could reach him. His lips, thin and bloodless, pulled back from white teeth as he silently snarled.
I shook his head just once. My iron glare was just as intent— No.
His nostrils flared.
I tightened my hold, my gaze glacial.
Slowly, so slowly, I felt the change in him, the acquiescence a moment before his limbs slackened in defeat .
There was nothing any of us could do.
I relaxed my grip, but I didn’t release him. Turning to Ferne, I saw her smile. “I hope they bring you joy,” she said to Mistress Lyressa.
“They do. They garner such exquisite compliments.”
Satisfied, the Horned God released Ferne, and the youngest Crowther respectfully inclined her head before stepping back into line between her father and Jett and swooped to one knee. Her glossy black hair fell forward like a waterfall and hid her face.
Maybe it was the shock. Maybe it was because I had been focused on keeping Graysen kneeling, or maybe it was because Urstlo’s focus had been diverted to Ferne. Whatever Urstlo had sensed and smelled was gone, or maybe it was only distracted from the hunt. It turned and followed Mistress Lyressa as she moved with purpose toward the dais. And as my gaze trailed them, I locked eyes with Master Sirro. His attention hadn’t been on his companions, nor had it been on Ferne. It had been on me.
His golden gaze glided down my arm to my fingers knotted around Graysen’s messy hair to keep him in place. His mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smile.
I let go of Graysen and tore my gaze from Master Sirro’s, letting it fall upon Ferne kneeling in front of me, her head bowed in reverence. A sudden thought slithered into my mind— She confronted Mistress Lyressa, not because the Horned God had stolen her eyes, but to distract Urstlo from me…
Why would she?
But the thought slipped away as soon as the Horned Gods reached my father, stepped onto the dais and turned to face us all.
“Rise,” Master Sirro said in his polished voice, gesturing with an elegant wave of a hand.
The temple was suddenly a loud cacophony of shifting fabric and clattering feet as the Houses rose to their feet, and as one, spun to face the dais.
Relief flooded through me to be hidden from sight by the tall Crowthers. For once, being small wasn’t such a bad thing. But it was short-lived when I remembered why we were here. The books I had read contained information about the Blessing from the Horned Gods. I’d heard about it from Lise, as well as from my father, who’d earlier explained what tonight would entail to better prepare me.
But nothing… nothing could prepare me for this.
Evvie and Corné would consume the tithe’s sacrifice, blending her stolen soul with her blood, and with every sip of that ruby-red liquid, their natural life expectancy would extend and fertility would be enhanced. After all, the Horned Gods required us to keep them hidden, and they needed the continuation of our Houses. As for the couple’s happiness…well that wasn’t something the Horned Gods were concerned about.
With the shift of facing the dais, it changed our positions within the rows and Graysen swapped places with one of his cousins to move back to my side. His fingers skimmed my chilly goose-prickled arm. Concern flashed in his obsidian eyes. But before he could ask what worried me, Evvie and Corné entered the temple. Evvie looked stoic, a keen edge to her normally serene features. She didn’t glance at Corné, nor take his hand, but stepped forward as regal as a queen, as a woman who might sling the mantle of Great House around her shoulders and wear it well. Corné stumbled a step to catch up with her, and together they walked through our ranks.
Corné kept his gaze straight ahead, but as he passed by, his eyes slid sideways to find mine fixed on him.
I smiled.
He quickly averted his gaze, his skin paling to a sickly color, and he swallowed. The tips of his fingers skimmed his bruised and swollen cheek.
My smile grew broader.
A young woman trailed behind them both—the Wychthorn tithe.
She was taller than even my sister, and my complete opposite with straight dark brown hair falling a touch above her shoulders and speckled hazel eyes. The almost see-through shift tangled around her ankles as she kept pace. And that brilliance her soul shone with—she glowed—an iridescent sheen to her skin that lit up the shadowed depth of the temple.
This was the girl I’d comforted two nights ago before she had been taken from the tithe prison to the temple and confined there to be polished and preened and primped.
Quiet. She was so quiet. I thought she’d be raging or weeping or begging. But there was a faraway look in her gaze—obviously, she’d been sedated to ease her into death.
As she walked by, there was a flash of deep searing heat that would have scalded my flesh if not for the bone-chilling souls lowering the temperature of my body. She glanced my way and gave a sudden jolt as if she’d abruptly awoken and become aware of my presence. Her eyes flashed wide, perhaps not with recognition but with some innate instinct that recognized what I’d been to her .
The power inside me writhed with eagerness— What is she?
She was an Everlasting Shard—pure of soul and a life extender. Nothing untoward had happened to this girl. Her charmed life had shone brightly and she would have lived until a ripe old age, longer than her family, and all her friends, if she hadn’t unwittingly crossed paths with one of the Houses. Our House.
Let me out— it purred.
No.
The creature roiled inside my gut, bristling and hackling that I was denying it freedom.
It roared— LET ME OUT!
I snarled back— NO!
I had to keep it bound and hidden. If the Horned Gods discovered what I was. That my family had shielded me all these years… Entire Houses had been wiped out for less.
The creature slammed against my mind, against my will, pounding me as if I were a brick wall.
I squeezed my eyes shut and held onto the adamere bracelet with all my might, squeezing the beads so tightly in my palms I was sure they’d bruise— My roots are deep, my strength is stone, my breath the wind. I bow to none.
I needed to reach that place that kept everything in check.
The thing inside me writhed and hissed and yowled. It fought with fangs and claws. Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!
NO! —I screamed.
And just like that—I lost my grip on the creature.
Its senses swirled outward—
Blind panic erupted, and I mentally scrambled, lurching forward to grab hold and reel it back in—
Too late, too late. I’d been noticed.
Undiluted fear slammed into me.
Master Sirro’s head whipped around. I remained mostly hidden from his sight, but I could feel his senses searching down the line of Houses, those near-invisible wisps of power rolling like fog down the steps of the dais, creeping like black crawling insects through the rows of Houses, testing and tasting.
I felt someone else’s attention.
I peered around Ferne, who stood to my right. Across from us, standing amongst her family, Elyse Estlore’s gaze shot to me.
My heart jolted .
There was strain on her face. Her golden skin had paled, and she fixed her unnerving stare on mine.
Oh my gods, she didn’t recognize what’s inside me, did she?
Lyressa and Urstlo hungrily fixated on the tithe, on her pure soul shining like a beacon. But Master Sirro was still searching for me, a furrow between his brows. He folded one arm over his chest, while his other hand curled beneath his chin, stroking through the bristles of his short neat beard with a crooked finger, brushing back and forth along his jawline.
Narrowed golden eyes bounced between the Estlores and Crowthers.
Inside, that familiar fizzing feeling bubbled in my veins and under my skin, as if I was going to erupt like a ripe peach split and full of juice. My chest fell and rose with short panicked breaths. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep the gasp for oxygen from resounding in the cold, airy space.
I was breaking apart. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it together.
I trembled with the effort, my adamere bracelet shivering with me as the creature fought to free itself. Fat drops of sweat rolled from my temples like tears. Gods, it was so powerful. I knew how powerful it could be.
Gripping my beads tighter, as tight as my hold on the thing thrashing around inside me, I willed it back down, begged it to hide— My roots are deep, my strength is stone, my breath the wind. I bow to none.