Chapter 32
When the inquisitor guides me to the entrance of the main cavern again, I see fewer supplicants than before by two or three. I suspect I wasn’t the only one being interrogated and they’ll be escorted back later. Hopefully their experience is better than mine, though.
Everyone looks as though they got fresh clothes, too. What a luxury. Saipha is here, and her worried eyes find mine. She moves to my side, and I instantly feel more confident on my feet. Yet my gaze searches for another…
Lucan stands on the outer edge of our group. He doesn’t look any worse than when I last saw him, as if his interrogation was hardly more than a chat. Our eyes meet, and I open my mouth to say something, but he looks away sharply. He turns his gaze to the prelate instead.
My chest tightens at the unexpected pang of his rejection.
Eventually, we’re taken back to the monastery.
And the entire walk, I can’t help but feel like something has changed within me forever.
The moment we step into the Undercrust, I’m nearly overwhelmed by the flow of Etherlight from the Font.
Never have I felt it so clearly—as if I could reach out and touch it.
Threads of warmth tangle with my fingers, like the handshake of an already familiar friend.
I keep my eyes forward, hoping no one else notices. But Lucan is behind me, and somehow I know he’s seeing it. He never misses anything. I stiffen my shoulders, chin high until Saipha and I are finally alone again on the fourth floor of the residence hall.
“What happened in there?” The question practically explodes from Saipha. “I can tell just by looking at you that something happened.” That’s certainly a way to phrase it.
“You first,” I respond as the door to her room closes. I don’t risk saying anything where inquisitors might hear. “Did you… Were you attacked by scourge, too?”
“What?” She gasps. “Scourge? Why would I— Were you?”
I nod and stagger to her bed, sitting heavily.
Saipha sits next to me. “You were… There was scourge in your room?”
“A flood of it.” It’s so strange to say. Again, it’s like my consciousness has left my body.
“How did you survive?”
I tell her, sparing no details. The entire time, Saipha’s expression shifts between shock and horror. She interrupts me toward the end.
“Hold on just a second.” Saipha holds up her hand.
“You fend off a scourge flood by turning yourself into a human sigil-in-a-chute, then command Etherlight without drawing it through a sigil and shoot a fireball out of your hands… And the vicar— I don’t even know what to call that! Experiments on you?”
“Keep your voice down.” I place my hands on her knees, leaning in with a severe look.
“You don’t think someone’s listening in, do you?”
“I’ve no idea what might be happening. Things seem different now.
Vicar Darius has never done anything like that before.
” I fight a shudder. Somehow, it’s even more terrifying after the fact.
As if what he did to me is only just now settling into the corners of my mind.
I can barely comprehend it. In retrospect, it feels as though I stood before a dragon once more and lived to tell the tale.
“I don’t want to risk him finding out anything or having reason to think I’m less than loyal. ”
Saipha shakes her head and lets out a noise of disgust. “What do you think—”
A knock on the door interrupts her question, and we share an uneasy look. My heart races, my breath shaky, but I grit my jaw and force myself to get up and open the door. To not give in to the fear.
“Lucan?”
Every muscle in his face seems to relax at the sound of his name from my lips.
The furrow between his brows smooths, but the concern that pains his eyes doesn’t abate.
His lips part for a second, ever so slightly, then close, and then he speaks.
And I know that what he says, while true, isn’t what he originally wanted to say.
“I wanted to see how you are.” He seems sincere, but it’s all a complete turnaround from him making a point to not even look at me earlier.
“I’m fine. You?”
He nods, and we stare at each other. Almost awkward. Do a thousand words burn his tongue, too? Does he know that everything has changed in an irrevocable way?
Saipha stands, hands on her hips. “And what were you doing while she was being tortured?”
“Saipha, volume.” I shush her. I spare a single glance down the empty hall, pull him inside, and close the door.
Lucan’s eyes narrow. “What does she mean? You were tortured?”
“Just the vicar seeing if he could get me to use Etherlight without drawing it through a sigil by ripping me open and healing me over and over.” I can’t look at either of them as the moment replays in my mind. My hands ball into fists.
“Isola…” My name is heavy on his lips, but delicate. No one has ever said it like that—filled with so much pain. So much quiet fury. As if he has to whisper or else he’ll scream.
It’s enough to form a lump in my throat, and I shake my head to signal that I don’t want his pity. His well-intended sympathies make me feel far too weak for what the Tribunal demands.
A long stretch of silence. I bring my eyes back to his and find the muscles in his face bulging with how tightly he’s clenching his jaw. Regret contorts his features.
“What about you?” I ask, mostly to move the focus from myself.
He looks down as if guilty. I already have my answer, but I respect that he doesn’t try to lie. Lucan rubs the back of his neck. “I was questioned. But it wasn’t physical.”
“The prelate must like you,” I mutter. I don’t want to blame him for his good luck—for the choices of others that led to the brutality I faced and the relatively painless interrogation he got by comparison.
But it’s difficult to be mature about things when you can still feel your skin ripping from your muscle, flayed by a magic knife beneath your flesh.
Lucan rests his hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle and his voice sincere. “Are you all right?”
I shrug. “I’ll live,” I say and avoid his gaze once more. I really don’t want any more attention for now.
“I’m sorry.” Lucan frowns.
“Are you?” Saipha narrows her eyes.
He turns his displeasure in her direction. “What’s that look for?”
“Strange, I think, that you are assigned to work with Isola as partners when there’s a scourge flood, then you leave her side, and then come back looking fresh as sunshine on a spring day. She’s tortured while you just get a stern talking-to.”
Lucan removes his hand from my shoulder, and I’m surprised to find I miss the weight of it. “And that’s probably because they didn’t care what I did or didn’t do, since I’m neither Valor Reborn nor the person who drew Etherlight without a sigil.”
“Convenient excuse,” Saipha mutters.
Lucan shoots her a glare. “Why are you acting like I’m your enemy when we should be allies? I’m not keeping secrets from you—no need for any of us to keep things from one another.”
I catch Saipha’s eyes, and she arches a brow that asks, So you finally agreed?
“He’s on our side,” I say to her with a shrug, then give him a sidelong glance.
“At least, I’m pretty sure he is after what happened today.
” So much is wrapped into those words. Even as I say them, I can still feel the sensation of his arms around me.
Him supporting me when I could barely keep myself upright.
I have you. Those words are etched on my brain, embossed on my heart.
“You know I am,” he says, as if reading exactly where my mind is.
“No more secrets? Fine. Are you reporting to the vicar?” Saipha is still skeptical.
“I’d need to speak with him to report to him.” Lucan tears his attention from me to give my friend a dull look. “I’m as trapped here as you are. When could I be ‘reporting’?”
“Mercy Knights ultimately report to the vicar, and inquisitors are part of Mercy’s ranks. You could get information to them to be funneled back.”
“I’m not reporting to the vicar.” Lucan rolls his eyes. “But even if I were, it’s not as though I have anything to tell him that he doesn’t know. You think the inquisitors aren’t already telling him everything?”
Saipha opens then shuts her mouth, stilling her retort. She clearly considers this. “But he did ask you to watch her.”
“Yes, so?”
“He did?” I ask softly.
Lucan looks back to me. “Obviously, he did.”
I nod, wishing the admission didn’t sting. I assumed as much…so why does it hurt to hear him say it out loud?
As if he can read my thoughts, Lucan adds, “But he asked everyone loyal to the Creed to do so. I wanted to ally with you for my own reasons.”
Saipha speaks before I can spiral too deeply around what those “reasons” are. “So the vicar—”
“Enough of him. I don’t even like him.” Seething hate is evident in his trembling fists.
“Yes, he asked me to ‘help you’ as much as I could. Yes, he asked me to keep an eye on you. But I’ve already sworn to you I won’t tell him your secrets.
” Lucan shakes his head and looks directly at me.
I can feel the question, even if he’s not asking it. What must I do to prove myself?
This moment feels like it’s a million years long.
What more could I expect of him? He’s proven himself time and again, hasn’t he?
Yet I don’t trust him… Or is it that I don’t want to?
The longer our eyes are locked, the less sure I am.
What do I feel underneath it all? Underneath the traumas the vicar has inflicted upon me.
Is there a genuine distrust of Lucan as a person?
This shouldn’t feel as major as it does. And yet, I sense that whatever I say next will change my life forever. I’m on the knife’s edge, and I’m not sure what in me ultimately pushes me to one side over another, but when it happens, I don’t look back.
“I trust him,” I say to Saipha, even though I keep my eyes on Lucan. “I think he’s going to be a good ally.”
She nods, as if she already knew that was coming. “Lucan, answer me one more thing: Why does being our ally mean so much to you if you’re not reporting back to the vicar?”
“Because I’m tired of being alone,” Lucan says plainly.
I…can relate. I look back to Saipha, more confident than ever in what my gut has told me. “He’s strong and capable, and he can use sigils even though he’s not gilded.”
“You think I’m strong? You’re too kind,” Lucan playfully mocks me. I shoot him a sideways glance that he just smirks at. Is his face a little red, though?
“You’re absolutely sure?” Saipha puts the final call in my hands, knowing how many knots I’ve twisted in over this.
I nod.
“All right. The three of us, then.” Saipha stands, stretches, crosses, and claps him on the shoulder. “Now, can we eat? I’m starving.”
“That’s it?” Lucan clearly has whiplash from her personality. I fight a laugh. After everything I put him through, I get why he’d expect more from her.
“We can’t go in circles all day. Isola trusts you, and that’s good enough for me…until you give me a reason not to. Then I’ll just have to destroy you.” Saipha squeezes by him to leave through the door.
Lucan blinks, turning his confusion to me.
“You’ll get used to her.” I offer a smile and follow Saipha down to dinner.
Lucan’s hand brushes mine as I pass him. He doesn’t pull away, and I glance up at him. But he doesn’t even react. It’s like it didn’t happen at all.
I’m tired of being alone, he said. Is that one of those “reasons” he mentioned earlier?
Or is there something more? Something related to this tension that— I halt the thoughts.
I don’t have to examine where my mind was just going to know it’s dangerous.
Yet, I still hear the echo of what he said, twice: I like you.
I could read a whole library’s worth into those three words.
I suck in a slow breath, chest tight, hoping that by trusting him—by letting him in—I didn’t just make the worst decision of my life.