Chapter 2
Two
The hour was later than I’d guessed when I emerged from the sprawling depths of the labyrinth.
The path around the amphitheater was long, so I decided to cut back through and climb the steps instead.
The shortcut was quick, and soon I’d be back home.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted first, a soak in the pools or to succumb to sleep, although it was often broken and spoiled with nightmares.
As I limped back, I tried to figure out what had gone wrong. I’d danced, and tonight the magic had held…
Except for the green-eyed man.
I turned our conversation over in my mind as I walked, finally arriving at the only conclusion that fit. He wanted the dance to stop. Why? To loose the demons on our souls and rule whatever remained, no longer the king of the spaces between, but king of the living and the wicked?
Yet the memory of him lingered close. Wine and spice, that bright edge of citrus, the loose fall of his shirt at his throat.
Heat slid through me at the memory of his bright eyes, and shame came after it.
I felt breathless, hot and useless. Like I needed something to give me relief.
I pressed my nails into my palm, forcing myself to reason again.
He wanted the dance to stop; that was all I needed to know about him. I should not be curious for more.
The sky was a deep maroon as I walked, which meant I’d been in the depths for half the night, lying unconscious for longer than I’d thought before I found that mysterious man. I shivered. Had I been missed? Had anyone come looking for me?
I entered the amphitheater and paused.
Someone was sleeping on the steps.
Not unusual. Revelers slept where the wine dropped them, but most crawled home before sunrise.
As I climbed the steps, a strange scent reached me, of rot and iron.
It carried a familiar tang that made my body tense, sending my mind roiling back to a buried memory.
My muscles seized, and my pulse sped up.
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, reminding myself I was safe. No one was there but a sleeping person.
The morning light was bright enough to give me details.
A woman lay unnaturally still. Black hair torn loose from its braid.
A woven dress, blue and yellow, shredded down one side.
I knew that hair, that dress. The fall of those shoulders, the long fingers turned up to the sky, curled open, as though something had been ripped out of them.
My stomach churned. I pressed both hands to my mouth, too late to trap the sound that escaped me. I sank onto the steps, and only then did I see the blood, a slow dark river descending stair by stair, so plain now that I couldn’t fathom how my eyes had missed it.
Avent Gardelle. Rift Mother. Mother of us all. Someone had killed her on the one night we were supposed to be safe. Who would dare to do this?
The reek of bile and blood made me gag, and for a moment I was cast back into a memory of long ago. Of growls and tearing, screams and torn flesh. The scent of blood, so much blood. The claws that ripped my side, the chant of Rift Mother as she chased away the demon.
She had saved me. I made myself look. If I owed her anything, I owed her witness.
Her throat had not been cut but torn, a gash deep enough to silence a god.
On her outstretched palm, drawn in her own blood, was a mark, a full moon sprouting thorns.
I didn’t recognize it. No dancer wore it; no statue bore it.
Beside her head were words scrawled in crimson: The dancer bleeds so the dark one feeds.
Beneath the words, slashed in a single stroke, was an arrow pointing downward.
I trembled, thinking of the man in the catacombs. His vivid green eyes. Was this his doing, or had my dance failed? Were there gaps in the rift, enough for monsters to escape and do this? Were there more bodies?
I rose too fast, the world tilting. The palace, I had to reach it. But first, I pressed my palms together and whispered the prayer for the dead, a safe passage for her soul to its final resting place. She’d saved me once. I would find who did this and make them pay.
A surge of strength came over me as I ran uphill, following the slanted curves that led to the mouth of the Sacred Palace.
The doors were open for the sunrise ritual, incense rising, mixing with the low river of female voices, quiet, peaceful, still tired from the moonlight ritual. They were safe. They didn’t know.
“She’s dead,” I shouted. “She’s dead,” I repeated, voice breaking. It rose like a mantra. The body. The blood. The empty shell without its soul.
Heads lifted. The Vestals—those who served in the Sacred Palace—rose and turned to me.
“Who?” a voice cried, lifting above the others. “Who?”
I flung a hand toward the entrance. “On the stairs at the amphitheater. There’s so much blood. So much. Go. Please, go and see.”
The older Vestals went first, followed by the Veiled Wardens—men and women who guarded the palace.
They hurried out, veils drawn low, robes snapping, the rhythm of the morning coming unraveled.
The younger dancers clustered around the door, torn between curiosity and propriety.
It was a murder, not a spectacle. I couldn’t find the breath to tell them not to look.
A blanket settled over my shoulders. I sank down, shaking violently.
“Gazelle?”
Verena knelt beside me, brown eyes wide, curls haloing her dark face. She’d been at the palace almost as long as I had. Once we’d been rivals, but now we were friends.
“You were gone all night. What happened?”
Tears spilled over. “Someone…something killed Rift Mother.”
She squeezed my arm gently. “What did you see?”
“She was gone before I found her. There were words written in blood and a mark on her hand. It was—”
A shadow fell across me. A Warden stood over us, face hidden by a veil. “You found her,” he said.
Not a question. His gaze was down, pointed not at Verena but at me and the dried blood streaking my palms. My own blood from the violent coughs that shook my whole body.
“Where were you tonight, Lead Dancer?” he asked.
Verena’s arm came under mine, lifting me, shielding me from him. “Can’t you see she’s in shock? Forget all that for now. Come, Gazelle. Let’s go to the pools.”
I let myself be led away, still feeling the Warden’s gaze on my back. Whether it was concern or suspicion, I did not know.