Chapter 7
Seven
Ivy
“Not much farther,” Petra says as we pause at the corner of one of the city’s streets. She draws her cloak tighter around her. “We’re almost there.”
It’s hard to tell from her tone how much she’s reassuring me and our other companions and how much herself.
The four of us gather close together, scanning the road ahead.
There’s an uneasy edge to the atmosphere in the city that I’m not used to, especially when surrounded by the elegant stone buildings of the inner wards.
Nobles and other upper crust citizens hustle by with anxiously hasty steps and heads ducked low, attitudes much more common on Florian’s fringes.
Even though it’s only early evening, many of the shop and restaurant windows along this stretch are dark. No music or laughter trickles from the establishments that have their lanterns lit, as if even the dinnertime chatter has become subdued.
No one gives us a second glance, but I tug my hood farther forward just in case. Thankfully the wound on my forehead has healed enough that I only need a small bandage now.
What would Julita have made of the unnerving change to the capital city so soon after we left it? It’s hard not to wish I could hear one of her arch remarks that would settle my nerves just a little.
Maybe it’s better that she never had to see this, though.
Only Casimir and Rheave joined Petra and me on our venture into Florian, since the rest of our party is rather recognizable.
And Petra wants to keep her younger siblings out of danger as much as possible.
Stavros and Alek stayed back with Klaudia and Jacos, setting up a campsite in a secluded area using supplies we grabbed from the military storage room.
I’d prefer an even smaller group for sneaking through the city that was under lockdown just a month ago in the hopes of dragging me to the gallows, but having the heir to the throne with us makes other types of caution necessary.
Rheave can fend off attackers with his magic without worrying about going insane or other backlash.
Casimir may be able to use his gift to cajole less hostile parties into helping us.
The most important part of our mission is that we keep Petra—Queen Petra, I still have to remind myself—alive.
I don’t spot any soldiers or obvious Order of the Wild sentries among the pedestrians. When I glance at Rheave, he shakes his head to indicate he doesn’t sense fellow daimon nearby.
I touch Petra’s elbow. “I think it’s safe to continue.”
As we walk down the street, aiming for a steady but casual pace so we don’t look as furtive as I feel, Petra shoots me a quick, tight smile. “I guess you’re used to navigating the city like this. It mustn’t have been easy—all those years you had to stay in hiding to conceal your powers.”
A lump rises in my throat at the thought of all the loneliness and fear that taint my past. Not that I’m particularly less afraid at the moment, but at least I’m not facing the challenge alone.
I aim for a light tone to cover how fraught the question actually is. “I hope the pardon your father planned to extend to me will remain in place under your rule?”
Something flickers in Petra’s expression, there and then gone so swiftly I can’t read the emotion.
She reaches over to grip my arm with an emphatic squeeze.
“As far as I’m concerned, you were never a real threat.
I truly am sorry about how he treated you—how stubborn he was about seeing you as an enemy. ”
The genuine regret in her tone puts me off balance.
I force myself to shrug. “I guess it was understandable. People with my kind of magic haven’t exactly made a great case for ourselves over the centuries.
And you weren’t sure of me at first either, were you?
Even when you didn’t know about my magic.
You weren’t chatting with me at the college only out of friendliness. ”
I don’t say it as an accusation, only a statement of fact, but a hint of a blush colors Petra’s tan cheeks.
“I’m sorry about that too. You were a relative unknown who’d abruptly joined Ster.
Stavros in his investigations. My father wanted to hear what I made of you, whether I thought you had any ulterior motives. ”
“I don’t blame you for that,” I assure her. “I’d imagine I’d have done the same in your position.”
“Still… Thank you for everything you’ve done for my family. You’ve been through more hardship on our behalf than I’ve had to face even a fraction of. If I can regain the country, you can be sure—”
Her voice falters as we come up on another cross-street. Behind me, Casimir makes a soft pained sound.
What used to be a statue at the center of the crossroads now lies shattered across the cobblestones in chunks of marble. A forearm clutching a broken sword lies near my feet. Beyond it, amid the smaller shards, I identify pieces of a leg, a jaw and neck… and the top of a head with a chipped crown.
I passed this statue more than once on my ventures into the inner wards. It depicted King Konram, erected shortly after he took the throne.
Petra draws in her breath with a rasp. But even as I reach for her, she draws herself a little straighter, her shoulders rigid.
Her voice comes out taut. “They’re finding every way they can try to destroy him and our family’s legacy.”
I grimace. I wasn’t King Konram’s biggest fan, but I’d take his rule over the scourge sorcerers’ any day. “They need to convince everyone that the Melchioreks were the villains so they’ll look justified in taking over.”
“Statues can be rebuilt,” Casimir says gently. “We won’t let them win.”
Petra nods in a jerk, her stance tensing even more. “I’m just glad Klaudia and Jacos didn’t see this.”
As we take another turn onto a street that’ll take us to the large courtyard at the foot of the Temple of the Crown, my stomach knots. I don’t have the most pleasant associations with the country’s largest temple.
It’s the place where I watched several riven sorcerers walk to the noose and meet their deaths over the years. And the place where I nearly died stopping one of the scourge sorcerers from calling a wave of destruction down on the city.
But none of my trepidation could have prepared me for the sight that greets us when we reach the edge of the courtyard.
Petra stops in her tracks, sounding as if she’s stifled a gasp. I grip her shoulder and turn her toward me so we can pretend we’re paying attention to each other rather than the scene on the other side of the stretch of cobblestones.
I’d rather look at my future queen than the carnage on display there. Splotches of brownish red linger at the edge of my vision—blood splattered across the temple’s marble walls.
Rheave lets out a hushed growl. “Who are those people? Why would anyone have killed them?”
The blood I’m trying to shut out has come from several bodies who’ve been pinned to the walls by metal posts through their chests. Girding myself, I allow my gaze to veer toward the gruesome display again.
The figures have been savaged as if by wild animals—gouges torn through their clothes and flesh, organs spilling out, necks ripped open. But when I force myself to focus on them, I note the shape and color of their tattered outfits.
Robes of worship.
A surge of horror fills my throat. “They were all clerics and devouts. The ones who worked in the temple, maybe?”
A shiver passes through Casimir’s body. “The ones who refused to play along with the scourge sorcerers, most likely. Did they set hunting dogs on them?”
My stomach churns. “Only their followers, I’d bet.”
When I was playing at being a new recruit to the Order of the Wild, one of my tests was to race through the woods on all fours and tear apart a live rabbit with my bare hands. The conspirators take the name of their organization very literally.
As if there’s anything holy about savaging innocent creatures… or people.
“Yes, look upon those who betrayed their gods!” someone shouts from the doorway of the temple.
“So many of the chosen leaders of our faith cared more about their own satisfaction than that of the All-Giver and the godlen. But the gods have willed that they and the false monarchy who steered our country so wrong should fall and a new age begin.”
More of the scourge sorcerers’ fucking propaganda. My teeth set on edge.
Will anyone in the city buy into their garbage? No doubt. They found plenty of recruits for their conspiracy, after all.
But far more will shut their mouths and stay out of the conflict not out of faith but out of fear that they’ll be ripped to shreds next.
Petra turns her head slowly. She takes in the ruined bodies with only the slightest tremor of her chin.
Her gaze pauses toward the end of the line, and her lips purse in frustration as well as horror. “That’s—that’s Otyla there. The cleric who handled my dedication ceremony, who could have vouched for me. Of course she’d have resisted… And now she’s gone.”
The scourge sorcerers have screwed over the royal family even more than they know.
I swallow a curse and squeeze her arm to bring her attention back to me. “Was there anyone else at the temple who was involved—who’d be able to confirm that Prince Dunstam didn’t die, only became Princess Petra?”
She shakes her head. “Father kept it as quiet as possible. No one knew except him, Mother, my brother and sister, and Otyla. Although Lothar may have started to suspect after seeing that I was brought along with the rest of the family to Regica.”
Her hands ball into fists. “I could have stayed at the college—kept up the ruse—then I’d have been here when the scourge sorcerers took over…”
Casimir comes up beside her and rests a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Your parents wanted to keep you safe. And if you hadn’t been with them, it’s possible Klaudia and Jacos wouldn’t have escaped Lothar’s attack. You can’t blame yourself for anything that’s happened.”
She inhales sharply and gathers herself. “If we can’t—”