Chapter 46
“What the fuck is she doing here?”
“Good to see you too, Taison,” I snarked and wove through the gathering.
Vera led me to an old table set at the center of the room, covered in aged parchment—a map. Black ink marked the makings of the castle, though many hidden passages and rooms were left undiscovered.
Within the castle crypts, I was surrounded by many familiar faces. I slowly turned where I stood, overwhelmed with peace that so many of the Chosen survived the guild’s downfall. That, even though many awaited death’s row, even more stood free.
“Vera, she should not be here.” Taison glared at me. He stood as a hulk of muscle at the other side of the table, though he was somewhat thinner than the last time I’d seen him. Torchlight caught his chipped tooth and cast shadows on his face, highlighting the dirt coating his scowl and black hairs. His grey clothes were ragged and stained with grime and blood. A new scar nicked his lips.
“She should be here,” Vera countered.
“She has sworn her oath to the gods, and she is here to help us.”
I held my tongue. This seemed more like a lover’s quarrel.
“For now, she is,” Taison griped.
“After this, she’ll go on fucking another lord.”
“Rhoswen has always come back to the guild, Taison,” another defended.
“She has always been faithful.”
A foul laugh concaved his chest.
“You didn’t see her in Hollow Spire, swooned by the lord’s son.”
Taison struck a chord. I piped.
“Percy was helping the elves, Taison. He defied his father.”
The corners of his lips lifted.
“See? Look at her, defending the damned.” He leaned against the table, the wood bending, and sank his teeth into a snarl.
“Vera told me all about this rumor. You didn’t know Percival was allegedly helping elves until after his death. I saw your face when I killed him.” He mocked me with a high pitch that lowered with each word, “Oh no, my poor lover is dead! Even though I was tasked with killing that damn idiot!” Fist to the table, he addressed all. “Someone who falls for the enemy should not be here!”
Vera’s curls tossed with her words.
“Gods, Taison, she’s already here. She is trusted by the lords, and she is the only one of us that Deception has chosen. She is a weapon, and you’d be stupid to send her away.”
Taison grumbled.
“I doubt Deception even watches over her anymore. If the god knew what Rhoswen has been up to, of the damn men she has fallen for, he would rip away her blessings and leave her to die.”
The statement stung like a hornet, and Deceit’s low hiss did not help.
“Are there any others of us that are trusted by the lords?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Shut your damn trap!” Taison roared, and I wiped his spit from my cheek with a glower.
Vera’s eyes cut across the table.
“Taison, stop it,” she yelled.
“She will be the end of us, Vera. She will crawl back to the enemy and ruin our chances of saving our brothers and sisters.”
“By the gods.” Vera stepped away from me and joined Taison. Her hand rested on his back, and his glare shot from me to her. She looked at him softly.
“Please, for me. Trust her for me.”
“You are being stupid, Vera.”
A lopsided smile struck Vera’s lips.
“Oh, darling.” She brushed the strands off her face.
“I thought you might say that.”
Before Taison could set distance between them, Vera pressed her lips against his.
Taison shot himself up then stumbled where he stood, losing balance.
“You bitch,” he grunted and fought to stay awake with manic blinks, but Slumber silenced his words and halted his movement. With a loud thud, Taison fell onto the stone ground with horrendous snores tearing up his throat.
“Poor, sod.” Vera looked down at Taison with a frown. She raised her gaze and shrugged her shoulders at us as we stared.
“What? He’ll be fine. I’ll catch him up later.” She leaped over him.
“But for now, let’s fill in Rhoswen. Who, I’m sure, the rest of us are glad to see, yes?”
Many nodded, some held still, and one stepped towards me.
He was a young man, not past sixteen. Beneath pale skin, I saw a netting of green-tinted veins under his eyes, and the same green had sunken to his lips. He looked sick, on the verge of meeting the gods.
Reaching out his hand, I hesitated, afraid I might break his fingers at the touch.
“Don’t worry, I’m stronger than I look.” Smile lines formed over his shallow cheeks.
I accepted his hand.
“I am Kieran,” he said with enthusiasm, smile intact.
“And, based on your wide eyes, I’m guessing you are wondering about my appearance?”
“I’m sorry,” I relaxed my features.
“I do not mean to be rude, but are you all right?”
“Better than all right. I have been chosen.” A brightness echoed in his eyes.
“Near death, I was, but—as I breathed my last breath—a god pushed the air back in my lungs.”
“This lot is new to us,” Vera said with a chirp.
“He’s been chosen by the God of Plague.”
“Plague?” I asked. A shred of discomfort settled in my stomach, though I could not condemn him for who he served. Not many took comfort in knowing who I served, either.
“Yes!” Keiran cried with a grin.
“I was plagued, suffering disease in the rough of southern winter. My mother and father had already mourned my death and dug my grave. In my final moment in this realm, the God of Plague forced new life into me.” His smile widened.
“I can see it now—the plague of humanity like stains on clothes.”
“Is that the power the god gives you?” I asked in bewilderment.
Since the war began, no other gods had granted their blessings.
“No, I don’t really know why I can see the plagues of man. I think it is like a glass that Plague allows me see through. Maybe seeing what he can see. But, I can also give ailments to men through the touch of my hand.”
My breath hitched. I looked at my hand that had touched his.
Keiran laughed.
“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Many have spoken of your devotion to the guild since you were young. Younger than most. And, as Vera said, someone who can change faces is a great weapon.”
I did not care to be called a weapon, though I could not deny it all the same.
“Can you show me?” Keiran asked without boyish joy in his eyes.
“Show you what?”
“Sorry, your blessing.” Scarlet tacked his cheeks. His hand played shyly with the hairs at the back of his head, thin ligaments flexing beneath his skin.
“I had never met someone who serves the gods until just a few weeks ago, when the guild found me. It’s all still exciting, I suppose.”
All eyes were upon me, beyond twenty pairs.
“Oh, go on, love,” Vera spurred.
“Show the kid what you can do.”
I offered a crooked grin of reluctance, and Taison’s snores disturbed any silence that may have been.
I considered a face, many faces, though I chose one I had yet to replicate.
Using my powers for the acts of entertainment? Deceit lingered in the dark.
My skin began to burn. The hairs upon my head were plucked away, and caramel ones stabbed through my scalp. Others spoke in hushed voices. For only a moment, I was deformed before becoming someone new. My eyes were dipped in forest green, my stature stretched and muscles grew, and, within two blinks, I had become the young prince of Andrael.
A fox smile stayed on my lips, nestled beneath my pinched nose.
“By the gods!” Keiran laughed with far more strength than I would have given him credit for.
“The prince is in a gown!” Tears began to form in his eyes.
“Gods, that is the best show I’ve ever seen!”
Deceit hissed. My deception is not a show!
Looking down, I gave my own laugh. Evandor’s calves and ankles showed below the hem and stretched these servant linens in odd ways.
“Amazing. I had never seen her change,” one whispered from behind.
“Deception ought to choose more with that blessing,” another uttered.
“We could finally end the war.”
Deceit’s swelling pride pressed against my skull. But, just as the god bathed in praise, he twitched, shrank, and crept further into the dark, seemingly to shut out the others.
A piece of me wanted to reach out and ask if he was all right, but such seemed inappropriate to ask a deity. He fumed like a kettle over dying embers—near a boil, but never to scream.
“Now that we all understand just how irreplaceable my sister is, unlike some—” Vera sent her gaze down to Taison, smiling to herself—devotion in her eyes—as he grunted a snore.
My skin snapped. Keiran startled and took an abrupt step backwards.
“We need to determine our attack,” Vera continued.
“And, with Rhoswen here now, she can help us understand how many guards will be there, what passageways we should take, and when we should strike.”
“Strike?” Blood filled my ears.
“You mean to attack the castle?”
“This is our only opportunity to save those captured.” Another woman stepped forward. I recognized the Feytra, though we had never been introduced. Her finger pressed against the courtyard on the map.
“This is where the king will be performing the executions. There is to be a feast,” her finger dragged to the dining hall.
“then all will join in the courtyard after sunset.”
Vera added.
“Rhoswen, the executions are happening tomorrow.”
“Yes, I know. I—” I thought of Gwendolyne telling me not to save them. To leave them to die at my father’s guillotine as sacrifices, so Sight’s prophecy might be fulfilled. My fists clenched.
“What is it?” Vera asked.
Again, everyone’s eyes were on me.
“We cannot do this. We… We’ve lost so many, and—” My words ceased. I was unsure how much I should say.
What Sight foresaw held information too sensitive for my comfort. For my safety.
Vera’s jaw looked unhinged.
“Rhoswen, we need to do this. Whatever the risks are, we must try.”
Deceit, what do I say?
He remained quiet, uninterested in my qualms.
I admitted with hesitance.
“I spoke with Gwendolyne tonight.”
Gasps broke through the gathering.
“You spoke to Gwendolyne?” A slender woman approached, her yellow hair skimming the stone ground. Her silken gown was far beyond repair—burned, stained, and torn. Gold markings embellished her skin, but they were tarnished. Though still, even through weeks of strife, the Gem was effortlessly breathtaking.
A crystal tear wetted her lashes.
“I did, yes. In the prisons.” I bowed my head, concealing the pain and frustrations that tensed my brow and pinched the edges of my eyes. Slowly, I breathed, relaxed, and lifted my face.
“I went to the prisons to attempt to rescue them, but Gwendolyne told me to leave. She sent me away, claiming Sight had a vision that the end of days was approaching, and…” I fought to get the words out.
“It all began with their deaths.”
“What?” The Gem’s voice cracked.
“The end of the war? Of Shadows? That cannot be true.”
Tears tightened my throat.
“Wylie was there. He serves the God of Sight. He confirmed her words while under Sight’s spell.”
“I do not believe it,” another stepped forward. A woman of massive stature, bearing redlit eyes—Moria, a Bloodletter.
“Why would Sight claim others need to die to bring the end of the war?”
A new crown will rise from the ashes of their deaths, Deceit whispered in the hollow.
“Maybe Taison was right,” a man called.
“Maybe we shouldn’t trust her. All other Chosen fled the lords’ estates when the guild fell. All except for her. What if her allegiance is no longer to the gods?”
Moira cracked her neck and flexed her shoulders, shifting a hammer at her back. A hammer that was taller than I.
“Maybe, now that she’s here, we’re in more danger than we were before.”
Moira stepped forward. I stepped back.
“Moira, be calm,” the Gem said, stroking Moira’s muscle-laced arm.
“These times do not allow for calm.” Moira threw her glare from me to the Gem.
“You serve Carnage and Wisdom. We must be wise,” the Gem hushed.
Moira widened her nostrils in a huff.
Whispered continued to prowl.
Vera leaped atop Taison, using his body as a stepping stool.
“Look,” she marked us all.
“I know Rhoswen better than any of you, and I know where her heart truly is. She is on the side of the gods.”
“Love makes us blind, Vera,” Moira said plainly.
“And your love for her would not allow you to see the truth. We need to be mindful of those we let into our trust.”
Another called out.
“Moira’s right! You two have been inseparable since joining the guild.”
Vera stomped her foot on Taison’s chest.
“Yes, inseparable, so I would know!”
“Who’s to say she won’t betray us?”
“Oh, shut it, Payne,” Vera yelled.
Moira and the Gem began to argue with tight scowls.
“Wait,” Keiran meekly uttered at my side.
“This is not right.”
“She shouldn’t be here,” another shouted.
“She does not want us to save our own!”
Deceit? The tension scared me. These were my brother and sisters, and my faith was being questioned.
I wanted the god to speak to me, to tell me what to say.
“But what if Rhoswen is right?” Another asked.
“What if the war shifts after the executions? We are losing.”
“But their deaths will not allow us to win!” Creases lined Moira’s thin lips.
“We need everyone alive.”
“This is not right.” Keiran’s voice grew.
“This is not right!” He cried and leaped onto the table. His thin limbs wailed.
“This is not right!” He shouted again, outmatching all others. “We are family, are we not? We are all here to see the end of the Shadows.” He gathered a quick breath, and the rows of his ribcage stretched out his tunic. “Why do we fight as though Rhoswen is a Shadow herself?”
Vera gave me a knowing look—she hadn’t told anyone I’d been marked.
“We are all on the same side, and if she says that Sight had a vision, I believe her.” The sick-looking man motioned towards me with green veins illuminating beneath his reddened cheeks.
“She stayed in the lord’s estate after the guild fell, but that does not mark her an enemy. From what I have heard, Rhoswen came all the way to Sariem for her sister. She searched for Vera in the city the night the guild fell and rescued her.” He pointed to the crowd.
“Someone who would do that is not an enemy. She is a hero.”
Blush crawled on my cheeks. The room fell silent.
“Come on, kid, get down.” Vera grabbed his wrist and helped Keiran off the table.
“He’s not wrong,” Vera said as she shifted her weight on Taison’s chest.
Taison gave a grizzly grunt.
“She saved me when the guild fell and took me back to the Raven Estate. While she and I were together, we plotted as we always had. And, now in the castle, she tried to save our brothers and sisters. Not quite what I would call an enemy, would you?”
“I nearly forgot what house she was tasked with,” Moira uttered with wicked blood painting her eyes.
“The Raven divides the elves from freedom. If we kill him, the elves could take over the West and shift the scales of the war. The elves would join our cause.”
I hid the red in my face beneath Deceit’s magic. Vera looked at me with a contortion of fear and care in her eyes.
I wished to turn my breath sour and speak persuasion over these people. To let the tongue of my god convince the Chosen that there was something more to Alistair. But, with the magic of other gods beating in this place, I could not chance using my own. And, as my allegiance was questioned, I knew the risk was too great.
“Can you help us?” Moira’s red eyes were fixed upon me.
“Can you help us save our brothers and sisters? If what you say of Sight’s vision is true, then let us die with the rest of them. I could not live with myself knowing I never tried.”
“I stand with Moira,” the Feytra called.
“It is better to try and die than live knowing we did not defend our own.” She lifted her hand, a ball of fire cradled in her palm.
“And, should my end come,” she spoke to the flame. “It will come with fire.”
“I am with you,” another called.
“I will stand beside our people!”
A consensus strung through the room.
As all fell silent, the Gem with yellow hair began to hum a cradlesong. It was a song of the gods and their peoples’ devotion to bring the immortals’ desires into the realm. To uphold peace, even if death was imminent. To defend, even if all else seemed lost. To hope, even when unable to see through darkness.
A crystal tear slipped from her lashes and shattered upon the ground.
The Gem came to my side and held my arm with her delicate fingers.
“Will you help us, Rhoswen?” she asked.
“Will you stand by your brothers and sisters?”
“Yes,” I said with certainty, looking at the surviving guild.
“I am with you. Until the end.”
The end will come, Deceit harked. The end always comes.