Chapter 36
I hardly sleep that night. Every sound jolts me awake, alert and straining to hear if the shutter of my window is creaking open, or if the inquisitors are coming to interrogate me—if Mum was caught—but nothing of the sort happens.
Even though I barely managed a wink of sleep, I feel better than I have in weeks when I wake in the morning, thanks to the tincture.
Cindel wants nothing to do with me today at breakfast. Instead, she shoots daggers at the new kids. She’s clearly standing on the principle that they should’ve been put to death for suspicion of the curse. Selfishly, I’m a little happy to have her attention not on me for a while.
I eat with Lucan and Saipha, and we spend our day split between the library and training area. The three of us work quite well together. Better than I would’ve expected.
Two days crawl past.
Everyone grows a bit more on edge as the hours slip by. Probably because it seems…almost peaceful in a way that’s like the quiet before a storm. Like something bad is happening—gnawing at us—but we don’t realize what it is yet.
“What’s wrong with you?” Saipha asks on the fourth quiet afternoon. We’re in one of the training rooms with just Lucan.
“Nothing’s wrong with me.” It’s not the first time she’s asked.
Ever since my meeting with Mum, I feel like a “guilty by association” sign is plastered across my forehead.
I stride to the weapon rack to put space between us.
We came here to get away from everyone else more than to train, so I just stare at the array of blunt practice weapons.
“You’ve been broody and all-around…off,” she insists, following me.
“You’ve been more testy than normal, too,” I counter, not wanting to be prodded or examined.
“Maybe if you weren’t acting so weird.” Saipha folds her arms.
I look to Lucan for assistance.
He surprises me by coming to my aid. “You have been more testy, Saipha.”
“Rude.” Saipha narrows her eyes at him and selects a javelin from the rack. I think for a second she considers flinging it at him.
“And you have also been ‘off,’ Isola,” Lucan says, raising one brow at me.
“And you haven’t?” I fire back.
Lucan considers this much more thoughtfully than I expected.
“I suppose I have…” He stares at the corner of the room for a long minute.
“We’re all on edge. Let’s just keep doing what we can while we wait for the next challenge.
There’s only two to go, and then we’re done with the worst parts of the Tribunal. ”
Later that afternoon, there’s a small reprieve when we have a lecture from the head librarian of Vinguard. He runs a small association that’s dedicated to maintaining and recording the histories of the city on behalf of the Creed—the histories they let citizens read.
Better than the vicar.
He’s a short, balding man with ill-fitting robes that look like they’re an attempt at some sort of draped fashion but miss the mark. He prefers to pace the stage in front of the lectern, rather than stand behind it as he speaks.
“Every historical record we possess speaks of Valor’s skill with Etherlight.
Not only could he identify the locations of the Fonts—which he did when he settled Vinguard upon the deepest and most robust one remaining in the world—but he was also one of the last humans to possess the ability to wield Etherlight without sigils to focus the power. ”
“When, exactly, did humans lose the ability to use Etherlight directly?” Daisy asks.
“It’s difficult to pinpoint an exact time, as we have lost many recorded histories in tandem with the loss of our lands and the lives of our forefathers to the blights that assault us.
We know there were originally four Fonts with cities built upon them—one among the clouds, one in a vast sea, one deep within the earth, and Vinguard.
But the histories of the other three were lost with them.
” He totters and paces in the opposite direction.
“Based on this limited documentation, we have concluded that humans’ connection to Etherlight was disrupted as the scourge spread Ethershade and extinguished the other Fonts. ”
His attention lands on me, and I move uncomfortably in my seat.
Lucan shifts next to me, his hand sliding closer to mine.
He knows my discomfort when it comes to Valor.
He knew it well before the Tribunal. I once considered how well he knew me—how closely he paid attention—unnerving.
But now, it’s a surprising balm. I almost wish he’d reach for my hand because I know what the lecturer is going to say next before he says it, and I know it’s going to be targeted right at me.
“Before Valor left to battle the Elder Dragon, he swore that, should he fail, he would return to usher Vinguard into a bright new age. That there would come a day when the scourge would be banished and the Etherlight would flow to empower every citizen within our walls. But Valor didn’t return…
not until six years ago, when a human drew upon Etherlight without a sigil for the first time in centuries to slay a dragon.
A human who now possesses two golden eyes, as it is said Valor did. ”
Every set of eyes that turns to me is like a stone. Up and up they stack. When the lecture is over, I can barely walk from the weight. My shoulders are heavy, and my gut feels hollow. Like I’ve been worn out from the inside, crumbling in on myself.
…
The next morning is not like the rest.
Lucan pulls Saipha and me aside following breakfast. He shuts the door to the small study room on the second floor of the library and waits, clearly listening. Saipha and I remain silent, though we share a wary look. His caution has us both on edge.
“How do you two feel?” he asks as he eases away from the door. I assume he was listening for anyone walking nearby and heard no one.
“Fine.” I glance between him and Saipha.
“I’m all right.” She nods but somehow sounds like she wants to fight about it.
“Seems like a lot of nerves about someone overhearing just to ask us how we are.” I regard him skeptically.
He obliges my skepticism. “They’re starving us.”
“What are you talking about? They’ve been giving us the three normal meals a day.” Saipha’s tone is already annoyed. She wanted to go to the training grounds, again, to “hit something.” It’s the only thing that seems to keep her from snapping at us both these days.
“The frequency is the same, but the quantity is not. They’ve been gradually reducing portions every day since the first day, so it wasn’t obvious.”
Saipha places her fists on her hips with a huff. “If you don’t want to train today, you could’ve said so.”
“We should hear him out,” I counter.
“Maybe you can waste time, Isola, because you’re Valor Reborn, but some of us actually must work for what we have,” Saipha snaps. I open my mouth and then slowly shut it. Not about to let the conversation rise to a fever pitch.
The harshness of her words settles on her, and Saipha presses her palms down on the table in the study room, murmuring a soft, “Sorry.”
“He’s right.” I realize it for the both of us. The agitation. The empty feeling in the pit of my stomach that seems to never abate. I thought it was just guilt and nervousness.
“I know what hunger feels like.” Lucan leans against the wall. His gaze grows distant, as if he’s seeing straight through the present, back to a past that turns his usually brilliant eyes lackluster.
“What did the vicar do to you?” I whisper. What the vicar did to me in an attempt to achieve his ends is too fresh for me not to ask. I’ve only just begun to understand Lucan’s hatred for the man I thought was a father to him. Now I suspect the vicar was more of a captor.
“It doesn’t matter.” Lucan moves from the wall, pushing past us to stare out the window, as if physically changing his position can help him avoid the question. “All that matters is I’m very aware of how much I’m fed. Consider me an authority on it.”
“All right,” I say quickly. I’m inclined to believe him, and I don’t want to go in circles about it. Saipha seems content to agree as well. “So, what do we do? Start stockpiling and rationing?”
“I think it’s a solid plan,” Lucan says.
“We’ll take what we can at lunch.” I pick at my nails in thought. “Since that’s the time people can wander in and out of the refectory, we’ll be able to do it without drawing suspicion.”
“Fine with me,” Saipha says.
Lucan nods in agreement, then adds, “If they’re starving us, I’ll hunt for edible plants in the greenhouse. They’ll undoubtedly restrict access soon.”
“Good thinking.” The quick rise and fall of Saipha’s eyebrows indicates she’s impressed by the suggestion. An odd feeling of pride overcomes me, as though I’ve somehow done well by bringing him into our group.
We implement the plan immediately. Now that Lucan has pointed it out, I’m acutely aware that my plate at dinner is much lighter than it was the day we arrived.
The next morning, we linger after breakfast, going around and scraping up the last few bites left behind by others.
The inquisitors see us do this but say nothing, just like they see us skip eating our lunches in favor of saving them for later.
We stuff the flat loaf of bread, bag of dried mushrooms, and wedge of hard cheese we’re given under our shirts and make our way back to our rooms to seal them in the lockboxes at the feet of our beds.
Then we go straight to the greenhouse, where Lucan continues to impress as he guides us in what plants to pick.
“A few can be dried,” he says. “These are best fresh.” And those we eat first so we can have less breakfast or dinner on days when it’s a meal that will keep well if we save some.
By the time the rest of the supplicants begin to notice the diminishing food, we already have a decent stash put aside.