Chapter 41
No one says anything. No one breathes.
Ears ringing from the cannon fire, none of us hears the buffet of massive wings as the remaining dragon retreats to fight another day.
The bells fall silent, in stark contrast to the cacophony that rattled the city.
The other supplicants slowly regain their footing.
Some are injured. All are shaken. None can bring themselves to look at the bodies of those claimed by the attack.
All eyes turn to me instead.
Their expressions are unreadable. Did they see my action as bold and brave?
I stare at the dagger still in my grip. Was it enough to make them think I had the capability to take down that dragon, and the Mercy Knights merely beat me to it?
Or do they all know now, beyond any doubt, that I am nothing more than a fraud?
I felt the Ether gather…but I didn’t unleash it.
Could they somehow know that part of me held back?
My hand falls limply, and the dagger clatters to the ground. The motion triggers Saipha, and she sprints over. Past her, I see Lucan shifting, a few steps forward, halting, then back. Our eyes meet.
What do you think of me? I want to ask of the man who looked so ready to slay a dragon. So filled with righteous fight. My throat has gone dry.
“Are you all right?” Saipha asks as she comes to a stop right before me. I can’t tell if she’s actually whispering or if my hearing is still muted from the cannon fire and the rush of blood from the surge of Etherlight.
“I’m fine.” I nod.
“What were you thinking?” she hisses.
“I wasn’t. I was acting on instinct,” I admit.
“Maybe it was the call of Valor in me.” The words are hollow even to my ears.
But something did possess me to step forward.
If not Valor, then what? Do I even know who I am anymore?
My mind feels like mashed potatoes, and I don’t think I can blame it entirely on the purple dragon.
“Armed with a dagger? Valor was brave, not stupid.” She shivers and grips herself, quickly getting it under control. “I feel like I’m going to be sick. Your recklessness made me sick. How dare you, Isola.”
“I’m sorry.” I give an apologetic smile at the touch of teasing she managed to add in at the last moment.
“That light…”
“You saw it, too, then?” So it wasn’t just my imagination? I stare at my palm.
“I saw it,” she says, and a million questions flood my mind.
But before we can say anything else, the inquisitors emerge from the door to the rooftop. It hangs a bit ajar now. The prelate is surrounded by the others.
“Let it be written that none of you have shown signs of the dragon curse,” she declares. “Now, inside with you all.”
There’s no talking amongst the supplicants as we’re shuffled back to the residence hall.
Saipha, Lucan, and I don’t even say a word to one another, readily falling into our normal rotation.
As I sit on the lockbox by the door during my shift, I decide then and there that I’m telling the other supplicants about the way into the kitchen in the morning.
This has gone too far for too long. Risks be damned.
They won’t say we’re all dragon cursed and kill us.
Would they?
The thought haunts me, and later in the night, sleep only comes for me out of overwhelming exhaustion. Even then, it’s restless and broken by memories of eyes like cold fire—eyes that felt like they looked into my very soul with something akin to recognition.
In the morning, we eat in our shared room in silence. I notice that Saipha’s hand still quivers from time to time, but I avoid pointing it out. None of us are fully recovered from the rooftop experience, and we’re processing the lingering terror in our own ways.
“I have something else for you, Saipha.” I finally have a chance to give her the honeycomb.
She unwraps it, and her whole face lights up. Her hands are steady, and the deep furrows in her brow relax. I didn’t realize how much older the stress was making her look until it’s gone.
“They had honeycomb?” she whispers in awe.
“Yeah, thought it was much more deserved in your belly than theirs.” And I’m further vindicated after what the prelate did.
“Do you want some?” She goes to break off a piece.
“I had some in the larder.”
I sense Lucan’s gaze on me, but when I glance at him, I don’t find the censure I expect. Instead, he looks almost…approving. “Enjoy it,” he tells Saipha with a small grin.
She takes a bite and lets out a soft sigh. “It feels like my birthday.”
“Happy birthday.” I nudge her with my shoulder.
Saipha snorts. “It’s not for, what, four more months?”
“Early birthday.”
We share a grin, and she finishes the honeycomb, chewing on it thoughtfully. For a quiet, peaceful second, it almost feels like we’re not in the Tribunal. Like we can breathe and just be three eighteen-year-olds sharing a little treat.
But it’s just an illusion, and the truth sneaks back in faster than any of us would like.
“Do you think one of the people who died was cursed?” Even though Saipha speaks softly, the question breaks the silence like shattering glass.
Lucan and I both turn to her. She licks off the last of the honey from her fingers, and with it, any sense of levity vanishes.
“No one transformed last night. And if someone was going to…surely that would’ve been it.
Right? What could push us more than that? ”
“Maybe…” I murmur.
“We were never able to find any leads on their sensor, even poking around here for weeks,” Saipha says.
“Sensor?” Lucan interjects.
We share a look, realizing we never told him. I take the opportunity to fill Lucan in on what we overheard back on our second night.
He frowns. “They know someone among us is cursed? No wonder they’re being so extreme.”
“But maybe the sensor wasn’t working properly from the start?” Saipha suggests optimistically.
“They seem convinced it was accurate.” And my father made it, I don’t say. But there is a slight, almost defensive edge to the thought.
“I’d like to think that the cursed supplicant died last night.” Her tone becomes wistful, almost dreamy. “And the rest of our time here can actually be enjoyed.”
A snap of Etherlight tickles the back of my neck. I sit straighter and fight a shiver.
“All supplicants are to report to the central atrium for the next test,” an inquisitor announces through the copper box.
For a breath, none of us move. We all stare at one another and then at nothing. They aren’t even going to wait a full day between the rooftop horror and the next test. Not even going to give any of us a proper meal first. Which must mean they think the cursed is still among us.
“Thanks again for getting us food.” Saipha stands, breaking my momentary panic.
“Isola did the hard work. I merely helped,” Lucan says, mentioning nothing of how I almost got us caught.
“We all played our part,” I say firmly. “We’re all surviving together.”
“Or not at all,” Saipha murmurs under her breath as she steps out the door.
Lucan and I share a look, but neither of us respond. Her being so defeatist is even jarring to him. Not even the honeycomb could get her back to her usual self. Hopefully after this test she’ll feel a bit more at ease.
We make our way down the stairs, trudging alongside the other supplicants.
Their gaunt cheeks and dragging of feet fill me with a pang of regret for not telling them about the larder last night or running to do it first thing this morning.
But there’s been such little time. An unnatural chill fills the air, fueled by their listless expressions.
Lucan slides into step beside me, his warmth helping ward away the uneasy cold.
He doesn’t even look my way as he does it, though, like he just knew.
It’s only about a minute after the last of us gather in the central atrium that the vicar appears. He moves through the inquisitors and supplicants, ascending to his balcony.
I wonder if he sees us as the husks we are now.
If he does, nothing in his expression suggests as much.
A slight smile quirks his lips, nearly impossible to see from where we stand.
The glint in his eyes is almost sinister.
He looks so satisfied to the casual observer. As though delighted by our pain.
I’m no casual observer.
A shiver rakes down my spine. He’s upset. I know it as well as I would if he were my father.
“Supplicants, you have done well to make it this far in your Tribunal. It bodes well for each of you to have reached this point, as we are now more than halfway through, and you are that much closer to being full citizens of Vinguard.” He grips the railing, leaning forward.
“Every moment of this Tribunal is a test—a test to ensure that a dragon cursed does not draw breath within the walls of Vinguard.
To know you may live without the fear of one day transforming and mindlessly killing all those you love.
In fact, you will become the last bastion against the scourge and the dragons.
Even those of you who will not enter Mercy will be part of the brigade—the family, the fortification, the people in arms that is Vinguard.
“And I know the journey to get there is hard. But remember, there is Valor in sacrifice. What you are enduring here is a noble pain.”
The manner in which the vicar speaks is almost like food for hungry stomachs. The supplicants stand a little taller, their eyes a little brighter, even though they still lack sustenance.
I have a different reaction. I feel the Ether surging violently through me at the vicar’s words. But I remain completely still.
They will do things to you in there…horrible things that should never be forgiven, and they’ll tell you it’s normal. Don’t let them win. Mum’s words come back to me yet again.
They starved us, then offered honeyed words in place of food. They have made us fearful, while presenting themselves as the only form of protection. They have shown us horror but have wrapped it in noble ideals so we don’t dare question why we were forced to endure it to begin with.
My hands are relaxed at my sides and heartbeat steady as I stare up at the vicar. I am just like one of the Tribunal’s dichotomies: looking the part of a dutiful supplicant, but filled with a quiet, brutal rage.
“Even though you might not often see me, I assure you, I am here with you, for all of you. I fight your fight, and I feel your pain.” The vicar sweeps his hand across the crowd.
“He has never known the pain of hunger,” Lucan mutters under his breath with an absolute gut-wrenching amount of loathing.
“We are one, in Vinguard,” the vicar continues. “We are united by our fight and by our connection with the Font. And today, as your second test of the Tribunal, that is precisely where you will go.”