Chapter 61
Mercy is as brutal as its knights.
The walls become perfectly smooth, all cracks plastered over. Sconces in the shape of dragons’ maws illuminate the passageways. The Etherlight-fueled lighting casts an eerie glow on just how barren it all is.
I’m taken to a cage similar to the ones that were in the basement of the monastery, in that it’s a metal cube of bars in the center of a room—this way, inquisitors can surround me on all sides. The cage door is open and waiting when I arrive.
“Get in.” The prelate shoves me harder than necessary. I was already stepping forward. She slams the door shut behind me with a deafening finality. The minute the bars encase me, I taste bile in the back of my throat.
Don’t lock me in here. Don’t lock me in here. Don’t… I want to beg, over and over, but I force myself to maintain composure. I will not give them, or the vicar by proxy, the satisfaction.
“Do I need to worry about people torturing me while I’m inside this cage?” I turn to face her, trying to hide how my chest feels tighter with every ragged breath.
Her lips curl into a wicked smirk. “You’ll take whatever comes your way, traitor.”
“That’s for the vicar to decide,” I counter, not letting the word hit me the way she wants. “And last I heard, I was still ‘Valor Reborn.’”
The prelate tilts her head to the side. Her voice drops. “Only as long as that’s useful to him.”
I’m reminded of what Father said. It almost…sounds like a warning? But not from the prelate. Surely not.
“Don’t worry, Isola. You’ll be dealt with soon enough.” The prelate steps back and turns. Three inquisitors follow her out, and three remain.
No…not inquisitors. Not here. These are fully trained, veteran Mercy Knights.
The way they hold the crossbows is different from any of the inquisitors I’ve seen.
Their stances only suggest that they are relaxed.
I’m in a room with hardened killers, and it feels more dangerous than being face-to-face with a dragon.
Sitting in the center of my cage, I wait and focus on controlling my breathing and my wild, racing thoughts. The air is thick. Choking. What is going to come, will come, I remind myself. Panic won’t suit. If anything, it will be used against me as a sign I’m dragon cursed.
I have one more night to wait, and then this is all over. Then I’m deemed a citizen, whether traitor or not. I will see Lucan and Saipha again and—
My thoughts halt.
Oh, Saipha, you were so close… Her memory has my eyes stinging.
You promised me, Isola, I can almost hear her say from beyond.
I promised I would stay with her, and I failed her. If she’d gone through the door, maybe she would’ve never transformed. She would’ve felt safe, and been fed, and it would’ve bought us time. Maybe I would have found a way to mitigate the curse, like Mum’s tinctures.
I could’ve helped her. Never have I been more sure of anything in my life.
Mum’s research, my own abilities, somehow.
I would’ve somehow gained more knowledge of the power within me, if it’s even helpful at all.
The thought is heavy in my chest, so heavy it nearly breaks me as much as it sets my blood to boiling—like a hot ball of molten iron.
I could’ve helped her if this city hadn’t stopped me.
I force her from my thoughts. I can’t fall apart. Not now. Not here. One day, I’ll cry for Father and for Saipha. But today is not that day.
So, instead, I focus on intentionally making my mind as empty as possible.
Anything else can wait until I’m free of this predicament…
If I’m ever free. No, focus, Isola. There will be a path out.
I just need to find it. But it’s hard to imagine my path to freedom when I’m trapped in a cage inside a locked room where knights stand guard, with who knows how many more knights on the other side of the door, in a whole tower of knights.
A sconce on the wall by the door changes colors, momentarily breaking my focus. The knights at the perimeter of the room march to the door, each one falling in line and lockstep. The door opens, and three new knights march past them, taking their slots as the old leave.
None of them say anything. I almost wish they would and break me from these endless thoughts.
I hang my head, balling my hands into fists and fighting a scream.
How did it end up like this? Saipha and I were supposed to go to Mercy.
I was going to find a way to help people.
I’d learn things outside the wall for Mum. Father…
Father should still be here. My jaw pops as I grit my teeth.
The day drags on, with two more changeovers in my guard the only thing to break the monotony.
I keep my head down and guide my thoughts toward what will come next.
Tomorrow, they will convene the high curates and vicar to examine my actions, I suspect, probably here in Mercy.
I’m already planning what I might say. Already sketching out my case in my mind that will speak to all the things I know the vicar wants to hear.
Make it through tomorrow, and I’m free. Sort of. Mercy will be its own confinement. And I’ll still be right in the vicar’s hands. But then he’ll never suspect me. I will have justice for Father and Saipha.
I’m so focused on my scheming that when the lights in the room flicker, dimming just for a breath before going back to normal, I think I imagined it. Then, all three knights move, racing toward the cage. I leap to my feet.
Two knights move toward the cage door. There’s a jingle of keys in one of their hands. I back away, sinking into a crouch, ready to attack.
The third knight throws off his crimson hood, and our gazes lock as the door swings open.
“Lucan?” I breathe in confusion and relief. “How…”
“We’re getting you out of here,” he says calmly.
“How are you here?” I manage to ask. Even if knights invited him to be a page, that wouldn’t begin until tomorrow—at the earliest. Saipha’s older sister didn’t start her duties as a page until four days after her Tribunal.
Which, in retrospect, should’ve been a hint for us as to the extremes we might be pushed to.
But it’s easy to gloss over the bad when you’re just a girl with big dreams or bigger fears.
“We sneaked in,” Lucan answers.
“We?” I repeat. He keeps using that word. None of this is making any sense.
The one holding open the cage door lifts her head, and I recognize her as one of the twins who joined the Tribunal late. Something about them is different. They still have the same bruises, of course. But they’re standing…taller. More confident. Like it was all an act.
“I’m Myla, and this”—she nods to her twin—“is Ember. Good to see you.”
“Is it?” Ember mutters to her twin, lowering her hood as well.
I’m not sure if I’m more shocked that these are more words than I’ve ever heard them say in the monastery, or by the fact they’re here. Definitely the latter. I look between them. “You three have been here for over an hour, and you’re just now saying something?”
“It wasn’t safe before,” Lucan says. “We had to wait for the signal.”
The signal must’ve been the flickering of the lights. Someone must’ve manipulated the artificer sigil that powers the lights. But whoever did it would have to possess an intimate knowledge of Mercy and a confident hand with sigils.
“It’s not really safe, even now.” Lucan steps inside the cage. “We need to move quickly. The Mercy Knights will be called to prayer soon before the night’s patrols. That’s our only chance.”
Prayer seems an obvious thing that would be done, but the inner workings and schedules of Mercy are a secret to all beyond. Not even Saipha knew. “How do you know that?”
“We have help on the inside.”
We. There it is again. Him and who else? Only the twins from the Undercrust? I shake my head slowly.
Lucan must mistake the movement for refusing his offer of freedom. “We’re getting you out, Isola.”
“You planned this,” I whisper, staring at him and only him even as I gesture to Myla and Ember. “How?”
“We’re ashborn, from beyond the wall,” Myla answers. “So is Dazni.”
I shake my head again. Harder this time.
There haven’t been ashborn in Vinguard in centuries, at least none we’ve known of, and yet…
I stare from one girl to the other. Ashborn are supposed to be monsters.
Half-dragon abominations that are one step from walking corpses, according to the sketches and descriptions by the Creed and vicar.
Or dead. But these girls are very much alive, and very normal looking.
They’re a walking contradiction that, despite myself, I couldn’t be more curious about.
“We have to go now,” Lucan says.
I stare at him, eyes wide, heart hammering. Lucan said he was made an orphan during that dragon attack. Did he lie to me?
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” I ask, but it comes out more like a statement. Somehow, I already know the answer, as impossible as it is. Lucan is ashborn, too.
His silence screams the truth.
I laugh bitterly. Why is it that, out of everything today, this is what makes tears well in my eyes? But I refuse to let them fall. Not for his lies.
“You played me,” I whisper.
The remark is so sharp, he leans back as if I’ve slapped him. “Isola, please—”
“You’ve clearly been working with them a long time. You lied to me. Over and over. Even as I gave you my secrets.” My words are level and as cold as a Mercy dagger.
“Is she always like this?” Ember asks dully.
Lucan gives her a sharp look.
What? she mouths in reply and shrugs.
But I don’t take my eyes off Lucan. I study him the whole exchange so that when his gaze returns to mine, I search his eyes for a scrap of the man I thought I knew. But there’s something…different. It’s like I’m seeing him for the first time.
“What was I supposed to tell you?” he whispers, clearly at a loss.
“I told you everything, Lucan, everything. My hopes, my fears, my treason. And you couldn’t trust me with just one of your secrets that really mattered.”
He opens his mouth to speak again but stiffens as somewhere beyond the main door of the room, a low chime sounds. I can only imagine this is the call to prayer as Myla and Ember shoot glances at the door.
“We have to leave,” Lucan says. “We’re not getting a second chance.”
“And where would we go?” I ask. “Vinguard is controlled by the Creed, and the Mercy Knights will kill us on sight. There’s nowhere to hide.” Yet, even as I say it, I think of what Father said about Mum going missing. If the vicar had found her, he would’ve gone out of his way to tell me.
I hate that Lucan still knows me well enough to read my thoughts, because he says, “We’re going out of the wall. Your mum is waiting.”
Mum. “She’s waiting? Outside the wall?” The words are soft, barely a whisper.
“We got her out to keep her safe.” Lucan takes a small step closer, and the only reason I allow it is the thought of Mum. “We’re going to bring you to her, Isola. We’re going to keep you safe, too.”
Safe. The one word I’ve grown to associate with Lucan comes back. The knot of distrust eases some.
“If you stay, they’re going to do far worse than kill you,” Ember cautions. I give her a wary look. But she turns to Lucan. “Prayer isn’t that long. We need to go.”
“Vicar Darius is planning on taking your power—” Lucan starts.
“I know,” I interrupt. “My father told me. But clearly you could’ve warned me, too.” Anger flares back through me with quickening heartbeats.
“I couldn’t risk telling you earlier.”
“And now seems like a good time?” I gesture at the iron bars.
“Now is the only time—our one chance to leave. You might not like me right now…” He fights a wince as he speaks, and I fight the urge to correct him.
“But I’m the best shot you have at getting out of Vinguard.
” When I say nothing, he continues. “At least stick with us long enough to get out of this place. Once we’re out, I’ll tell you everything.
You can speak with your mum and make your choice then. ”
I can do that much… Mum is beyond the wall. The truth is beyond the wall. And the only thing that’s here is a madman vicar who wants to take my power for himself.
Right as I open my mouth to agree, the door opens and a hooded figure steps in.
“Why are you all still here? Is she giving you trouble?” The prelate. My blood turns cold. But she doesn’t move or raise an alarm. Which means…
She’s in on this.
“Yes,” Myla answers.
“A bit,” Ember adds.
“Not yet,” Lucan says firmly over them both, eyes still locked with mine. “She’s fine.”
“Then let’s get on our way. The Mercy Knights are all in the prayer service.
Dazni’s keeping a lookout in case it ends early or anyone leaves unexpectedly.
” The prelate’s tone has completely shifted.
She approaches slowly, lowering her hood.
As she comes to a stop by Lucan, I notice something I haven’t before, and I gasp.
Maybe I was willfully ignorant. Maybe the notion was too outlandish to really consider.
Probably it was that I never really saw her face fully, in proper lighting.
But there’s a familiar hollowing of her cheeks. An almost identical shape in her brow as the man standing before me. A similar shading in her hair. The familial resemblance is undeniable.
It can’t be… My mind rejects what’s right before my eyes. As I behold her, her gold eye fades from existence. Some kind of illusion. I wasn’t wrong about what I saw in the Font.
“What in the dragon-burned hells is going on…” I whisper, looking between her and Lucan.
“Lucan, now,” she presses. “Make her move, or I will.”
“None of you are ‘making me’ do anything.” I take a step forward and give Lucan a pointed look, one in which I try to convey that I’m done with his secrets and scheming. Then I stride past him, as if he’s of no concern to me. As if a part of me doesn’t want to reach out and grab him.
I look back at the four of them, my hand on the door. “I’m getting out of this city.”