Chapter 21 #3
“Auranius’ lair, yes.” I’m sick of pretending, sick even of stuffing it all inside me, keeping it to myself.
“Where he eats people. They don’t even have the dignity of a shroud, nothing.
They’re sent naked to that place, where fetid, putrid bodies linger.
Feet, hands, hair. The acolytes don’t even wait for the bodies to cool, don’t even give them the dignity of a prayer.
It’s horrific. Is that what we are? Food for Auranius? ”
Mallor takes a deep breath and sits down again. “Yes. Yes, Mayara.”
Yes? That’s it, then? A sob escapes my lips. “Why? They don’t deserve it. Celine was kind, studious, she loved our kingdom… Why?”
His eyes contract, sadness and worry marring them.
“It’s what Auranius eats, what he needs to grow that big, to live that long.
Young people, preferably. Not children; they wouldn’t sustain him, but young people, between eighteen and thirty, let’s say.
He prefers them warm, yes.” He swallows.
“In fact, ideally, he prefers them… alive.”
I feel like puking, as I remember Cynthia’s friend. “Are they at least sedated, something?”
“I assume so, or they’d scream on their way up.
Are they still sedated when Auranius finally gets to them?
I don’t know. I’m not privy to the acolytes’ secrets.
Nobody really is, in fact. Do you know how they recruit acolytes?
” He doesn’t wait for my reply and continues, “Illiterate men, sometimes petty criminals, with no living relatives. They first double check that they truly can’t read or write.
Once they’re hired, their tongues are cut.
That’s their vow of silence. To be fair, at least they’re informed in advance, and accept the price. ”
“Why?”
“Have you taken a look at our kingdom? At its poverty? Desperation? Ships with gold and precious stones dock here, while our people starve. A famished man will give up his tongue.”
My stomach revolves and my head spins.
He leans forward, his eyes fixed on me. “You think that’s all? The rot runs deep in the kingdom. Do you know how recruits or sentinels are selected to fly when the attacks happen?”
As far as I know, local commanders pick names at random, so it depends on luck, but I’m imagining there’s more to it. “How?”
“Random luck.” His voice drips with sarcasm.
“Except it’s not random. It’s either sticks, but they know which ones are marked at the bottom, or pebbles, or any other way that lets them decide who gets to stay safe and who gets to jump.
Sentinels will find themselves trading favors for safety.
All kinds of favors, Mayara. They might also be forced to provide services, or else their name will be next. ”
I swallow, unwilling to even picture the horrors the sentinels go through.
Mallor taps on the table. “There’s also an abundance of star nectar in the outposts, ensuring recruits are numb, complacent, and docile.
Now, I don’t have any say in the Sky Guard and cannot control any of that.
I can’t even stop the star nectar parties happening among recruits.
All I can do is try to dissuade some of them from staying here, get them expelled when I can, and yet most people have nothing else to turn to.
But you don’t need to remain in this rot.
Why did you even insist on joining this place? ”
“It’s not like any of that’s public knowledge.”
“Of course not. Anyone spreading such rumors will find themselves taken to Auranius’ lair—hopefully already dead.
Now you, you’ve seen far too much. If anyone even suspects you know what you know, your life will be in danger.
Whatever happens, whatever you choose, don’t ever mention a word of what I told you, a word of what you saw, not even to your best friend.
You can’t guarantee they won’t tell it to their friend or even lover in a night of stupor. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Does Alayel know?”
“No idea. You might want to confide in him now, and yet the moment you quarrel, and it will happen, because it always happens, he will betray you. Or threaten you. That said, I’m sure he could kill you now, if he wanted—and would face no consequence.
Why did you get involved with that prince, Mayara?
I warned you he wasn’t trustworthy. Perhaps I should never have asked you to investigate him.
I thought you’d open your eyes to who he is, but it clearly didn’t happen. ”
I don’t think Mallor is being fair, and I want to defend my choice. “We like each other.”
He lets out a bitter chuckle. “That boy only loves himself. It’s clear as day. You might like him, and he might have convinced you he likes you, but it doesn’t make it true.”
“We’re betrothed.”
“Don’t be naive. Do you really think the prince who didn’t even invite you for his coronation ball wants to take you as a wife?” The mockery in his tone manages to stir anger within my numb chest. Plus, his words are absurd.
“He did invite me. He even sent me a dress.”
Mallor scoffs and shakes his head. “I sent you both dresses, and the first invitation.”
That doesn’t make any sense. “Why?”
“You think I was going to let that vile pretend prince humiliate my daughter?”
“What?” The word is a hollow echo as a cold, bottomless dread tears open my stomach.