Chapter 11
Eleven
It was only when I returned to my cell, and the stones sealed themselves behind me, that I realized what I’d done.
I’d learned the first steps of his dance, but we hadn’t spoken of my problem.
The thought should have needled at me, kept me awake, but exhaustion took me.
For the first time in a long while, I slept deeply until the creak of iron woke me.
I sat up, disoriented, my hair falling in a frizzy cloud around my forehead and shoulders. I hated being seen like this, as though everything had been taken from me, my freedom, my dignity, my choice.
The hard face of Commander Tiberon appeared. He stepped back, swinging open the cell door as the keys rattled in the lock. Betta brushed past him, nodding at me. “Come, Gazelle, the terms have changed.”
I rose, keeping my eyes on him. “What’s changed? What will you do with me?”
He frowned. “In light of a second murder, done in the same manner, we doubt your involvement. Unless you have allies.” The pause he left was its own accusation.
“You will resume your duties dancing, but you will be escorted to and from your room and locked in at all times until we’ve arrested the culprit. ”
Hope bloomed and died in one breath. “So now you believe me.”
“Gazelle.” Betta’s reprimand was soft and immediate.
I understood it. She wanted me to be grateful, to scuttle out under his nose as though I were in the wrong, to thank him for giving me freedom and liberating me from the prison cell he’d locked me in.
I walked out, clutching my bundled clothes, the book buried inside them. I held my tongue as Betta led me up into the halls graced with light. She took mercy on me and led me straight to the pools, perfume rising with steam.
The Sacred Palace had been built around the natural pools.
There were two of them, heated, steam curling up from the rocks.
The stones had been kept, smoothed, with columns built around them and a low wall.
Most mornings, the mountain mist blocked the view, but today it was clear, showing off the staircase of the city.
Towers and steepled roofs crowded below.
Out of sight were the city square and other buildings. There were markets alive with buying and selling, a great blue lake that meandered through the valley before disappearing back into the mountains. Every spring it overflowed as the snow melted.
Past the city buildings were grassy hills, covered with vineyards and orchards. Beyond them the ring of mountains surrounded the city, both hemming us in and protecting us. The city received few visitors, and when we did, it was only those brave enough to venture out during the warm summer months.
“Soak,” Betta bade me. “I’ll have fresh clothing brought for you.”
“What about food?” I asked, hunger gnawing deep in my belly.
“I’ll have something sent with your clothes.”
Betta turned to go, but at the archway she paused and looked back, her dark eyes resting on me the way they had at the graveside, and again at the rift. Then she vanished into the corridor.
My vision blurred for a moment, and the scent of burned incense hovered.
I coughed, then turned to face the pools, surprised to see Verena was already soaking in the waters.
She must have known I would come. It was past time for the morning bath, prayers, and the early meal. She should be at practice, not here.
I stripped down, piling my clothes and blankets in a corner. I felt raw, filthy from my time in prison. And I still carried my secret with me: the time in the hollow world between stones, dancing with him through the night. As I slipped into the water, I wondered if I should tell her.
“What’s happening?” I asked, keeping my voice low even though we were alone.
“There’s been another death,” Verena explained, voice hollow. “A Vestal this time. I don’t recall her name, but she worked in the kitchens. The morning meal was late, and then the screams started. They found her there, blood mixing with the food. It was horrible.”
“You saw it?” My fingers went to my throat.
Verena nodded. “Now I understand the frozen horror you must have felt when you found Rift Mother. There were words written in blood and symbols everywhere.”
I reached for a bottle of oil and started working it into my skin. “What did the symbols look like?”
“An upside-down diamond with something round above it, pointed like spikes.” Her gaze flickered to me. “Why?”
“Similar to what I saw,” I murmured. The moon with thorns surrounding it could be described differently. “I think someone is doing this on purpose.”
“Of course they are. Killing us off. Sending a message. It’s the demons. Somehow they’ve found a way out, and the rift isn’t as secure as we believe.”
Fear curled through me. “But Maraid walked the chamber herself. She confirmed the seals held.”
Verena narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps she lied.”
I pressed my lips together. “That’s impossible—”
“Is it? That’s why I asked her to teach me. She seemed displeased by the very idea.”
“Because you insulted her.”
“Would you be insulted if you had to train someone else to take over as Lead Dancer?”
“I—” I trailed off, knowing I would be.
“But you shouldn’t be. It’s for the good of the city, for our protection. One person cannot be the keeper of it all, the single soul everyone relies on. What if something happens to her? What if she turns corrupt?”
A surge of anger went through me, and I slipped deeper into the water, frowning. “Where is this coming from?”
“What do you mean?”
“Corruption,” I snapped. “We are not a corrupt people. We’re honest. We love and protect each other. It’s why we live here in the Sacred Palace, to honor the gods, to invoke the magic to seal the rift—”
Verena waved her hand impatiently. “Don’t be a fool, Gazelle. That kind of thinking is probably why you were blamed for the first murder. Open your eyes.”
Fear cut through my anger. Was there something I’d missed? Something she knew all along? I’d been about to tell her about the Hollow King, but her tone made me bite back my words. Perhaps there was a way to learn what she knew without surrendering my secret.
In his kingdom, it was easy to agree to help the Hollow King.
Free again—my anger at those who’d caged me already cooling—the future crowded back in.
I could not condemn my people to the wrath of the Hollow Ones.
I could not leave him to his fate either.
And if both of those things were true, what in all the heavens was I supposed to do with that familiar connection I felt to him?
“My eyes are open, Verena. But I do not see as keenly as you. I know something is wrong, and I want to find who is behind it. Share your suspicions. I’ve seen the symbols, the words in blood. Someone wants to hurt us. My question is, why?”
“Perhaps someone is angry with us. Wants us punished. Wants us living in fear, the way they once did. Your family was attacked, and no one questioned the rift’s validity then—everyone assumed the seals held.
But what if they didn’t? What if there’s a loophole, a way to weaken it that we know nothing about? ”
I wanted to protest but decided to humor her instead. “Go on, then. If there is—what? We dance. We seal it.”
“Except we wait for the full moon. Three weeks away. What can be accomplished in three weeks, while we wait?”
“As in what can the demons accomplish?”
“Yes.”
“Verena, demons are wicked. They don’t need a motive to hurt us; it’s just what they do. These murders seem different, more calculated. Cruel.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Then what is your theory?”
I hadn’t formed one I dared say aloud. “A stranger? Someone new here. Someone with—as you said—a grudge.”
“A person? Not a demon? I find that unlikely.”
“As I find an open rift unlikely,” I quipped, but it was a lie. I was simply upset.
“Even though it has happened before?”
“Yes.”
Verena surged through the water and came up beside me.
Her fingers circled my wrist and held on tight.
“Gazelle. I know you made a mistake. You changed the dance. I don’t know why, but I saw it.
I wasn’t going to say anything, but I want you to know that I saw.
” Her grip didn’t ease. “Who are you working for? Why did you weaken the rift?”
My mouth went dry. I wanted to dig my nails into her shoulder and plead.
She was my best friend, surely she’d believe me.
“It was a mistake,” I heard myself say, as though the words arrived from somewhere outside my body.
“An honest mistake. I was dancing, and then—” I stopped, my hand pressed to my chest. I should not admit my weakness, not even to her.
“You’re getting weak,” Verena said scornfully.
“You should be honest about it. Your ability, or the lack of it, touches all of us. You’re the one damaging what we’ve built, undermining it with your weakness.
Dancing is about strength and sacrifice, not weakness or failure.
There can be no mistakes. The stakes are too high. ”
Panic crawled in through the weariness. She could take this to anyone, claiming I was unfit to dance.
I would lose my place, become a Vestal, and I wasn’t ready for that kind of servitude.
“It was a moment’s lapse. It won’t happen again.
” I closed my eyes, remembering what Commander Tiberon had said.
Was it Verena who had told him? “Who else did you tell?”
“No one.” A pause. “But now that you’re back, you’ll have to train a replacement. You know that.”
That knot returned to the pit of my belly. “You mean—train you?”
Verena pushed away from me. At first, I thought I’d angered her.
We’d never spoken of the competition, how I won, and she was set aside to dance among the multitude instead of alone, every eye upon her.
She was as respected as I was. The younger dancers looked to her.
She often led the practices and was good at it.
“That time is past,” she said. “I’m too old to dance the lead. No, someone younger, newer.”
“I’ll teach someone new,” I said, because it was what she wanted to hear.
“Good. We have practice tomorrow.”
“If this is my fault, I’ll never forgive myself,” I whispered.
“Then don’t let it be your fault,” Verena said, rising out of the water.
The steam closed around her, and she was gone.
I sat alone with the drip of water and an ache in my wrist. The far side of the pool lay smooth and still, no ripples.
When I turned, Betta stood in the archway.
I hadn’t heard her return. She looked at me, then past me to the empty water, and something crossed her face that I liked even less than suspicion. It was closer to pity.