Chapter 13
Margaryte jerked backward.
Her head and shoulders landed askew in the gently lapping water. Her hair floated across the water’s surface, swirling like kelp. She looked almost serene, a gruesome contrast to her hands, the thin fingers with broken nails spasming around the pebbles.
Even in death, refusing to relinquish her hold, she clutched at the stones. Audra’s mind stuttered, flinched, trying to process the violence she’d just witnessed.
Camyle choked on her next scream as she threw herself forward as if it weren’t too late to block the arrow with her own body. She fell on hands and knees beside Margaryte, her lips moving soundlessly. But Audra could see the word they traced, over and over again: Margaryte, Margaryte, Margaryte.
The soldier who had fired the arrow strode closer, but even the sound of his footsteps was not enough to call the woman to her senses. The soldier halted beside the priestess, nocking another arrow and waiting for her command.
Audra wanted to fight her way through the crowd, to drag Camyle out of harm’s way. Yet, despite her wishes, Audra found herself paralyzed by shock and horror.
The priestess’s eyes seemed to glow more violently as she studied the scene, unmoved. What did she care for mortal grief?
Camyle tilted her head up, spied the soldier, the nocked arrow, and her lips stilled.
Audra held her breath. Please, she cried out in her mind, do not cause any commotion!
As though she heard Audra’s silent pleas, Camyle relinquished Margaryte, folding her hands in her lap and bowing her head, silent now in her grief.
This was a place where grief would not be tolerated.
Camyle did not even stir when two sets of scaled hands parted the surface of the water and gripped Margaryte’s dress. The sound of her corpse being dragged through the rocks and chunks of ice made Audra shudder. She gritted her teeth so hard she was afraid they might crack.
Margaryte disappeared beneath the water; the only proof she was ever with them on the beach were the bloodied pebbles, the rippling surface of the lake, and Camyle, frozen, staring at the water, still as a marble pillar.
A few moments later, Camyle’s eyes fluttered closed as she muttered to herself. Audra didn’t have to hear her whispered plea to recognize Death’s prayer.
Death was the only god any human would ever pray to, for Death had never abandoned them; it was Death who would eventually come for them all.
Audra swallowed rising stomach acid, once, twice, again.
She reached out, feeling for Wilder’s hand. Wilder returned her squeeze as they shifted their clasped hands behind Audra’s skirts, lest the priestesses or the soldiers notice.
The priestess nodded, content with Camyle’s show of piety. She signaled to the soldier to stand down, before turning, floating back toward the treachery of priestesses.
Lord Khari, already returned to his dais, presided above them. “That was unfortunate. But you will come to learn that the Echoes will not abide the weak,” he said, and Audra clenched Wilder’s hand even harder. A mother’s love is not weakness.
“If you wish to endure the arduous training ahead, you must overcome such indulgences of your emotions.” He smiled, then, perhaps intending to put them at ease, but it held no warmth. “There isn’t time to dwell on others—prioritize your own strength, your own training, and you shall succeed.”
His smile tightened, making his face resemble famed Davell masks.
Audra knew that his words were meant to divide them, to encourage them to see themselves as individuals rather than as part of a collective, a community.
She knew, and yet it was only Wilder’s hand clasped with hers, hidden behind the fabric of their skirts, that helped to fortify her against his aims.
Rolling up his scroll, Khari clenched it in his fist.
“But I am getting ahead of myself. I shall hand you over to the Chorus of Echoes now.”
The priestess, back in her position at the front, scanned the crowd of terrified humans. It felt like a century as they waited.
Finally, she slowly, with much effort it seemed, raised an arm, allowing the long sleeve to pull back and reveal a decrepit hand, all stretched skin, pronounced tendon, and bone.
The priestess motioned once, silently beckoning the crowd to follow.
The Chorus turned as one, trailing back up the winding road.
Slowly, the humans, even Camyle, fell in step behind, avoiding the soldiers’ watching eyes.
The priestess had beckoned them to follow her just once and had not bothered to look back to check if they did.
It was the soldiers who watched for her, to see if any humans must be told more than once, their arrows nocked and ready.
For if any human needed to be told twice to follow a command, what good were they to the fae?
The humans followed like ghosts; the only sounds were their shuffling footsteps on the cobblestone road and the mournful cry of gulls and ravens circling overhead.
Whispers fell over the crowd as fae townsfolk, who had come down from their homes and stepped out of the shops to watch the procession, recited prayers to the Chorus of Echoes.
Their gaunt faces, filled with fervent desperation, made Audra almost as uncomfortable as the callous soldiers.
But thankfully, the village was small, and it wasn’t long before the twisting road left it entirely behind.
The boulders spearing up on either side of the grasslands became fewer, and the sparse trees more numerous, until they eventually arrived at the gaping maw of a forest. Gnarled, weathered trunks, smothered in lichen and mold like hoarfrost. This land …
It was wrong. Strangled by thorny briars, blackened and dead, the forest smelled of dampness, rot, and decay.
As the cold seeped further into their bones, they stumbled down the neglected path, avoiding the sharp branches of reaching trees, until all at once, there appeared an iron gate, trying desperately not to be ripped apart by strangling vines.
Audra winced and clenched her teeth against the screech as the trellised gate parted on protesting hinges.
Everything within her resisted the thought of entering through the gate, but one glance backward to where Camyle ambled along …
The woman, wraithlike, lost within herself, was now a living symbol of the consequences of being found unfit for whatever the fae intended for their captives.
A pit of sorrow swelled within Audra, but she was glad to see that two women had encircled Camyle, comforting and watching over her.
“Fuck, I’m not ready for whatever is on the other side of this,” muttered Wilder, her eyes narrowed on the open iron gate.
“At least we’re together,” said Cersha with a tremble in her voice that Audra felt in her soul.
“Aye. We stick together, for as long as we can,” said Callum.
“Together,” replied Audra, though she was thinking … what choice did they have if they were separated on the other side of this gate?
With small, hesitant steps, Audra crossed the iron threshold.