Chapter 17 #2
She watched the faceted jewels of the relic set the space alight with moving color, a wink of yellow catching her eye.
Hundreds of feet below on the cool marble tile, nobles bowed their heads in prayer to her.
Apart from the sphere, there was another statement piece that underscored Hearth’s priorities.
Embedded within the mosaic threshold of the castle entrance was gold-foiled glass tile arranged with lettering: By Blood and Bone, We are Bound.
Ksenia’s eyes traced over the lettering once more as Vuk and Pavel walked through it, bickering with each other on the best way to infiltrate the vault. She caught up to them past the threshold as the iron doors began to close behind her.
“What vault?”
Pavel turned to her with a sneer. “Gods, you’ve got to be kidding me. Everyone knows there’s a vault beneath Hearth’s church. Every thief would kill to crack it.”
Ksenia sneered back. “What evidence do you have that the missing earring is within that vault?”
He stopped in his tracks, pivoting to face her once more and clapping the back of his hand into his palm with each word. “Crown. Jewel.”
He turned on his heel. “Where else would they keep it but the most secure location within the castle?”
Ksenia shifted her weight onto one hip and shrugged. “Is it the most secure location if it’s widely known?”
He looked back at her, exasperated, before swinging his gaze to Vuk, eyebrows raised.
Vuk backed away, palms facing the pair. “You two figure it out. I’m just the brawn.”
With two days remaining in the challenge, Ksenia found herself walking across the covered stone bridge, slick with mist and spray from the waterfall.
By all accounts she had gleaned from the architectural drawings and books from Varka’s library, if there were an excellent place to build a vault, it would be beneath the church itself—encased in the solid stone.
Which was precisely where her feet were taking her.
She clutched her wax-wool cloak tightly about her, shivering against the spray of water. Her curiosity got the best of her as she leaned over the edge and peered down into the canyon.
The call of the void. She wondered absently what the mist would feel like if she fell, whether the roar would swallow her scream, whether anyone would be able to find her battered body.
“Senka, how I hoped our paths would cross again.”
Ksenia jerked back from the edge, her hand flying to Caromir at her hip.
“Careful, I only just found you again,” Chancellor Valdren mused, his paunchy face stretching his thick lips into a smile as he surveyed the edge. “Heading to the church as well, my dear?”
Ksenia squinted at the sapphire brooch gleaming on his chest before begrudgingly accepting his proffered arm.
“I have business with Archbishop Serafin myself…”
A saccharine smile graced her face as he led them toward the church entrance. The smell of his cologne made her eyes water, as if he had applied it with such enthusiasm she could taste the ambergris and camphor.
The chapel’s three-storied interior glowed warmly in contrast to the dark granite exterior.
Its beige marble walls were polished to a subtle sheen that caught the firelight from the braziers, and arched windows soared and punctuated the wall, diffusing daylight with a glow.
Stationed between them were white-marble statues depicting The Six—gods of origin who had existed before kingdoms. Their likenesses towered over the churchgoers, with hollow yet watchful eyes.
As Valdren and Ksenia passed the threshold, she yanked her arm away from him with a small smile, but he caught the crook of her elbow with his bloated hand.
“I will say, I’m thrilled to see you at court finally…If surprised by your position. What does Bohdan think of this?”
Her face mottled red, her eyes cold and hard for a moment before she adopted a thin smile. “Bohdan understands, of course. We have an amicable, platonic relationship. He knows how important it is for me to be amongst the court.”
“I’m overjoyed, because I had a gift made in your honor—as a jeweler, I’m certain you’ll treasure this…” His sausage-thick fingers began fumbling in his coat.
“You’re too kind, Grand Chancellor. But I’ve only begun in my position, and I deserve no gifts.” Bile rose in her throat, but she forced herself still as his lecherous gaze raked her from head to toe.
He gestured for her to remove the cloak from her shoulders.
A scream threatened to break the dam in her throat, but she held firm. She unclasped the hook of her cloak and swung it off her shoulders, gathering the protective material in a sodden bundle in her arms in an effort to block his view of her chest.
“What a vision you are.” His gaze swept over her golden-rod dress—embroidered florals in sage and rust, empire-waisted with a low square neckline.
He tutted and stepped behind her. “Lift your hair for me, my dear.”
Her lips pressed even thinner as she reluctantly released her death-grip on Caromir’s hilt and did as instructed.
A soft tinkle of gems and beading came to her ear, then the press of cold but delicate metal encircled her neck.
When he turned her by the shoulders so she could see her reflection in a gilded mirror, she took in the confection of ruby-red glass beads with a golden chain that wrapped around the smooth column of her neck.
From the chain dangled multiple delicate strands of beads in a waterfall effect, with the longest layer draped at the center.
Within the hollow of her throat rested a golden heart-shaped medallion with engraved scrollwork patterns.
“I thought this would suit both your romantic femininity and the more carnal sensibilities of your new position.” His breath was hot against her neck, and she stifled a growl in her throat.
His fingers brushed her nape as he fastened the clasp, and something dark and violent coiled in her chest, like a serpent ready to strike.
Her fingers ached to move—to snap his wrist, to drive Caromir into his fat gut, to wrap the delicate chains around his throat instead and watch his face turn purple.
Instead, she smiled and turned around with a flourish. “How thoughtful,” she settled on, her voice honeyed over glass shards.
In the corner of her eye, she spotted Pavel at a pew.
“Grand Chancellor, we’ll meet again soon.” She’d practiced this mask in her mirrors until it looked more real than the expression she truly wanted to surface.
You know you want to do it, Vornaya said silkily. The soft place just below his ear—one thrust and he’d be dead before he even hit the floor…
She couldn’t afford an assassination in broad daylight. Let alone the Grand Chancellor, so she forced her body still.
“Of course, of course, my dear.” She let him tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
Ksenia watched him walk down the center aisle toward the pulpit where a hulking archbishop stood, his attention trained on Kovar.
Ksenia wove between churchgoers lingering after the service, forced to wait their turn to speak with the archbishop. Their voices were a low murmur, eyes occasionally flicking between her and the chancellor.
The rumor mill had begun.
Ksenia gratefully found her seat next to Pavel.
Darkness encircled his eyes, and he scratched at the stubble sprouting on his neck. “That was painful to watch.”
Pavel shrank beneath Ksenia’s scathing gaze.
“Anything from the graveyard shift?” Ksenia scanned the couple of dozen churchgoers.
“The rotation is fuzzy at best. I would have needed multiple nights of study to go through all the Envorsen staffed here; we’re talking battle-trained, elite guards in the hundreds.
” Pavel yawned. “Being the court scribe is boring but has its perks…I’ve learned maybe forty of them by face and name, but there’s a ton of gaps still in their patterns and rotations. ”
“What about the other teams? Did you see any of them?”
Pavel chuckled. “Yeah, spotted one being dragged away by his thumbs last night—the one with the red beard.” He cracked his knuckles. “I followed them and passed by a forge.”
Ksenia’s ears pricked. “A forge? Any bondsmiths?” she asked, a little too quickly to subvert suspicion.
Pavel rubbed his bloodshot eyes, unnoticing. “Maybe? It was my first time down there. I figured they just got executed regardless of whether they’ve pledged fealty.”
Ksenia bit her lower lip. “Where did you say this was?”
“Can we focus? I still don’t have a way into the vault.” Pavel raised his brows at her.
She settled her nerves. There would be a time and place later for her to roam and find where Danika was being held.
Ksenia sighed. “There has to be a way past them. Either by distraction or force.”
Pavel slid away. “I’m not seeing a way to do either. This challenge is about infiltration after all. I’m going to meet up with Vuk to check his progress with the pulley system.”
“I’ll do some research tonight, see if I can find an in.” Ksenia was starting to see double from her repeated sleepless nights, and she rubbed her eyes.
The church was emptying.
Behind her, the faintest shift of weight on wood.
She stayed forward.
Two small hands clapped over her eyes. “Guess who!”
“Hmm. The creepy archbishop?”
“No!” A laugh bubbled out.
“One of the guards?”
“Senka!” Petra pulled her hands away, pouting.
Ksenia turned around to find her wedged between the pew and the wall. “Who taught you to eavesdrop?”
She didn’t answer, just climbed over the pew and dropped into Pavel’s emptied seat, legs swinging.
“Don’t go down there.”
Ksenia draped her arm over the back of the pew, resting her head in her hand. “Down where?”
“The vault.” Her legs stopped swinging. “My dad cleaned down there. And they said he stole something…but he didn’t.”
Ksenia chewed on the tip of her tongue before replying. “I believe you.”
Petra looked at her, then her legs started swinging again.
She wrenched the choker off her neck and tossed it on the table.
Varka chuckled. “Still getting used to your new position?”