Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ihold Jordi's cold hand as Malachi carries him through the ruined temple. His skin is ice. His breathing shallow. Kage pushes open the side door and noise crashes over us. Music. Laughter. The Moon Festival in full swing. We barrel through fog and drunk revelers, pushing toward Veritas territory.
It strikes me, as we push through the crowd, that it wouldn't matter if we reached Veritas. There is no safety. There never was. I squeeze Jordi's hand tighter, wishing he were awake enough to mock me for believing there ever could be.
We slow when we reach the alley. Margot and Draven rush forward, eyes widening as they take in Jordi's appearance.
Margot presses the back of her hand to his forehead. "He looks ghastly."
I swallow past the knot in my throat and nod. He looks worse than he did after the poisoned arrow. And that nearly killed him.
"Where do we go?" Malachi asks.
"The Whispering Ponds," Naima says. "Where else?"
"Will it be safe?"
Malachi's free hand finds mine. His fingers lace through my trembling ones. "Where do you want me to take him?"
The answer claws its way out of my throat. "There's nowhere. There's nowhere safe."
I press a hand to my mouth, blinking back tears. The hopelessness of it settles over me like a shroud. There is nowhere safe for him. The moment the Council discovers he's gone, they'll come looking. And they will find him.
Malachi squeezes my hand. "Can you treat him at the clinic?"
I nod.
He releases me and starts walking. We follow.
Malachi sets Jordi on the exam table and ushers everyone out. The door closes behind them. I press my forehead against the wood. Breathe. Then turn to face my brother. I don't waste time on tears. I'm not sure I have any left.
I don't reach for ingredients. Don't remove his shirt. I simply place my hands on his chest, close my eyes, and find my center.
Then I focus on him.
The last time I used this gift, I had to dig deep and pull the poison. This time is different. There's nothing to pull. I find the source of his injuries quickly. Heal his ribs first, then his wrists.
Then I turn to his energy. That's where the real damage lies. I push some of my own into him. And as I do, I remember the prophecy.
What the Flame said about losing my memories. So I push more. Love. Gratitude. Courage. Compassion. Hope. All the things I wish I'd given him sooner. Things I pray I'll give him again, when my memories return. If they return.
A hand covers mine.
My eyes fly open. Hazel eyes stare back at me. Eyes I've missed so much.
"You saved me again," he croaks.
I laugh and wipe tears I was certain had dried up. "Someone has to." I smack his arm lightly. "Gods, Jordi. What were you thinking?"
He laughs weakly as I help him sit up. I watch him drain two glasses of water too quickly, then wait until I'm sure he'll keep it down before speaking.
"We have so much to discuss. And so little time."
His eyebrow rises. "Little time?"
"Draven leaves for Vindariel soon. I need you to go with him."
He blinks. "Are you coming?"
I glance at the door. "I can't. Not yet."
"Then neither can I."
"You have to," I say, drawing out each word in hopes that they sink in. "The Council took you to the Hall of Gratitude to feed the Everlasting. Constantine has a chip of the amber stone. The actual Everlasting. That's how he channels Cato's power."
Jordi's eyes widen. "His ring. I saw it when they brought me in. It was glowing."
"Glowing?"
"Faintly. Like it was ..." He shudders. "Drinking something. I thought I imagined it."
I remember the amber flash in Constantine's eyes at the square. I didn't imagine that. And I didn't imagine the wrongness in that temple.
"I don't know what it means for Cato." I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth. "But the Council will come looking for you."
He studies me. "You spoke to Sara."
I nod, blinking back fresh tears. "She told me everything."
"About the Shroud? The stones?"
"Everything."
"Did she tell you I wrote those messages on the walls?"
My eyebrows shoot up. "No." A laugh escapes me despite everything. "Gods, Jordi. You are the most brilliant idiot I know."
He grins. "I try."
"Who else? Just you?"
"A few others." His expression darkens. "It doesn't matter. The 'renegades' stopped. Most of them got scared."
Of course they did. It happens every time. Every rise and fall of civilization. Every time one group deems themselves superior, whether by class, skin color, sex, or the gods they worship, they use the same tactics.
Sometimes they strike at the perceived leader. Other times, they target loved ones. Or silence the loudest voices first. Whatever it takes to instill enough fear that the rest fall in line.
It happens with pack animals. With certain hawks. With raffins. The thought gives me pause.
I think about Cato. His scepter. The way he compels people to follow him, to bend to his will. Constantine doesn't have a scepter. He has something worse. Erasure. Suppression. The Shroud.
He erased the gods from memory. Turned them into costumes for the Moon Festival. Characters to dress as, never beings to worship. No. Worship is reserved for the Everlasting. And even that, he doesn't call a god.
He uses altered incantations to bend residents to his will. Memory stones to feed the Shroud. Amulets as weapons of fear. No one dares remove them. No one wants to be blamed for letting the Shroudmaidens in.
I would call him clever, but there's little convincing needed when you've stripped away someone's memories. His flowery speeches, his posturing. They're for his benefit, not theirs.
"The Sages said you went to the Keep on purpose."
He sighs. "I thought I could spare you some pain. Move the stones so they could no longer feed the Shroud. Give those people a chance to ..."
"Survive once the Shroud is gone?"
"Yes." His eyes are full of sorrow. "But the memory stones can't be moved. I tried."
My stomach drops.
"I'm so sorry, Temp. The older residents, the ones who were here when the treaty was signed, and some who arrived when we did ..." He swallows. "They can't survive without their amulets."
I set my elbows on the table and bow my head. "So when the Shroud falls ... they’ll die?"
"I'm sorry."
I shake my head. "Lenora's journal mentioned a reversal elixir."
"It won't work on them." His voice is hollow. "Too many stones have turned black. Those people are already gone. The amulets are the only thing keeping them here. If the Shroud vanishes, it powers them off."
My stomach lurches. I press a hand to my mouth. All those people. So many stones in those tunnels. So many lives, already hollowed out.
"The newer residents should be fine. The ones who arrived after us."
My eyes fly open. "What about Arlo? Cas? Bastian?"
"Arlo and Cas take theirs off regularly. But Bas …” He looks away. "I don't know."
I think of Margot and bite my lip to keep it from trembling. Gods. It's too much.
"Did you know the Council was using different elixirs?" I whisper.
"I suspected. Draven remembers his life, and he took the same elixir as everyone else."
"Do you know what makes it different?"
"No. But while I was 'recovering' at the Hall of Reflection, I overheard a healer. She said some duelers came in for treatment. The way they described feeling at the amphitheater ..." He pauses. "It was like they were being controlled."
"Controlled how?"
"Their minds." He meets my eyes. "Is it possible an incantation could do that?"
"Only at the amphitheater?"
"I don't know." He starts pacing the small space. "The amphitheater was one of the first structures built in Lunaris. The temple in front of it, too. And according to Arlo, there are no tunnels beneath it. Something is blocking them."
He stops. Turns to face me. "What if that's where the main concentration of stones is? What if that's what makes people susceptible to Constantine?"
"His mind control?"
"Maybe. I don't know." He shivers. "Is it possible to control someone's mind without an elixir? Or is it the elixir he gives them when they arrive? I can't figure it out."
I think of the history we've studied. The patterns. "I don't think it takes much to control someone's mind. They just need to be susceptible."
"Gods." His voice is barely a whisper. "And having no memories makes them more vulnerable."
I nod, horror mounting, and remember something else. "The poisoned arrow that hit you that day. It seemed aimed at you specifically."
Jordi shakes his head. "It was a new legion guard.”
“They shot several of them right at you.”
“He shot a few people. He shot his own foot, too. He claimed he was seeing things that others said weren’t there.” His mouth twists. "He was taken to the Hall of Reflection. He didn't survive."
"Are you sure?"
"Fairly sure." He shrugs. "Why else would it only have happened that day?"
I have no answer for that.
"What about the Shroudmaidens? Are they really sacrificed healers?"
"I don't know for certain. But an old Veritas scholar had a theory." He pauses. "He believed the maidens sacrificed themselves for Pia. To help her in the afterlife."
"How? Why?"
"He didn't explain. Just said he saw a pattern."
I think of the Shroudmaidens in the tunnels. Their glowing eyes. Their accusation: You fed—
"This is awful," I whisper. "All of it."
"It's not your fault."
I scoff. "Maybe not the oldest residents. Maybe not directly. But it's still my fault."
"You couldn't have known!" He slides off the table and grabs the edge when his legs wobble. "We couldn't have!"
"I should have. I made those elixirs for years, Jordi. Years. How could I not sense something was wrong?"
"You stopped the moment you suspected something was wrong. You didn't even know the full truth." He shakes his head. "I can't believe you didn't tell me."
"It wouldn't have changed anything."
A wave of emotion crashes over me. The curse. The bargain. Everything I haven't told him.
"Jordi. I need you to go with Draven."