Chapter 38
Softness caressed Corinne’s body, the warmth of morning sunlight kissing her skin.
She breathed in the scent of summer air and sweet orange blossoms. Her eyes opened slowly, her mind taking a moment to make sense of her surroundings.
She was in her room in the castle, and by the look of the beams of sunlight shining through her window, it was midmorning.
Corinne stretched in her bed, then froze, looking down at her hands.
Her wrists were shackled.
Memories flooded her all at once, and she flew out of bed, her chest heaving as her heart took off. She was wearing a clean tunic and fresh trousers, and after quickly assessing the state of her body, she found her injuries were gone. How long had she been asleep?
She had to get out of here, had to find Aryel and figure out what was going on. As quickly as possible with her shackled wrists, she tugged on her boots and looked for her sword, but it was nowhere in sight. Corinne marched to her door and tried the knob. Locked.
“Let me out!” she shouted, pounding on it with her fists. No one answered her, but she knew someone had to be outside. “Vera! Mother Creita! Let me out!”
The door opened a moment later, and Corinne stepped back as Vera, Priestess Bria, and Priestess Chala entered her room, shutting the door behind them again. Vera crossed her arms as she stood by the window.
“Really, Corinne, have some decorum,” Priestess Bria said.
“Where is Prince Aryel?” she asked, her eyes darting between the three of them.
Vera’s arms dropped, her face going blank. The Priestesses stared at Corinne for a long moment.
“Corinne,” Chala said slowly. “What is the nature of your relationship with the prince?”
She didn’t have time for this. “Please just tell me if he’s alive.”
“So the noble girl was right,” Priestess Bria said, her eyes igniting with anger. “We did not want to believe it.”
“What noble girl?” Corinne demanded.
“A very lovely young woman named Lana told us the prince was making advances toward you,” Bria said. “We were concerned for you, being exposed to such temptation.”
“Lana is a snake,” Corinne spat.
“And yet it seems she spoke true.”
“Then why tell me I had redeemed myself?” Corinne asked. “If you thought I had succumbed to such temptation?”
“We hoped our commendations would bring you back to us,” Chala said. “But you have betrayed us all, Corinne.”
“I’ve betrayed you?” Corinne nearly choked on the words.
“Since I was a child, you all promised me safety and honor amongst the Lightguards, and then you throw me into an assignment without telling me anything important, and the moment I make a move slightly outside of your secret plans, you burn me and shame me back into submission. All for what? Power? Conquest? The things you taught me that we have abhorred since our inception, which you claimed Nightrenders were doing. Was that even real?”
“Vera,” Bria barked.
Vera stepped behind Corinne, grabbing one of her arms and kicking the back of her legs. She collapsed to her knees, and Vera drew her sword, holding it to Corinne’s neck.
Corinne breathed heavily, her skin shifting against the blade as she looked up at the Priestesses.
“You were kept in the dark for your own protection,” Bria said, disgust on her face.
“We thought you would be devoted no matter what. But you strayed days after your arrival, and while we thought you had begun redeeming yourself, you were betraying us again. You’re no better than the hedonistic nobles who throw themselves at royalty like irreverent lechers. ”
They truly didn’t understand, Corinne realized. Perhaps they’d never felt what she felt for Aryel, had never known the light that bloomed inside her when he laughed, the peace within her when he was near.
“You dare lecture me on irreverence,” Corinne said, her voice low, Vera’s sword still hovering by her throat. “Have the Lightguards overthrown the Serra family, then? Have you broken our creed?”
“Have you whored yourself to a Goddessless prince?” Chala snapped.
Corinne looked right in her eyes as she said, “Maybe I have.”
Bria stepped forward to grab the back of Corinne’s collar and upper arm.
“We’ve tried to be gentle with you, Corinne,” Chala said, her eyes flashing. “But you’ve strayed further than we’d realized. To the dungeons, then. To see your prince.”
Even as dread prickled along her skin, Corinne’s heart leapt. Ari is alive. She waited for Bria to force her to her feet, for Vera to remove her sword, but instead, a sharp jab similar to what she’d felt at the monastery pierced her neck, and darkness swept in.
“Corinne.”
Consciousness dragged Corinne back to reality, her eyes pounding in her skull as she forced them open.
Torches on the dark stone walls lit the room, not a window in sight between the floor and the high ceiling.
Before her, a figure crouched in white robes—Priestess Ronna, her dark hair in a neat braid over her shoulder.
“She’s awake,” Ronna called, standing.
She moved aside, revealing the rest of the room, including Mother Creita in the center beside—
“Aryel!” she choked out.
He was slumped in a chair, unconscious, his hands and ankles bound to the arms and legs by thick rope.
Corinne made to stand, to reach him, but her shackles were chained to the wall behind her, only allowing her enough lead to take a single step forward.
She summoned her light to bolster her strength, but her power hadn’t fully recovered since the fire.
“Let’s not be brash, Corinne,” Mother Creita said, drawing a knife and holding it to Aryel’s throat.
Corinne’s light winked out, fear clawing at her.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice small.
“The royals have been an abomination to Helaera for a century now,” Mother Creita said, her green eyes wide, the knife still at Aryel’s throat. “It is our duty to protect the people of Ashera and to bring them Helaera’s Light. These heretics are a disgrace to the Goddess.”
“Was any of it true, then?” Corinne asked, her voice shaking. She hated that part of her still wanted to believe Mother Creita, believe that the Lightguards were serving an honorable purpose. “About the Nightrenders? The threat from beyond the Boundary?”
“It’s only a matter of time before they do threaten us,” the High Priestess hissed.
“That’s why we needed to act. The Lightguards will install a more devout rule in Ashera, and we will protect Ashera and ourselves whenever the Shadowlands come for us.
And you, Corinne, must give up this childishness.
This heretic is not worthy of your devotion. ”
Corinne stared at her, at Aryel.
“You made me think I had strayed,” Corinne said, the break in her voice not contrived. “Forgotten our ways and disgraced myself and the Goddess. But you—” She broke off, unable to form words that captured her disbelief. “Lightguards do not seek thrones.”
Mother Creita sighed. “I feared you would say that. You have such potential, Corinne, and here you waste it. But we can help you return to the path, to the Light. We want to welcome you back.”
The tangled knot of Corinne’s soul finally unraveled, the bonds of fear and shame falling away.
She didn’t want to go back.
Mother Creita’s hands lit up as she touched Aryel’s neck, and he woke with a ragged inhale, disoriented. Most of his injuries from the fire had been healed. Had they had him down here since then? Had they hurt him?
His exhausted eyes landed on Corinne, and the fear that immediately replaced the flash of relief on his face tore into her.
“Corinne,” he said, his voice rough.
Mother Creita flicked the knife across his upper arm, and he swore.
“No talking unless I ask for a response, Prince,” she said, her voice cold. Corinne’s magic flashed along her arms as rage ignited in the pit of her stomach. “Keep yourself in check, Corinne, or I’ll do worse than cut him.”
Corinne forced down her anger, cursing the shackles on her wrists. Ronna stood several feet away by a heavy wooden door, calm and silent.
“As I said, the royals are heretics, and this one is no different,” Mother Creita said, placing a hand on Aryel’s shoulder. He flinched, but didn’t say anything. “You, Corinne, are the daughter of a flamewielder, and you are worthy of so much more.”
“My father was a violent defector who killed my mother,” Corinne said, her voice trembling again.
Defector. The word echoed in her mind, insistent, reaching for her.
“Yes, but he was still powerful, and he passed that power down to you.”
“I’ve only harnessed the flames once,” Corinne said, shaking her head.
“So I’ve heard,” Mother Creita said. “Now tell me, Corinne, have you been drinking your tea?”
Was she truly trying to shame her over that right now? “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything,” Mother Creita said, stepping past Aryel and removing her hand. He shifted as he looked to Corinne, but his bindings were secure. “It’s a suppressant, child. To keep the flames in check until you were fully trained.”
“I’ve been fully trained for years,” Corinne said, even as her mind reeled.
A suppressant?
“Mentally trained. This assignment was your true final test,” Mother Creita said. “It made sense at the time to use this to test the true depth of your devotion. You never know with the daughter of a defector.”
Defector. Defector. Corinne raged against the shame and torment those words wrought upon her heart. She would not let that fear cage her anymore.
“Perhaps we should have told you of our plans all along, and you would not have strayed,” Mother Creita said.
“But there’s still time to redeem yourself, Corinne.
Denounce the prince and take your rightful place among us.
Lend us your considerable power, and Helaera will bless you in ways you could scarcely imagine. ”
Corinne looked to Aryel again, and the trust in his eyes bolstered her courage.
“No,” she said.
Mother Creita sighed again. “You make this so difficult.”