Chapter 53 | Sephania #2
We tried our prototype Silverblood tincture on her and it failed, nearly collapsing our whole plan. I’ll never know for sure, but I certainly believe it failed because Cyprilis’ life was too difficult and dark to ever get of.
What humanity could have ever returned to a girl whose entire life was stolen from her at a young age? There was no humanity to return to Cy.
In that, I almost feel a sense of relief to know her suffering has gone. The tears don’t come like they did with Antones.
Four people are huddled over the cot in the corner of the room, and I can already see who they’re standing over and murmuring to by the cut of their ragged gray robe.
They move as I approach, shocked to see me here, bowing to me like I’m their queen.
Iron Sister Keffa rests on her back, breathing in short spurts. The old woman looks even smaller and frailer than before. Tere’s a red-stained bandage across her middle, diagonally from her shoulder, wrapping over her breasts, and down to her hip.
“Truehearts flog me, Keffa. What happened here? What diabolical things took place while we were gone?” I go to my knees and hold her clammy hand in mine so she doesn’t have to raise her voice.
She’s awake, but only just. A flicker of a smile plays across her lips, the skin around them beading with sweat.
She looks feverish, likely from whatever wound she sustained beneath that bandage.
“She f-fought him to the end, the poor child,” Keffa ekes out.
Her voice is hardly more than a whisper.
“We couldn’t help her, when it’s all s-said and done. Could w-we, Lady Lock?”
I blink emotion away, steeling myself. “Cyprilis? No, Iron Sister. She was sadly beyond saving. Who did she fight?”
I already know who, but I need to hear her say it.
“The Night Judge,” she says, with an almost awful reverence as she utters the name.
Of course. No wonder his army took so long to get to us in the Faith Ward. He was busy counterattacking. Lines crease my forehead. “He came here . . . by himself?”
“Like a great and powerful wind, blowing through the Firehold, child. He flew in and knew r-right where to go to find . . . Antones . . .” She speaks his name hesitantly, as if to make sure I’ve already discovered his fate.
I swallow hard and nod.
“. . . and your mother and I.”
My heart slams against my ribs, and I feel that if it happens again, I might pass out from shock. “J-Jinneth? What . . . What happened to my mother, Keffa?”
“Aramastun abducted her. He killed Antones in that gruesome fashion, came for us, and no one dared try to stop him.” She coughs lightly, turning her head, and closes her eyes before continuing.
It’s clear the ancient woman needs rest, and I’m still not certain she’ll live.
Keffa is the kind of woman who always seems on death’s door.
But she’s also surprising, like when I learned she’s a total expert in swordfighting. Or cane-swordfighting.
“. . . No one dared stop him save for Sister Cyprilis and me. He killed Sister Cyprilis and gave me this tickle.” She gestures vaguely at the cavernous, bloody wound across her chest. The tickle.
“We tried protecting Jinneth but he was too powerful.” Her hand tightens on mine, bony and skeletal.
“Told me to convey the message that you’d know where to find him.
‘Back in her cage where she belongs, where it all started,’ he said. ”
I clench my jaw and nod slowly. Sutlis Spire.
The very heart of the Judgment Ward.
“Rest now, Keffa.” I pat her hand and slide from her vice grip. Slowly, I stand. I have all the information I need about this tragedy, and the Iron Sister needs sleep and healing. To the four physicians looking over her, I ask in a low voice, “Will she survive?”
“We believe so, ma’am.”
I bare my right wrist from my sleeve, shoving the veins protruding along my forearm. “Then this should help.”
Skartovius steps in. “Temptress, wait, are you sure? You already—”
I hold up a hand to silence the nobleblood. He won’t tell me who I can and can’t help with my Loreblood.
When I’m done giving the physicians a bit of blood directly from the source—enough to help Keffa in her recovery—I turn to my mates with a somber expression.
“Here we go again,” I say. “My mother is missing and needs rescuing.”
“The Relic,” Vallan grunts, and it brings a sad smile to my face. That’s what she was once called by Iron Sister Keffa, in an urgent move to get us to rescue her lover from the prison hold underneath Sutlis Spire.
“We can’t go to the Judgment Ward, love,” Skar says. “You know that.”
“Of course we can. And will.”
“Your mother—”
“Will hate it, but it’s necessary. We need to end this, Skar.
You read the wall: we take one, he takes two.
We killed Valenthia, and he killed Antones and took my mother.
Cyprilis and Keffa were collateral damage.
It won’t stop here. It won’t stop ever.” My anger grows, turning righteous and spitting.
“Hasn’t your goal always been to topple the Five Ministries? ”
“Aye. But not like this. Not with everyone dying in the process.”
“We’re this close!” I separate my thumb and finger apart by a hair. “We can’t give up now. I won’t do it. Jinneth wouldn’t.”
“We’ve all seen how obsessed she’s become with the Silverblood,” Vallan grunts in agreement. “Her work should not be for naught.”
“And her work worked.” Awe tinges my voice.
“That fucker Aramastun is losing his hold over his own army. Vampires are losing their thralls all across Olhav, and we’ve just destroyed the Faith Ward’s abduction scheme and exposed the Truehearts as frauds!
This is the perfect time to strike, Skar, and you know it.
When they’re weakest and we have momentum on our side. ”
“I hate how well I taught you to reason,” he seethes.
Lukain says, “I fought against you at Sutlis Spire the first time. This time, I’ll gladly fight with you.” He gives something like a salute, and I want to kiss him for it.
Skartovius is outvoted two-to-one. Garroway isn’t currently here to back him up, either. He’s out in the countryside running down a weasel. Plus, let’s be honest: Garro would always stick by me. He would agree with me even if he doesn’t agree with me, on principle alone.
The nobleblood lets out a heavy sigh, resigned to his fate. He brushes his long mane back across his scalp. “Can we have one evening? One fucking evening before we go barreling into the demon’s lair again?”
My eyes narrow suspiciously. “If this is your way to get me into bed . . . at a time like this . . .”
“I’ve shadowwalked across Olhav and back no less than five fucking times this evening, Sephania. I can hardly walk.”
“Oh.” My face heats with embarrassment.
“Oh.” The voice sounds like an echo, coming from down the hall, and then it’s repeated again, louder this time. “Oh! Uh. Shit. Intruder!”
My face sinks and we pull our weapons out of their scabbards one more time, darting from the room.
It takes us no time at all to get to the eating room, where Tecca is running from the ladder room.
She points emphatically down the hall, jumping on the tips of her toes. “Intruder! Intruder, Lady Lock!”
“Heard you, Tec!” I shout, dashing down the hall—
Raising my swords at the figure I see in the circular room. Sunlight from the opening above creates a cylinder of brilliant yellow rays and dust motes, keeping the figure off to the side in the shadows.
The person is small in stature, wearing a completely preposterous golden robe with a hood. The hood flies back as I raise my swords—
Revealing a quaint, pretty face with tawny gold hair.
“Palacia,” I gasp.
“Liolen Sesk is dead,” she replies, her face as placid and emotionless as ever.
I let out a relieved breath, and my blades hiss into their sheaths.
Behind me, Skartovius growls, “Finally some good fucking news!”