Chapter Forty-Six
Forty-six
Oh, my darling. Affection is neither a poison nor a cure, though to those touched by it, it can often feel like either. Or both.
—IDALINE, THE MERCHANT OF LUMERIS
IT’S OVER.
But it’s not. Not for me, not yet.
The darkness seems heavier in the deserted desolation that is the shrine of Tempestra-Innara, stone walls surrounding it like the ragged edge of a grave.
The night bleeds into my skin, chills running over it, save where my wounds throb with aching heat.
But even that fades behind a deeper pain, and the tight grip of fear.
That Osiron is gone. That the attack on the shrine has driven them away, along with the reliquary.
By now, they must know their follower is dead.
Or did they expect this, and that’s why they didn’t send Avery?
I don’t know. I cannot fathom the expectations or motivations of a deity that’s been planning—manipulating—for centuries.
I only know that they offered me a chance, and now, despite my prior hesitations, all I want is to take it.
To leave Cyprene behind and stand before my Goddess one final time.
As minutes tick by, each more impatient than the last, the statue at the center of the shrine tugs at my attention. It’s only stone, and defaced rudely, but the blank stare of that holy visage still manages to stir up memories.
Of Tempestra-Innara, looming above, gaze piercing into the depths of me.
Of divine blood dripping over my lips, its searing warmth trickling down my chin.
Of a deity watching on as I fight, kill, fight, all in their name.
“Lys?”
I know the voice before I turn, the figure before I take in its lines, the cloak wrapping it not fooling me this time. Avery pulls back the hood, letting the little moonlight that reaches into the shrine wash over him.
“I’m in,” I say, before he can speak. Before anything else can poison my resolve. “But I have to go now. Caius is waiting nearby in his ship. Tomorrow, Nolan will go to him when he finds me gone, tell him everything about the reliquary.”
A smile twitches onto Avery’s lips, as if he knew that my full defection was never in doubt. That it was an inevitability.
And maybe it was.
“Thank you.” I’ve never heard more true gratitude in those words. “I always believed you would help us.”
Something twists in my gut. “I’m helping myself. Not you, not Rion, not whatever mad scheme he has to reshape the world or whatever. Getting rid of Tempestra-Innara is, above all else, for me.”
“Even a selfish choice can serve the greater good.”
Good. I swallow a snicker. Do any of us deserve that distinction, after everything that’s happened? “When this is done—if it gets done—I’m gone after. Forever. No one comes after me, or tries to sell me on any new faiths, got it?”
Avery nods, more solemn now. “No debts, Lys. Not to us.”
No debts to pay. No chains to keep me down. No ties at all. The night air is nowhere near as refreshing as the simple thought of it. “I’m sorry about your friend, at the shrine. The Caerula… we didn’t know.”
Avery’s hopefulness diminishes a little.
“It should have been me. But Osiron… they were so sure you’d agree to help us…
” He swallows. “If you did—when you did, they wanted me close, knew you wouldn’t trust anyone else to deliver the reliquary.
” A moment passes. “The ship is waiting. Splendid Rumor, east end of the docks. As soon as you’re on board, they’ll cast off. ”
“Splendid Rumor, got it.” The ache to be gone from Cyprene is suddenly so deep, it’s as if I’ve been stabbed again. “Fair warning, when Caius returns, things are going to get messy here.”
Something like sorrow touches his eyes. “We never expected to win this battle without losses. But now the tide has truly turned.”
“Let’s not plan the victory party yet. But… maybe.”
Avery stares at me as if I am salvation made flesh. Like I am a deity and he is my devoted. Which is something I’ve had more than enough of tonight. “Do you have it?”
He reaches into his coat and draws out a wooden box—an unremarkable thing, unadorned, boring.
Until he opens it. Inside, on a bed of silk, lies the reliquary.
The emeralds and silver catch what little light there is, the crystal taking on an otherworldly glow that attests to its divinity.
But I’ve fallen for that before. The bottle lights up as I remove it from its casket and pull the stopper.
Blood sings, a song both divine and damned.
I close it up again.
“Can’t wait to find out what it tastes like.” I slip the box into my jacket. “Time to go.”
Avery nods. “Thank you again, Lys.”
“Thank me when Tempestra-Innara is dead. But from a distance.” I start toward the shrine entrance, then stop and turn instead toward the far wall, loosening a brick there.
Behind it is the Renderers’ remaining blood tinctures and balms, stashed away safely since Marzela’s threats.
I add the Renderers’ book and Jogue’s diary, hand the lot to Avery.
“These might come in handy… one way or another.”
He examines the contents and nods, understanding.
“And tell Rion… tell him… I don’t know. That I felt like I should say something but ran out of cleverness. Or just a farewell. Frankly, whether I end up dead or free, I’ll be happy if I never come across any of you ever again. Do me a favor and sort things out so that’s what happens, okay?”
Avery smiles again. “We will do our best. If you promise to survive. And then, to live.”
No. I won’t promise something I can’t hold to.
“I’ll do my best too.” Without another word, I plunge back into the streets.
Avery does the same, in the opposite direction.
One hand in my pocket, my fingers grip the reliquary box so tightly they go numb, a sensation that spreads through the rest of me.
Everything narrows, tightens around me like a shroud.
By the time I get close to the docks, dawn is teasing its arrival.
There are more stirrings of humanity, the smell of morning fires being lit in stoves, the occasional crow of a rooster.
On a city bridge, I pause, the harbor barely visible below through the early-morning fog.
I can see movement, sailors on rigging, cargo being loaded and unloaded.
There, the Splendid Rumor waits for me, its traitorous assassin, and my most precious of cargo.
The bridge empties me into a plaza. Here the fog lies thicker, but in a comforting sort of way. A soothing blanket of anonymity.
Except.
Halfway across the plaza, a figure appears, planted with deliberate stillness. Waiting. I freeze, skin tingling as the silhouette calmly, damn near casually, strolls to where I stand.
Caius.
The Arbiter’s eyes blaze with a stormy blend of fury and triumph. “Good morning, Lys.”
Boots hit stone, and suddenly the plaza is littered with Thorn Guard. Reflexively, I reach for my sickles, then stop. I don’t know what this is. What it means. What I do know is that these are elite soldiers, not Caerula. And that I’m already injured. If I start a fight, I’m going to lose.
“You… you’re back.”
He doesn’t reply, only glares, and I understand suddenly: Caius never left.
The Arbiter takes a few steps closer. “I always thought there was something off about you. Something wrong. But not until now did I truly understand how deep the rot ran.”
I straighten, doing my best to seem annoyed. “It’s too early for mind games, Caius.”
His mouth twitches up. “We both know who is playing games here. I know you didn’t want to believe me, but here we are, aren’t we?”
It takes a moment to realize that he’s not talking to me. Suddenly, the blood ripping through my veins seems to stop entirely.
All because of the look on Nolan’s face as he steps out of the fog.
Not the one that Caius, and the rest of the world, sees.
No, Nolan is as expressionless as he was on that morning at the Cathedral, as we were preparing for the funeral procession.
Calm. Considering. A mask that doesn’t fool me anymore, now that I’ve seen what’s underneath.
And the bewildered disappointment I perceive pierces my chest like a blade.
“Boys”—somehow, I keep my voice steady—“I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”
“Shut up.” Caius’s words crack like ice. “Nolan didn’t want to believe. I didn’t want to either. But it appears there’s a good reason you’ve yet to root out the heretics—because you’ve been working alongside them.”
I laugh, despite being the least amused I have ever been in my whole cursed life. I turn to Nolan. “And just when you thought you were the one whose brain was getting the most scrambled by being away from the Goddess. Caius here—”
“Knows where you go at night.” The Arbiter takes another step closer, hands folding behind him, the dark circles under his eyes even deeper than before. “And who you meet with, just now in a place where you should be on your traitor knees, praying for mercy.”
Oh. Oh, godsdamn it. In a heartbeat, I am back in the library, startled into attention by Caius. By the only person who has been able to sneak up on me in as long as I can remember. We all have our little talents.
“Do you think I believed either of you would tell me the full truth?” says Caius. “That I wouldn’t keep an eye on you?”
The air goes out of my lungs. I did it again.
For the second time I didn’t question my own perceptions about one of my blood brethren, or the story being sold to me by them.
Caius may be a spoiled, arrogant bastard, but he’s also Cloister trained.
And when Nolan and I both thought he was indulging his Belspire-pampered backside at the fancy guesthouse he’d shacked up in, he was doing the exact opposite.
And I revealed myself almost right away.