Chapter 13 #2

“You won’t become my Third like this,” he informed me, his tone the grave threat of a superior threatening a demotion.

I nodded absently, trying to appear as though such a thing still mattered to me. Valin was too shrewd to fool. His brow wrinkled and he stepped closer, snatching me by the collar and dragging me toward a door nearby at the base of a watchtower.

“What are you doing?” I shouted, but he didn’t say a word as he pulled me into the dim light of the tower and up the stone steps.

His jaw was clenched furiously as he shoved open the door at the top and pushed me through.

I stumbled slightly, nearly pitching over the edge before righting myself at the last minute.

My eyes widened as I stared out at the expanse of desert below me.

I couldn’t help it. I flinched away from the sight as though, if I squinted, I could make out the blood-stained sand where a god and his small squadron had made a stand against creatures of corruption.

“Tell me,” Valin snapped.

I whirled back to face him where he stood a few feet before the door he'd shoved me through, arms crossed upon his broad chest.

“Tell me what’s gotten into you, boy," he practically snarled. "Before I have you removed from duty and sent to scrubbing the latrines.”

I almost scoffed at the absurdity of such a threat. Removed from duty, as if that were a punishment. Valin noticed my dark mood and his gaze narrowed.

“Out with it,” he commanded, more threatening than I'd ever heard him.

“What’s the point?” I spat.

Valin blinked at me, the only indication of his surprise.

“Going out there just to die,” I explained, gesturing to the rolling desert beyond. “For what? We’re safe here within the walls. What’s even out there to scout? Why leave? Why risk ourselves like that?”

“It's unwise to remain ignorant of an enemy,” Valin began, every bit the strategic Captain. “If the riders were to make a move—”

“What would it matter?” I snapped. “They can’t breach the walls. They can't attack so long as they stand. So why go out there and give them the lives they couldn’t otherwise take? For information there's no one left to report?”

“You and I were left to report.”

“And you see how that went. With you taking the blame for the outcome of a scouting mission that never should have been ordered in the first place.”

“Listen here, Viper,” Valin thundered, taking a step toward me.

But I didn't cower this time. I held my ground, my anger keeping me standing firmly before him. Before he could say another word, however, the door behind him flew open and a stunning woman with vibrant red hair came sweeping out of it, howling all the way.

“My Harlowe,” she cried, tears streaming down her pale, freckled cheeks as the various fabrics of her eclectic gown blew around her in the hot desert air. “Oh, my Harlowe, what have they done? Where have they taken you?”

She rushed to the edge so fiercely I feared she might fall straight off to her death.

I could do nothing but move aside, stunned by her sudden appearance, as she hurled herself at the raised stone railing on the edge of the roof.

Valin muttered a curse and stepped away from me, going to her side at once.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her gently from the edge.

“Unhand me!” she shouted. “Harlowe! Harlowe, can you hear me? I’m here, Harlowe. I’m right here. Where are they keeping you? Tell me and I shall fly to you at once. Tell me now, Harlowe. Quick, before they take you again. Tell me!”

“Alosia,” Valin spoke gently.

Every muscle in my body tensed at the name. Alosia. Saint Alosia. The Champion whose success in the Trials had been so great, so notable, a minor house had been founded in her name. Sweet, quiet, pious Alosia. This screaming woman couldn’t possibly be the same one I'd grown up idolizing.

“Let go of me, Valin. He needs me,” she was crying, pounding on his chest with her tiny fists. If he felt the assault at all, he gave no indication. When she spoke again, her voice cracked and broke upon the desperation of her words. “He needs me.”

“He’s gone, Alosia. He’s gone.”

“He’s not,” she wept. “You don’t understand. None of you have ever understood.”

Her head went limp then, red hair blocking her face from view as she dropped her brow against Valin’s shoulder, slumping against him, all fight having gone from her in an instant.

At that moment, the door burst open again and four wide-eyed guards came sprinting through.

They came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Saint Alosia in Captain Valin’s arms, weeping like a babe.

Their gaze swiveled from them to me and back.

“Take her,” Valin said, gruffly but not ungently. He stroked her smooth hair as he passed her off to the nearest guard with a sadness so deep I could see it in his eyes. “Don't lose her again or you'll answer to me.”

The guards exchanged another wide-eyed glance before bowing deeply to Valin and leading Alosia back through the door. We could hear them descending the steps of the tower beyond for a brief moment before the door slammed shut behind them and Valin and I were alone on the tower once more.

“Saint Alosia,” I breathed, still stunned as I stared at the door through which the Victor had disappeared.

“We didn’t ask to be your saints,” Valin snapped, drawing my attention back to him.

“What happened to her?”

His vitriol fell away at my question, replaced by an exhaustion that seemed to be bone deep. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he stepped away from the edge he'd pulled his fellow Victor from moments before.

“She’s gone mad,” Valin said simply. “Has been for centuries.”

I gaped at him.

“How—” I started but he didn’t let me finish.

“It’s the guilt,” he told me, sorrow lacing his tone as he did. “Severing the bond, making that choice, sometimes the guilt is too much for them. Sometimes they can’t come to terms with what they’ve done. Sometimes they go mad.”

I fell silent, watching as Valin stared out at the desert.

He didn't speak again. But I couldn’t stand there on that watchtower with him.

I couldn’t stand there knowing what they didn’t.

That their partners hadn’t died from their betrayal.

And that maybe Alosia, mad as she seemed, was the sanest of them all.

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