Chapter 5
“The mother watches and waits for her children to learn.
Rarely does she interfere.”
- The Old Book
The Veiler clamped my hips tightly and stepped closer.
Far too close for comfort.
His hair fell to his chin in dark waves that stuck to his face, damp with what was probably a combination of sweat and blood. I wanted to retch at the thought.
I saw him roam the features of my face, then start below. Without thinking, I slapped him, shocking both him and myself.
Of course, my courage would pick now to appear.
He yanked my hair, forcing my head back. His brown eyes threatened to swallow me whole, but I met them head-on. It was a challenge that I accepted. I refused to cower.
“How old are you?”
His voice was thick and edged like a knife.
“Twenty.”
“It is not righteous to lie.”
“Yet it’s righteous to steal us from our homes in the night?”
“Watch that tongue carefully, Miss. You are not required to keep it.”
“Zealot,” I spat out.
“There you go again.”
His grip on my hair tightened, nearly ripping out the roots.
Through gritted teeth, I continued.
“You are nothing but a pawn who murders innocents at the whim of those who control you.”
Fury lit in his eyes. Good, I’d struck a nerve.
“No one controls me, Miss. You’d be wise to remember that,” he growled.
He was a fool if he truly believed that. Veilers were puppets. They executed the will of the king, whatever it may be, on the grounds of protecting the faith of the realm. I lived in a kingdom that didn’t care about causing bloodshed, as long as it maintained control.
The Veiler suddenly released me from his grip, staring at me as if he were looking for something.
I should have run, self-sacrifice be damned, but I didn’t.
My body felt glued in place. He squinted, almost confused.
Then, his eyes widened just as I noted the outline of a faint scar through his short beard, cutting across his upper lip.
“What’s your name?”
I rolled my shoulders back. “My name is Mavis Ashbone, sister of Willam Ashbone,” I declared.
“Should I know who that is?” he asked, bored.
“Yes. He was taken in the last Culling of Oak Hollow. It is in his name that I seek justice for my family.”
He smirked. “I don’t know if you’ll succeed, but I’ll enjoy watching you try.”
A sudden scratch of coarse fiber grazed my skin. My gaze flicked down—but I was too late. The Veiler had already looped the rope once, twice, his movements quick and practiced. The strands bit into my wrists.
I jerked back, but his body pinned me in place. Each pull tightened the cord until my fingers tingled. The knot was cinched with a last tug, and the tail-end coiled in his hand like a leash.
“There now, no running away.”
Nearing footsteps sounded, and in the corner of my eye, a woman with hair the color of flame approached.
She wore what all Veilers did: a black tunic, pants, and mask with narrow slits for the eyes.
Her ginger hair hung in one messy braid that fell over her left shoulder.
Even in the dim torchlight, her eyes were an unmistakable spring green.
She shook her head as she glanced over my body, not once, but twice. I shifted uncomfortably under her brazen appraisal. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head at my captor.
“You know the rules. We don’t take martyrs.”
“I know, but—”
“I can see why you want to keep her,” the woman teased.
“Renata,” my captor scolded.
They spoke as if I were some object they were debating keeping.
“What difference does it make if you take me instead?” I asked, tired of being talked around. “Is it important that your victim be unwilling?”
The woman unsheathed a medium dagger strapped at her thigh and pressed the tip to my chest.
“So quick to speak when you have not been spoken to.” She trailed the blade up to my jaw like a dangerous caress.
“Not that I, or anyone I ride with, owes you an explanation for our actions. The work we do is of royal and divine merit.” She paused briefly, as if weighing her next words carefully.
“We pray to Our Lady of the Stars. She shows us who is chosen.”
“Lies,” I hissed.
“Careful,” warned my captor.
“You are all murderers who hide behind masks because you’re too cowardly to face the truth!”
The woman leaned in closer.
“And what is the truth?” She asked with a glint in her eyes.
I met her gaze unflinchingly.
“The prophecy you believe in—the one you burn, pillage, and slaughter for—doesn’t exist. It’s all a delusion, and you follow it blindly.”
“Hmm,” she hummed. “You think you know the scripture better than I do?”
I scoffed, “I know I do.”
She tilted her head to the side and assessed me once more with a renewed sense of interest. Stepping back, she drew her blade. Then, she snatched my hand and examined the palm. When I tried to rip my hand away, she slashed it open.
I cried out in pain as blood quickly pooled. My knees buckled and threatened to give out. All I could do was clench my fist tight and try to keep the wound as sealed as possible while watching crimson seep between my fingers.
My captor stiffened. “Was that necessary?”
“Look at the Ground,” she demanded.
I ignored the pain radiating through my arm and joined their gaze downward. It was dark, and I could barely see the shadowy stone. I blinked, nearly stumbling when I finally saw it. I stared for several moments before accepting it wasn’t a hallucination.
The blood that dripped from my hand was being absorbed into the Ground. Not just being absorbed, but disappearing without a trace. It wasn’t possible, yet I couldn’t deny the sight of it.
“She is blessed,” whispered my captor in astonishment.
“Take her,” said the woman.
“Mavis!” Kaven yelled from off to the side, bringing me back to reality.
I had forgotten he was there; he had been so silent. The relief I expected to come from hearing his voice never did.
Kaven started toward my captor, frying pan in hand. The woman, Renata, stepped between them and swiftly bludgeoned Kaven with the hilt of her dagger. There was a loud thud as his body hit the Ground. I covered my mouth with my non-bloody hand and screamed.
“He’ll live. He just might not like it when he wakes.” She grinned, sheathing her dagger, and sauntered off.
“Alona!” I cried. She was crouched down next to her brother, holding his bleeding head in her lap.
My captor leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Come with us, and no harm will befall the girl. That is a promise.”
“I don’t think you can keep promises,” I sniffled, my composure breaking.
“Then you will just have to see, won’t you?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“No, you do not,” his words resolute, echoing what I already knew.
I looked at Alona, at her small frame hovering protectively over her brother, and my throat tightened. I had so much to say and such little time to say it.
“Alona, listen carefully.” She looked up at me tentatively. “Tell Kaven when he wakes to take care of my mother while I’m gone. Don’t let him come after me. I will return.”
Alona nodded, tears streaming down her face. I opened my mouth to say more, but then I felt the sudden jerk of the rope.
“Time to go.” My captor tugged the rope away, pulling me from Kaven and Alona. I followed his lead without a fight, looking back only once to take one last glance at them. They were as much my family as my flesh and blood were, and now I was losing them, too.
I told myself that it wouldn’t be the last time I saw their faces. It couldn’t be.
I would fight with everything in me to get back.
I decided in that moment that there was a benefit to my new situation—a purpose. I would finally learn what happened to Willam. And maybe, if the gods were merciful, I could bring him home with me.
The Veiler hauled me through the streets. I had no choice but to obey—for now.
When we reached the village square, I saw families grouped and lined up in rows. Mothers clung to their children, and fathers clutched their wives. I counted fifteen Veilers in the square. Some held swords, while others merely stalked around looking bored.
“Do not fight us, and you will not die. We do not wish to see more bloodshed,” boomed a hauntingly graveled voice addressing the people.
I searched for the source of that voice. When I found it, I stiffened. The speaker was Crooked Teeth, the same Veiler that Kaven had knocked unconscious. I was shocked to see him alive—he had taken quite a blow to the head. And from the way he scowled at me, I could tell he remembered who I was.
The Veiler who led me here suddenly shoved me to the Ground, earning a collective gasp from the villagers that watched helplessly. My knees stung with the contact against hard stone, and I winced. That would bruise.
“Our Lady demands two more to accompany us,” Crooked Teeth continued. The bastard couldn’t keep the glee from his voice.
“What?” Panic overcame me. “No, you have me! Please, I beg of you, just take me.” I flipped my head up to my captor in a move of desperation.
“It is always in three that nature likes to be,” he said, quoting The Old Book. “As much as you might like to believe that we make our own rules, we do not. We follow the words written in the sacred text.”
“You mean you choose which words you follow. I distinctly remember reading that all of Our Lady’s children contain a part of her, and so a crime committed against one of her children is a crime against her.”
Unsurprisingly, the Veiler did not answer. Instead, he kept his eyes narrowed on the crowd before us.
“Those between the ages of thirteen and twenty, step forward!” ordered Crooked Teeth. “Keep in mind that if you attempt to trick us, it may very well be the last thing you do.”