The Emperor swept from the chamber, his guards falling into step behind him. Sagar trailed silently, while the priestesses lingered, their crimson robes vivid against the shadowed walls.
“Follow us,” one of them murmured.
Dalmatius seized Leywani’s arm, his grip firm but not bruising, and pulled her forward. His gaze flicked to Katell, who moved without hesitation, an obedient puppet.
The priestesses led them down a winding corridor, torches casting flickering shadows that stretched and clawed at the walls. Finally, they emerged into another bathing chamber. Unlike the blackened pool they’d left behind, this one shimmered with clear, inviting water, its surface rippling with purple flowers. The cloying scent of lavender hung heavy in the air, wrapping around them like an illusion of peace.
Dalmatius unlocked Leywani’s manacles with a sharpclick. “Clean her up, get her dressed, and then I’ll take you somewhere more comfortable than your cell.”
Beside them, Katell waited, her dark, empty eyes fixed on nothing.
Rubbing her sore wrists, Leywani kept her focus on Katell. “What did you do to her?”
She knew better than to question a Rasennan commander, but she couldn’t stay silent—not with Katell standing there so broken.
Dalmatius didn’t even flinch. “She’s Laran’s Chosen. She was always meant to become the Empire’s weapon.”
Leywani shook her head, her voice filled with quiet fury. “This is wrong, and you know it.”
His jaw clenched, a shadow crossing his eyes—a flicker of doubt, of regret—before he masked it with cold resolve. “It’s done. Now help her bathe, or I’ll send you back to Velthur.”
Leywani’s breath shuddered, helplessness and rage tangling in her throat. Words wouldn’t sway Dalmatius. He moved towards the stone bench near the entrance, blade resting across his knees, its edge scraping against the whetstone with slow precision—a quiet reminder of the threat he represented, even with his gaze averted.
The three priestesses lingered like silent sentinels by the pool, their veiled faces unreadable.
Leywani forced herself to ignore them.
“I’ll undress first,” she told Katell in a gentle tone. “Then we’ll get you cleaned up.”
No response. No flicker of recognition.
Katell stood rigid, her blackened eyes vacant, water still clinging to her skin in inky droplets.
With dread heavy in her chest, Leywani peeled off her boots and tattered tunic, the fabric sticky with sweat and grime. Every movement felt weighted, suffocating, but she willed herself not to falter.
A flicker of motion made her stiffen. One of the priestesses stepped forward, hands reaching for Katell. Leywani’s pulse leapt, and she raised a hand to stop the woman.
“It’s all right,” she said, her voice edged with quiet defiance. “I’ll do it.”
The priestess hesitated, then retreated without a word.
Leywani’s fingers trembled as she unclasped the pin at Katell’s shoulder. The crimson fabric slid from her body, pooling on the floor, but Katell’s vacant stare never shifted.
Leywani had seen Katell’s body before, during carefree days by the stream at Camp Bessi—days filled with laughter, warmth, and the lightness of their friendship.
Those days felt a world away now.
She forced a soft smile, trying to chase away the bitter weight pressing down on her chest. “Let’s go into the water.”
Katell moved, a shadow following her every step.
The water greeted them like a gentle caress, though it was a little too hot for comfort. Leywani paused on the steps, letting the sting seep through her limbs. Katell slipped into the steaming pool without hesitation—or reaction.
Leywani drew a tight breath and faced the array of oils and tools arranged along the edge of the bath. She ignored the curved metal implements, focusing instead on the simple sponge.
Her heart squeezed as she approached Katell. “I’m going to cleanse your skin.” She forced her tone to remain calm, almost cheerful—anything to keep panic at bay. “You’re still covered in that black water, and we don’t want it to damage your hair. Here.”
Gently, she took Katell’s arm and rubbed the oil-soaked sponge over her friend’s skin. “You’ll be right as new when I’m done,” she said, trying to believe her own words.
