Maybe Themas would have some other good news for her. The wine, or perhaps his youth and lack of worldly experience, made him carelessly chatty.
“That is more … delicate. Such news may not have reached your ears, but times are changing in Vandalesia. People are protesting the power resting in the Inquisition’s hands. They think their history of violence dims the Radiant Lord’s Light, and the Church is pressured daily into revisiting its relevance. There have been protests in the city-states all over the peninsula in the past few years.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Please keep this to yourself, but … if this keeps going on, the Church may disband the Inquisition soon. There have been rumours of talks between the cardinals to discuss that subject recently, yet that is not even the Inquisition’s biggest worry.”
Semras leaned closer. “What do you mean?”
“The Inquisition has been struggling to maintain its numbers for at least a decade now. Most people nowadays think the Fair Folk are nearly extinct since the last witch purges decimated your people. No one is interested in joining an institution that seems so ludicrously outdated.” Themas scooted closer.
Semras held back a shudder as the cold iron studs of his brigandine briefly touched her forearms. Devoid of any connection to the Unseen Arras, the iridescent metal numbed her skin.
“Worse than that,” the knight continued, oblivious to her discomfort, “we no longer have enough tribunals to seat one in each of Vandalesia’s city-states. You might live to see the end of the Inquisition in your lifetime, Semras.”
Her brow furrowed. Had Inquisitor Velten lied about the rumours of a new war between their people?
“If they’re losing influence,” she said, “then what happens if they declare a new witch purge?”
“I’m not sure they could, at least not without driving themselves into annihilation along with the last of the Covens. At the very least, they’d need a solid justification to get public backing and bolster their numbers to what they used to be.” Themas eyed her. “They’d need a witch to do something that would push people over the edge.”
Semras paled. Something like a murder by poison, maybe.
Her hair rose on her nape. The sudden feeling of being watched overcame her, and she spun her head toward the staircase. Her eyes caught the end of a burgundy cloak disappearing up the steps.
Semras bit her lower lip. She’d been observed—by Sir Ulrech or Inquisitor Velten? She wasn’t sure which one was worse.
Nerves shaken, she raised her glass and forced a smile for Themas. “You won’t catchthiswitch causing trouble, I promise.”
The knight toasted to her with a warm smile.
Longaftertheirmeal’sleftovers had grown cold, Themas escorted her to a dimly lit hallway on the second floor.
After passing by rows of wooden doors on blue plaster walls, the knight stopped before the last one at the end of the corridor. He lingered, exhaled, then turned to face her. “Miss Semras—”
“‘Semras,’ just ‘Semras,’” she said with a lopsided smile.
After spending such an excellent evening in good company, she felt giddy. Or maybe that was the wine? She might have drunk too much to settle her nerves after what she’d learned. But it was fine, she felt fine, and she’d sleep it off.
Themas didn’t share her good mood. A confusing, contrite frown marred his handsome face. “Semras,” he amended with aweak smile. It faltered, then dropped as fast as it had appeared. “There was one order from Inquisitor Velten I had not told you earlier. I … I should not have kept it secret for so long, I know, but … I-I had hoped to find a moment this evening to inform you, to—to prepare you. But I didn’t. I shamefully beg your forgiveness, even as I know I do not deserve it.”
So dramatic. His words puzzled her, but Semras kept on her smile. “What is this about, Themas? Just spit it out. It can’t be that bad.”
“It … it can.” His throat bobbed. “Inquisitor Velten has rented the entire inn tonight. There’s barely enough space to host us all, so the men have to share rooms. As a knight, I am to stay in the adjacent room to this one with Sir Ulrech, while … while you …”
Semras sobered up instantly. “This is Inquisitor Velten’s room, isn’t it?” She gestured stiffly toward the door behind the knight. “He told you to bring me to him tonight, didn’t he?”
Themas couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I’ll be close. If you scream—”
“There will be no screams.” Anger turned her voice into ice.
The whip of her words struck the knight, and he flinched. Her rage wasn’t meant for him, yet his timid manner fuelled it. “I am a witch, Themas. There will be no screams unless they come from the inquisitor himself.”
He nodded hesitantly. “I … shall rest easy then, Miss Semras. But if I may—a word of warning …”
Worry-filled eyes flickered to her. She hated them; they looked at her like she was some powerless girl and not a woman who could command the Unseen Arras at will. If the Crone-cursed inquisitor threatened her safety, she would not hesitate to call upon it, his ludicrous ban on weaving be damned.
“Don’t—” she began.
“It is said that Inquisitor Velten is known for … for bringing witches he’s investigating into his room at night. Many havewalked free from prosecution afterward. I am unaware of the reason you have joined us, but if you are … with all due respect, if you are in trouble, Semras, then this—”
“Enough. No more.” Her throat tightened painfully around her words. “Not one more word.”
