“Was it… doyouremember? What happened that night?”
Terena hung her head.
“I’m sorry. That was stupid.”
The silence stretched before Terena heard Sonah shift, the rushes beneath her rustling as she moved to lean her side against the bars, then she hung one arm out.
“Your father will come for you, Sonah,” Terena said into the quiet. “He’ll come, and you will be spared. The emperor can’t afford to have such a powerful ally as an enemy by executing his daughter.”
Sonah snorted.
“It’s true,” Terena said. “He needs your father. Now more than ever. He’s about to commit his army in the south. To attack Sparta. Solon’s been planning it for a long time. There’s a legion in Elis right now. And now there’s a new king in the north. And with Lerek murdered…” Terena grabbed hold of the bars with her left hand and leaned out as far as she could. “Your father’s support is crucial to him—Solon needs his army. He wouldn’t risk breaking that alliance because you didn’t get sick from the wine. There could be a thousand reasons you weren’t affected. Your father will come, you’ll see. And they’ll have to free you.”
When Terena stopped speaking, she heard it.
Crying.
“Sonah?”
The girl continued crying, occasionally sniffling and wiping at her eyes and nose.
“Have faith,” Terena urged.
Sonah huffed a laugh. “That’s not—” she sighed, swallowing. “He won’t come, Terena. Because he’s not my father.”
Ormano could not recall a morewretched week.
Not only did he have to watch as the general’s men rounded upthose poor souls in Laurica for gods knew what fate, he’d also lost a great friend in Prince Lerek. He’d been one of the few who treated him like a person and not a cleric, or worse, a second son only tolerated because of his knowledge of the gods.
Now, as he sat scribbling away in his bedchamber above the palace temple, he was sure the week would end with him bearing witness to another of his childhood friends losing her life.
Something sounded behind him and Orry turned, his eyes darting around the shadows hiding from the fire and the flickering flame of his candle.
Nothing.
He frowned, turning back to his writing. He’d been researching the powers of the gods when they’d first appeared—or rather, when the first records of their appearance had been documented by poets and bards, and much later, by scholars and historians.
He’d read most of these already, when he’d first begun his religious studies. At the time, he’d done so to pass the exams and impress his professors. Now, it seemed much more relevant to what had happened with Ren and the powers she seemed to manifest more and more.
Another sound interrupted him, closer this time. Orry turned fully, his quill raised as if he might use it as a weapon. After his search again yielded nothing out of the ordinary, he was about to turn back when something struck him in the head.
He howled, slapping his palm to his injured temple only to cause further injury. He whimpered and twisted, casting about for the offending party. His eye snagged on something near his feet and he bent lower.
A pebble.
What?
He bent to retrieve it when something sailed through the window and connected with the top of his head.
“Gods!” He sprang to his feet and rushed to the window, intent on screaming his displeasure at whatever foul person thought it was funny to annoy—and physically harm!—a cleric.
When he saw Croak waving at him from the narrow walkway, Orry blinked. He rubbed at his head and leaned out of the window.
“What in Gaia’s good name are you doing? You hit me twice!”
“What do you think I’m doing?” Croak hissed. “Obviously, I’m trying to get your attention!”
Orry’s lips turned down. “Well, why wouldn’t you just comein?”
