So many shadows. Dozens, hundreds, blocking Leesa from my view as the darkness swarms us, plunging us into gloom. I can’t see more than an inch in front of my face.
My eyes close as I hear her voice. Tightly controlled, filled with fury, and undeniablyhers. It rings out over shocked cries from the crowd, crystal-clear. “You will not brand her.”
My vision clears, just enough. The crowd is turning to her, inritus either backing away or staring in awe, crossing themselves at the darkness that pours from Selene’s hands.
One elder murmurs what might be a prayer, touching her fingers to her forehead. Others follow, then many. And if I knew the old ways, if my father had not banned them from Merrick’s lessons years ago, I would follow their lead in a heartbeat.
She strides to the bottom of the dais. Her eyes are pitch-black, her wings spread wide. As her eyes flicker to me, I bow my head.
Glorious. Even as fear fills my lungs. For her. Anger, too, that my own hands were tied so easily.
Sol casually steps up to take a space at her side. Matthias too. And Merrick, the three of them forming a wall between Selene and the guards who charge forward, dropping Ryn and drawing their swords.
Strands of darkness wrap around them, locking them in place as securely as if she had tied them down with rope.
Wendlyn gasps as the shadows holding her in place tighten further. Not enough to cause true pain, but a threat nonetheless. Her expression flickers—not in fear, but something approaching fascination.
Selene’s voice is pure fire, deep and echoing as she climbs the steps, addressing Wendlyn. “There is a line. And if you wish for my help, you will not cross it. There will be no branding today.”
Wendlyn’s head tilts, her words verging on curious. “Not even by order of the king?”
Selene’s voice lowers, until only those of us close enough can hear. “Asteria has no king. And I will not help those who do not deserve redemption. Decide which is more important, and decide now. His laws, or Hala’s judgment.”
Wendlyn’s eyes lower. “The choice would be obvious.”
The shadows do not move. “So you would think.”
The two women lock gazes. Wendlyn’s lips lift into a small smile, and she inclines her head. “There will be no branding today. The girl is free to go, for now.”
Selene doesn’t move. “She will be free until she reaches eighteen winters. You will not touch her before then.”
If Selene can fix the Never, Leesa will never have to face the branding at all. Ryn will have her far away by the time it becomes an issue once more, if it even continues once Petyr regains access to the outside world.
If she can’t, then it will not matter either way.
Understanding gleams in Wendlyn’s eyes. She bows her head, lower this time “Understood. I would appreciate an opportunity to speak with you privately, if you are so inclined.”
Selene’s eyes flicker to mine. The darkness softens, though her voice remains cool. “You may walk with me. Tell your men to stay back. None here will face any retribution.”
The shadows slowly curl back into her hands, pulling back and revealing stunned faces. Ryn leaps up the steps, dropping to his knees and pulling Leesa to him as she collapses forward. “I have you. Gods, Esa. It’s alright.”
Selene meets my eyes, the message between us silent as Wendlyn approaches her. Her eyes shift, the darkness withdrawing. “Let us walk, then.”
Chapter thirty-nine
Selene
We walk in silence. Petyr’s fiancée strolls beside me as if she was not just standing on a stage, about to brand a young girl’s face. “I suppose you think I'm a monster,” she says evenly.
“Would you blame me?” Beside her cleanliness, I feel filthy. I ran from the house without stopping to wash, and I crave a bath. I focus on that thought, trying to stave off the anger that pulled the shadows from me.
I would have killed them all, without thought. “She was little more than a child, and yet you would have scarred her. What reason could there possibly be to justify that? To justify any of it? A military in a land that cannot be left is little more than a whim. The lives of the people here are worth more than a whim.”
Wendlyn’s footsteps are delicate, the slippers on her feet no match for my own bare toes as I slow my pace for her to keep up. She offers a small smile of thanks, and I do not return it. “These are dark times. Petyr faces the task of keeping his people alive. Not only alive, but to give them a purpose.”
“They can choose a purpose for themselves.” We cross the bridge leading to the castle, but Wendlyn does not walk toward the gates where the steps lead to the great hall entrance. She veers off instead, delicate steps heading toward a side path. “Where are we going?”
“I had thought to walk around the outer walls.” She pauses to glance back at me. “We can go inside, if you would prefer. But this way leads to the compound, if you have any interest in seeing it. The path loops back around—it’s a pleasant enough walk.”
