Ezer’s hand dropped to her sword.
Some part of her sensed that in this dream, in this labyrinth …
She knew how to wield it.
She knew how to kill with it in a thousand ways.
She had just knelt to run her fingertips across the marking, when the air behind her shifted.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and suddenly she could feel the weight of eyes upon her back.
As if she were not alone in here, after all.
There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but force herself to turn and face whatever was watching her from the darkness.
Her hand on her blade, Ezer stood.
She could have sworn she saw a shadow slip around the corner.
‘Who … who’s there?’ she whispered. ‘Show yourself!’
Perhaps it was only her mind playing tricks on her. Only the fear coming to life.
But then the ground kicked up, and with awhoosh,a sudden gust of wind soared down the tunnel.
And her torch went out.
Ezer woke with a jolt to the smell of burning wood, her body warm and …
Was thatsnoring?
The dream faded like candle smoke. She yawned, opened her eyes in full …
And promptly sat upright so fast her head spun.
She was in the middle of a large room, the walls and ceilings made of white stones with ornately carved wooden beams. A wall of windows to her right – the source of the soft light spilling into the room – was covered by sheer white curtains from floor to ceiling. Lovely, with delicate golden stitched runes that swirled across the fabric.
The Citadel,Ezer thought.
She was surrounded by rows of ornately carved wooden beds covered in plush white blankets – and sprawled bodies. All women, some as young as thirteen or fourteen. Others could have been twenty, like her. None were much older. Sacred didn’t last that long in times of war.
They were all asleep from the sound of snores and steady breathing.
Some wore grey, the color of Scribes.
Some wore white, with color-backed patches to depict their pillared god, while others had golden hoods. Eagleminders, like Kinlear.
They were allSacred.
Ezer reached up to rub sleep from her eyes, then hissed through her teeth at the hellish pain that suddenly blossomed across her face.
Gods be damned.
She’d broken her nose, and with another terrible throb came a wave of memories as she pieced everything back into place.
The Aviary.
The raphon.
