“I saw her eyes. I know she was one of them down to the core of her soul. Even if she hadn’t yet directly crossed or potentially brought harm to us, she would’ve,” Eira said without doubt. She slipped her hand into her friend’s and gave it a gentle squeeze, trying to assuage some of her guilt. “Ulvarth’s words are a corruption that, after a point, can’t be cut out or cured. There is only one end for it. Whatever innocence she had was long gone.”
Alyss squeezed her hand back and said nothing. Still, it served as reassurance that she understood what Eira was saying, and that she felt heard by Eira. After another second, Eira released her fingers, glanced around a corner, and continued on.
The truth was…she had thought little about that woman’s history. Whether she was a devout believer of Ulvarth, or had been taken in, forced, twisted over time to their beliefs until the contortion felt natural. Eira didn’t care. Everyone who bore the mark of the Pillars, who gave them safety or sympathy, were her enemy and she would be their end.
She rounded another corner and rethought her path, avoiding another close encounter with a few individuals in thealleyway. Fortunately not Pillars this time. Just some more maroon-cloaked men.
Wait. Eira’s heart was instantly pounding. She trusted her instincts too much to think she was imagining things. Which meant only one thing:
They were being followed.
No, more than that. They were being herded. She’d been choosing the paths of least resistance—streets that were small and empty. Every fork in the road had some maroon-cloaked men and women milling about on one side.
Eira slowed her pace as she passed a window. The building was narrow and the windows aligned in just the right way that she could see through to the other side of the street. She grabbed for the door with a black X upon it. Unlocked,thank Yargen. She stretched out her magic and picked up on the echoes in the space.
We have to leave. Now. Before they find us. Get your things. We’re going to the countryside… A brief conversation played in her mind of a family making their flight. For their sakes, Eira genuinely hoped they’d made it out of Hokoh before that X was painted on their door.
Without instruction, her friends followed her into the dark home. Another gift of the goddess was that it didn’t smell like rot. Their escape must’ve been successful.
Eira crossed over to the far window and put her back beneath it. Her friends crouched down. Ducot scurried off Olivin’s shoulder, darting into the shadows.
“What is it?” Olivin asked, sliding up to her side.
Eira slowly pushed herself up, glancing over the window. The maroon cloaks were nowhere to be seen. She sat back down, sinking into the gloom of the unlit home, and stared intently at the opposite window.
“We’re being followed.”
“What?” Olivin breathed. “By who?”
“I don’t know yet.” They didn’t seem like Pillars. Of course, it could be some new sect under Ulvarth’s powers. But the Pillars weren’t known for subtlety…especially not since they had gained the upper hand. “Watch.”
Sure enough, just as Olivin’s eyes swung to the opposite window, the two cloaked men passed by. Though they now wore expressions of confusion. They glanced around before quickly backtracking.
“I don’t know them,” Olivin said cautiously.
“Eira,” Alyss rasped in alarm.
Eira’s head jerked to her, but there was no need for Alyss to explain. She saw what Alyss had been about to warn her of emerging from the shadows in the back of the room. The glowing dots of Ducot’s brow cut through the darkness first. Then the man emerged, a shadowed figure looming over his back.
She slowly rose to her feet. Her hand balled into a fist, frost coating it. She dipped her chin and stared up through her lashes. The figure’s maroon hood became visible in the lowlight, though his face was still obscured. Her friends moved in tandem with her, readying themselves.
“What do you want with us?” Eira asked, trying to keep the question as neutral as possible—not afraid, so there would be no interpretation of guilt. Not demanding, so it couldn’t be perceived as overly aggressive. Despite what Alyss might think, she genuinely wasn’t looking to pick fights. But if the fight came to her…
“Such a tone… You always were quite the spitfire, though. Never could take an order to save your life. Or the lives of others.” The man chuckled. His voice was deep and gravelly, raspy. As if it had suffered from overuse.
“What do you know about me?” Her tone had gone frigid at the mention of her friends’ lives.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
Ducot stepped aside. The man rose his head. Eira stared at a familiar face. A ring of scars lined his neck beneath his chin.
“Mother above. Lorn?”
29
Lorn. Deneya’s left hand. The counterpart to Rebec. He was the secret master for what had been the Court of Shadows.
The last time Eira had seen him had been in the chamber of the Specters, deep beneath Risen, the night it had been attacked by the Pillars. While that night had been hard, whatever Lorn had faced since had clearly been harder. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken and haunted. There was a perpetual furrow to his brow, giving his face the appearance of a hardened soldier in place of the somewhat secretarial image Eira had always had of him.
