A cold mask shutters the flash of genuine emotion on her face. Cindel never lets more than a second of weakness show. Her wrist quivers in my grip, key locked in her fist. “What doyouwant?”
The other supplicant looks between Cindel and me through their thick lashes set against light-brown skin. After a quick assessment, the black-haired individual seizes the moment to regain their footing and rub their nose with the back of their hand, smearing a trickle of blood.
“It’s not worth it,” I say.
“I never thought Valor Reborn would shy away from a fight.” Cindel looks me up and down.
“Save the violence for our real enemies: the dragons. We have a lot more to gain by helping each other. Like knights on the wall.”
Her lips twitch downward at my mention of them. She must hate that I’m making her look bad. But then, she shouldn’t make it so easy.
I grab her closed fist with my other hand, feel her body shake in anger. “Give it up.” I could tell from the beginning that Cindel has no right to the key. She’s always fighting a scowl whenever she’s in the wrong.
“I’m not going to give this to you just because you’re ValorReborn.” She lowers her voice, as if afraid someone else might hear her being anything less than deferential to me. This is her eternal torture—trapped between her resentment of me and her fealty to the Creed, which tells her to revere me as her savior returned.
I don’t relish in this dynamic, but I’ll use it to my advantage. “I’m not keeping it. I’m going to give it back to the person who found it.”
For a second, I think she’s going to swing for me. Instead, she uncurls her fingers, and I take the key. I toss it to Cindel’s victim, who snatches their lifeline out of the air and promptly scampers off, throwing a quick thanks over their shoulder. I don’t blame them. Got what they needed and got out before anyone else could add bruises.
“So noble.”The way Cindel says it, I know it’s not intended as a compliment. “Such a luxury to be idealistic.”
“Luxury?” Feels more like a suffocating responsibility.
“Not all of us are guaranteed a position in the Mercy Knights.”
I scoff. “I wish.” It’s my turn to drop my voice to a hush and lean into her personal space. “You really think the vicar is going to let me just don a dragon-blood cape and stroll onto the wall? To let anyone doubt the strength of thesavior? I’m going to have to fight for a spot just like you. If I want a life after this Tribunal, I’m going to prove I am as good—no, I’mbetterthan everyone else here.” I say that last bit louder, for everyone’s benefit.
“Good. I look forward to seeing how I measure up against thegreat Valor Reborn.” Cindel steps away.
“You know, I meant it—we’ve a lot more to gain by working together than fighting each other.” It’s futile to say to her of all people. She’s always seemed to harbor a dislike for me. Even before I was Valor Reborn and we were just two young girls living a couple of blocks apart. Her father’s another high curate and seems to dislike mine just as much as she does me.
Cindel slowly shakes her head and checks that the pinnings of her hair haven’t come undone. I’ve never missed how she wears it in a similar style to what the vicar requires of me: pinned up in braids around a bun. “Might is earned through conflict and sacrifice. I’ll be praying you have the will to be who Vinguard needs, Isola.”
“I appreciate your prayers.” While I’m of average height and Cindel slightly taller than me, I try to give off the energy of staring down at her. “But I have the blessings of Valor himself. Save your breath for someone who needs it.”
“So confident. Let’s hope it’s not misplaced after all our dear vicar has invested in you.” Her gaze shifts over my shoulder and slightly up.
At first, I think it’s some kind of ploy to distract me, and I don’t move. But, when her focus remains stuck on whatever it is, I finally turn slightly and glance over my shoulder. There, with forearms resting on the railing of the mezzanine, is Lucan.
I fight a groan.Of course he’s shadowing me. It was too much to hope he wouldn’t just because he didn’t stop next to me when I did at the dragon statue.
But then I realize that it’s notmehe’s looking at. Lucan is staring down Cindel like a Mercy Knight would stare down a wounded dragon in the Nightgale Mountains. It’s absolutely murderous. And, judging from Cindel’s uncomfortable shift, she sees it, too.
“It’s so unfair,” she mutters under her breath. “You get to be Valorandhave him.”
My head jerks in her direction, and my jaw falls from shock. Cindel isn’t even looking at me. She’s transfixed on Lucan. No…it’s like she’s looking straight through him. At what he represents: power, status, a connection with the Creed. I can practicallyseethe fantasy she’s constructing where Lucan is the vicar and she’s his doting wife, the spiritual mother of Vinguard.
With a noise of disgust, Cindel shakes her head and strides away before I can object. “Benj,” she calls out, and a man that looks like he could be Lucan’s cousin comes running from between the shelves. Benj has slightly darker hair, but still with lighter highlights. His eyes are a light brown, however, not hazel. It’s so obvious what she sees in him I nearly gag. “Find me another key,” Cindel commands, and away he runs.
Shaking my head at her as she walks out, I look back up at the balcony. Lucan is gone.What in Valor’s name was that about?Usually I’m the one Lucan is glowering at. So why did he look like he was ready to shoot down Cindel where she stood?
I can’t leave the library fast enough, sweeping my gaze at every turn for any other sign of him.
The back of the room connects to a tower of dusty artificer workshops that I wander through until I find myself at a greenhouse, hot and humid upon entry. It’s strange to see a room with this much glass in Vinguard—the ceiling and one wall are made of thick, clear panels to allow light in for the plants that grow throughout. Lucan enters just as I’m leaving, and I make it a point to say nothing to him. I’ve nothing to say.
Lunch is called by way of another booming announcement over the copper boxes that project inquisitors’ voices. I make a quick pass through the refectory to grab a flat roll, but I don’t linger. I use that time when others might be taking their breaks to search inside every toolkit in the workshops, then backtrack to paw through the potting shed and garden bed in the greenhouse.
I hunt for a key like my life depends on it. Because it just might.
