“The only thing I remembered when I came to after the attack was my name…and just my first one at that. Everything else was hazy.” He pauses, his movements and words becoming weighted. “So it’s not like I could go off looking for my family.”
And then he asked to join the Creed, because he had nothing else. And the vicar turned around and made him his son… I would bet my entire life that it was because, in Lucan, the vicar saw an opportunity. A desperate and impressionable young man who just happened to be the same age as his Valor Reborn. Someone the vicar could mold to follow me into the one place the vicar couldn’t go: the Tribunal.
“I’m sorry.” I mean it, too. So many in Vinguard secretly blame me for not fulfilling my role faster and killing the Elder Dragon already. As if every death that’s happened since being named Valor Reborn is my fault. As though that’s not a guilt that I, too, bear.
“Sorries won’t fix anything.”So he is one of those types…One of the people who shrugs off the weight of the world like it’s nothing because you “can’t do anything about it” even though you’re quietly being crushed to dust.
“I know.”
“But I’m sorry, too.” His tone has completely shifted—the words feel a bit lighter and come easier.
“Oh?”
“If things had been different, I would have helped you spend the afternoon with your mother. I owe the vicar everything. I can’t go against him, Isola. He controls my life as much as yours.”
Maybe more, I think and stare into the middle distance, through the plants. I wasn’t expecting his kindness and didn’t really ask for it…or want it, for that matter. What can be said? We all wish things were different? Understatement of the century.
Before I can find a response, shadows emerge from the door we entered through. Three inquisitors stride with purpose to where we sit. I slowly shift, muscles tensing in case I need to run.
I can’t see the eyes of the woman in the front because of the shadow her hood casts on her face, but I can feel them darting between us. “Who between you held the fire without being burned?”
I’m about to answer when Lucan says, “Her.”
My stomach drops, and my eyes swing to him. Lucan doesn’t even look my way. After helping me, patching me up, baring parts of our souls, he just outs me like that? I want to shoutat him, but my anger would undoubtedly be used against me. Flying off the handle is something a dragon cursed would do.
I know, logically, he had to do it. But it’s hard to be logical when at the first opportunity, he’s eagerly offering me up.Again. It doesn’t matter that I was about to take responsibility. He had to ensure it.So much for budding comradery.
“Isola Thaz, come with us,” the woman in the front commands in a tone that tells me she’s not about to take me to a healer to get patched up.
“Why?”
“Based on your display tonight, we’ve reason to believe that you might be cursed.”
My whole body goes cold, jaw slack. I’m amazed I can still form words enough to say, “My hand was in my jerkin. The flames were from—”
“If you do not come willingly, it will only earn more marks against you.” The woman is so matter-of-fact, it’s painful.
“I…” Objection or further attempt at explanation will only make things worse. There’s only one thing I can do now, and that’s go with them. I stand and lie when I say, “I have nothing to hide. Let’s go.”
The inquisitor nods, turns, and starts back for the door. I follow, the two others with her close behind. There are no faces and no names to them. Just specters ushering me back into the darkness of the hall.
Lucan says nothing as they take me away. I don’t even bother looking back at him as the cold shadows envelop me. I’ve no idea where they’re taking me. Or what they’ll do to me.
I rub the center of my chest as all my previous fears return.Why didn’t the dragon kill me that day?It probably wasn’t because I am some prophesied person. It was probably because the dragon recognized me as one of its own. And now I’m alone with the people who are experts at finding dragon cursed.
My worst nightmare is coming true.
14
My stomach is in my throat as the inquisitor leads me up the stairs. I press my lips shut to stay silent. They’re not going to answer any questions I have, and I doubt they’ll think better of me for asking.
Brave like a Mercy Knight, I tell myself.Brave like Valor.It offers little reassurance. I work to keep from trembling at all costs, clenching and relaxing my fists, controlling my breathing to calm the frantic beats of my heart.
At best, looking terrified will hurt my chances of being invited into Mercy. At worst, it’s going to make me appear even more suspicious.
The only way I can salvage this is by exuding a strength that I’m honestly not sure I have anymore. Drawing that much Etherlight put my body in revolt. My back is still agonizing, even with Lucan’s makeshift medicine.
Can’t imagine how bad it’d be without it, though…
