I pause, spoon hanging in midair. “Undercrust?”
“You say it likeI’mthe special one here.” He laughs. It’s a warm, full-bellied sound.
“I don’t meet many people from the Undercrust.” Even though travel between the upper and lower halves of Vinguard is freely available, it’s rare for citizens to traverse the two. Those who live below do so to avoid the skies. And those who live above see it as a quiet shame to retreat into the depths. We’ve given up so much of our land, few of us can bear the thought of ceding one plot more.
“Me neither,” Saipha adds.
“We five are.” He gestures to the other people who were sitting at his table when we arrived, introducing each of them.So this is the little group he’s forming…Good of them to let us join, though. “You’re looking at all the eighteen-year-olds this year rounded up from the city underneath the city.”
“Only five?” That surprises me, considering many women go to the Undercrust for the duration of their pregnancies—the one time doing so isn’t met with judgment from those living on the surface.
I can’t imagine having a child. Partly because I’ve never beensure if I’m going to survive long enough, be it curse or dragon attack or something horrible befalling me for not actually being Valor Reborn. But also because it’s hard to imagine bringing new life into this world.
“Most people in the Undercrust want their children to grow up with the sun,” Horowin says.
“They think it’ll make them braver,” Yenni, a girl with a thick, dark braid, adds.
“Is this the first time you’ve seen the sun?” Saipha asks. I hope on her behalf the question isn’t offensive…because I want to know as well.
Horowin nods. “My first time on the surface. I’ve studied it a lot, though.”
Others nod as well.
A guy named Ulven says, “I’ve been up once. But just during the middle of the day to avoid the dragons. Too bright up here for my taste.” Given the ghostly hue of his skin, I don’t blame him. He’s even paler than me, and my skin sometimes seems like it burns at the idea of the sun. “I’ll be very happy tending a farm in Font light when all this is over.”
The idea that someone could live their whole life and never hear the bells. Never experience the horror of a dragon attack… It’s so foreign, these people might as well be from a different world.
I’ve a thousand questions I want to ask, but I don’t have the chance. Everyone’s attention is suddenly on the entrance of the refectory. I follow their wide-eyed stares.
Vicar Darius holds my gaze and smiles.
21
For a breath, I think the vicar’s about to single me out. His gaze lingers on me for just a second too long.
But just as I brace for it—whateveritis—he shifts his stance. His eyes sweep across the room. Cindel nearly leaps from her chair the brief moment his focus is on her.
“Supplicants, future of Vinguard, join me in the chapter house.” The vicar pivots on his heel and leaves, blood-red robes billowing in his wake.
Cindel is the first on her feet. Her freshly formed group of sycophants scrambles to keep pace with her as she strides for the door. The rest of us are much slower, shoving the last few bites of food in our mouths.
As we head out, I try to get a feel for how the other supplicants regard the vicar. A few appear pleased to follow—though without the same level of zeal as Cindel and her cronies. Some drag their feet, but most seem neutral.
The vicar mentioned that lectures would happen while we’re here, but I haven’t given it much thought. The inquisitors have kept me busy enough, so far. My stomach knots as I realize their tests and trials are only just beginning, especially because they already have proof one of usiscursed.
I force the thought away as we pass the dragon tapestries in the atrium, unable to ignore their lifeless eyes staring accusingly at me with every perfect stitch. Even if the automatons behind them are disabled, knowing they’re there and all it takes is someone who knows the right sigils to arm them once more keeps me on edge.
Lucan comes up along my right side, completely silent, like it’s normal for him to be there. I shoot him a wary look from thecorners of my eyes. Saipha at my left does the same, leaning forward to meet his gaze.
“I’m sure the vicar will want to see that I’m properly looking after you,” he says.
“Like you ‘looked after’ me when you quickly told the inquisitors that I was the one who handled the fire without being burned?”
“They have eyes, Isola.” He’s suppressing a roll of his.
“Or you wanted to make sure you had time to sabotage the other sigils so I couldn’t get them,” I say under my breath and leave it to fate if he hears or not.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He has better hearing than I thought. Good to know.
