He catches my biceps.Speaking of close. Our noses nearly touch, and any words catch in my throat. Those bright, hazel eyes of his threaten to bore a hole into my soul. “Isola, I’mserious. I want to help you. Not for the vicar and not for your title.”
A tiny, dangerous part of me wants to believe him. Aches to believe him. I allow myself to be held in place, heart pounding.
“How can I trust you’re not going to run to tell the vicar or inquisitors my secrets the second things get tough?” I breathe, wishing I sounded stronger and less afraid, less hurt.
“I only told them what they knew or would find out,” he counters. “The vicar would’ve found out you’d left with ease, even if I’d lied. The inquisitors saw you handle the fire.”
“But—”
“But I didn’t tell them about you sneaking into the library,” he interrupts me, and I pause.I was right. “Nor about you using the sigil. And I won’t—even though the inquisitors probably saw that, too. I swear, never again will I run to the vicar, or the inquisitors, or anyone with any secret of yours.”
“You expect me to take you at your word?” It’s not that simple, yet…a small place in my heart wants it to be. My heart wants to believe in the good and ignore the bad.
“Yes.” He speaks right to that tiny corner of me.
“How?”
“Is it crazy to think I like you?” He beams at me with a glint in his eyes that does indeed make him look a bit crazy. “That I like you more by the day? Especially now that the vicar isn’t around, making us both act unnaturally?”
“Yes.”We don’t really even know each other. Anything he likes about me is theideaof me. Just like the rest of them…
Lucan releases me, his eyes still locked on mine, with a smile that could brighten midnight. “Then I’m positively insane.”
The remark catches me off guard. He holds me with a look alone. Transfixed. Stuck. Wanting to lean in and run at the same time.
I take a step backward, and then another. This time, he lets meleave.
25
I barely sleep a wink. I know I need to, but I’m too restless, my body practically vibrating between anxiety and outright terror all night.
At breakfast the next morning, Saipha and I are so quiet that when her knife scrapes across her plate, it hits us both like a scream. We lock eyes. Swallow down dry biscuit. And return our focus to our plates. What can we say? I think we both feel far from ready. Especially after getting a taste of what the inquisitors might throw at us on our second night.
Immediately following breakfast, we’re herded into the central atrium.
The inquisitors gather in the front of the hall, underneath the wrought iron balcony where Vicar Darius is currently perched. He grips the railing, eyes gleaming.
“Greetings yet again, my dear supplicants. You have made it through five days of your three weeks here.” He projects his voice so everyone can hear with ease. “It is a delight to learn that none of you have shown signs of the curse, so far.”
So far. Saipha and I share a glance. My focus shifts to where Lucan has positioned himself over her shoulder. Our eyes meet. He arches a brow and asks with a look,Allies?
I shrug noncommittally.
He rolls his eyes.
“But we must be thorough. We must ensure the curse is wrung from the bones of the already dead yet still living. There can be no doubt that when you are gilded, you are free of the pull of Ethershade. To do this, we shall challenge you. Test your mettle and your love and loyalty for Vinguard. You will act in service to the Creed and its Mercy Knights during these tests. Not onlywill you learn more about our city, its history, and our glorious purpose, but each of you will have the opportunity to prove whether you have what it takes to stand among the illustrious ranks of the Mercy Knights, defenders of Vinguard.”
Whispers of excitement. Supplicants stand a little taller, Saipha especially. I’m sure they’re already imagining catching the eye of a knight who will want them to be their page the second they step out of here.
“Now, follow the inquisitors and heed the commands of the knights who keep us safe,” the vicar finishes.
The inquisitors encircle us like a tightening noose as we fall into place behind the prelate. She opens one of the previously barred doors in the atrium and guides us to a stairway. We spiral farther and farther down, and for a moment, I think we’ll hit the basement where Saipha and I were tortured with green dragon poison. We descend even deeper, until the walls of the staircase give way, and a hazy underground metropolis shines up at us like stars through a labyrinth of bridges and catwalks suspended from the hollowed-out ceiling of this massive cave.
We’re at the top of the Undercrust.
“I always forget how big it is,” Saipha murmurs.
“Me, too.” Mum took me down here once, long ago. She was doing some research on the Font when she was still an Earthwarden. It’s impossible to see the Font from way up here. The whole city of the Undercrust is built into stalactites that hang beneath upper Vinguard and on ledges that cling to the walls as they stretch out over a vast abyss. Far, far below, somewhere in that golden haze of Etherlight, is the legendary Font. The last wellspring of Etherlight in the world. It’s the only thing that gives us a fighting chance.
