The woman looks aghast. She continues to speak for those ontheir knees. Those looking at me as if I’m a goddess come to life. “Sir, this is Valor Reborn. We cannot—”
“And she stands in a room coated with scourge dust. There are processes for what has occurred. Take them to the interrogation room,now. Doing only that is already a deviation from protocol.” He barks his orders.
“Take us for interrogation,” I say before the woman can object again. Arguing is only going to prolong the inevitable. The woman looks between me and her leader uncertainly. I give a slight smile. “I am not afraid. As Valor Reborn, I gladly uphold the laws of Vinguard.”
“Do it,” the leader commands again.
Their training takes over. They do exactly as ordered and encircle me. One man pulls my hands to the small of my back, grabbing my wrists and holding them in place. Another keeps his hand on the hilt of his dagger, though he doesn’t draw it.
Lucan is behind me. I can’t see him, but I can hear his footsteps. Like me, he doesn’t resist. We’re escorted through the dark, dank halls that slope upward. The smell abates as we leave the sundering pits and continue down the long hallway. Sunlight streams in through little holes punched through the ceiling to what must be the Upper City.
One such porthole illuminates the room where Lucan and I are taken. There’s nothing else inside the small stone space, leaving me to wonder about this room’s original purpose. I don’t think interrogations are all that common in Vinguard—not outside the Tribunal, at least. Probably why we had to walk for a while. This must be part of a sentinel tower similar to the one Mum and I were taken to after the dragon attack, before the Convening.
“Wait here.” The commander leaves, and the rest of the knights follow. Once more, a door is closed on us, and a heavy lock engaged.
My knees give out.
Lucan is at my side in an instant. He grabs me, but his grip is awkward. Rather than keeping me upright, he manages to ease us both to the floor. I hunch and hang my head. My arms tremble as my palms press against the cold, hard stone beneath me. Lucan gently loops his arm around my shoulders, one hand hovering above my arm, as though ready to catch me should my elbows unlock.
“What were those flames?” he whispers.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head and try to gather my scattered thoughts. “I… If I had to guess, it’s something lingering from the artificer sigils.”
“You didn’t draw any for fire.” He states the obvious.
“I know. But maybe one of the symbols on me smudged into something new. That’s exactly why the Creed doesn’t want untrained people messing with them. It could happen. And I… I don’t know enough sigil symbols to recognize what might be there.”
“You know as well as I do that sigils need to be precise. It’s unlikely you ‘smudged’ one sigil perfectly into another.” A pause. “Isola…did you just draw Etherlight without a sigil?” Lucan has never revered me like the others. Even though I’ve only just come to realize as much, hearing him regard me now with awe feels like a wound.
“I…” I shake my head. “I don’t know what happened.” I manage to lift my gaze, meeting his eyes. Worry gives me a convenient excuse to move the topic of conversation off me. “Do you think other supplicants were affected by the scourge?”
“You know what I think.”That the vicar sabotaged us…probably hoping for just this outcome. His arm tightens around my shoulders. I’ve never had someone hold me like this before. Saipha always is there for me. She always has my back. But this is something more. This feels like…
Like if I were to lean on him, he wouldn’t pull away. As thoughhe’s a break against a storm I didn’t even notice on the horizon.
“It’s all right,” he says softly, tenderly. “No matter what it was, I’m here with you.”
I want to lean into his aura of safety. Into his sturdy yet warm hands. To collapse and sleep for a thousand years only to wake and have him be the first thing I see.
And what feels more dangerous than actually doing any of it is how badly I want it. I’ve never desired the comfort of another as desperately as I want his in this moment, and the idea of it…of risking myself in that way—of creating that sort of a vulnerability…is almost too much. Especially when it comes to this boy whom I’ve always seen as the vicar’s son. Even if my heart knows so much more about him now, so much that changes everything, my head has to catch up.
The door opens again, and the prelate stands in its frame. “Lucan. Come with me.”
“What?” He frowns. I’veneverseen him openly defiant to authority before. The knit in his brow and firm set of his jaw suit him. It ignites a spark in his eyes that lends a maturity beyond his eighteen years.
“You will be interrogated separately. Now, with me.” She dips her chin. Lucan doesn’t move. “I said,now.”
He begrudgingly stands. The moment he’s gone from my side, I’m cold again. I tense back up, push myself into a seated position. Lucan gives me one more wary glance before following her, the door closing and locking behind them.
I’m not alone for long, nor am I surprised to see who comes in next.
“So, you finally did it,” Vicar Darius says quietly the moment the door closes. The glint in his eyes immediately puts me on edge. He stalks across the room, coming to a stop a step away, looming over me. The light halos him, as radiant as it is horrible. “My Valor…”
“I don’t know what I did.” Terror has smothered my voice to a whisper.
“You focused raw Etherlight without an artificer sigil.”
“I actually drew one,” I say hastily.
