“Rude.” Saipha narrows her eyes at him and selects a javelin from the rack. I think for a second she considers flinging it at him.
“And you havealsobeen ‘off,’ Isola,” Lucan says, raising one brow at me.
“And you haven’t?” I fire back.
Lucan considers this much more thoughtfully than I expected. “I suppose I have…” He stares at the corner of the room for a long minute. “We’re all on edge. Let’s just keep doing what we can while we wait for the next challenge. There’s only two to go, and then we’re done with the worst parts of the Tribunal.”
Later that afternoon, there’s a small reprieve when we have a lecture from the head librarian of Vinguard. He runs a small association that’s dedicated to maintaining and recording the histories of the city on behalf of the Creed—the histories they let citizens read.
Better than the vicar.
He’s a short, balding man with ill-fitting robes that look like they’re an attempt at some sort of draped fashion but miss the mark. He prefers to pace the stage in front of the lectern, rather than stand behind it as he speaks.
“Every historical record we possess speaks of Valor’s skill with Etherlight. Not only could he identify the locations of the Fonts—which he did when he settled Vinguard upon the deepest and most robust one remaining in the world—but he was also one of the last humans to possess the ability to wield Etherlight withoutsigils to focus the power.”
“When, exactly, did humans lose the ability to use Etherlight directly?” Daisy asks.
“It’s difficult to pinpoint an exact time, as we have lost many recorded histories in tandem with the loss of our lands and the lives of our forefathers to the blights that assault us. We know there were originally four Fonts with cities built upon them—one among the clouds, one in a vast sea, one deep within the earth, and Vinguard. But the histories of the other three were lost with them.” He totters and paces in the opposite direction. “Based on this limited documentation, we have concluded that humans’ connection to Etherlight was disrupted as the scourge spread Ethershade and extinguished the other Fonts.”
His attention lands on me, and I move uncomfortably in my seat. Lucan shifts next to me, his hand sliding closer to mine. He knows my discomfort when it comes to Valor. He knew it well before the Tribunal. I once considered how well he knew me—how closely he paid attention—unnerving. But now, it’s a surprising balm. I almost wish he’d reach for my hand because I know what the lecturer is going to say next before he says it, and I know it’s going to be targeted right at me.
“Before Valor left to battle the Elder Dragon, he swore that, should he fail, he would return to usher Vinguard into a bright new age. That there would come a day when the scourge would be banished and the Etherlight would flow to empower every citizen within our walls. But Valor didn’t return…not until six years ago, when a human drew upon Etherlight without a sigil for the first time in centuries to slay a dragon. A human who now possesses two golden eyes, as it is said Valor did.”
Every set of eyes that turns to me is like a stone. Up and up they stack. When the lecture is over, I can barely walk from the weight. My shoulders are heavy, and my gut feels hollow. Like I’ve been worn out from the inside, crumbling in on myself.
…
The next morning is not like the rest.
Lucan pulls Saipha and me aside following breakfast. He shuts the door to the small study room on the second floor of the library and waits, clearly listening. Saipha and I remain silent, though we share a wary look. His caution has us both on edge.
“How do you two feel?” he asks as he eases away from the door. I assume he was listening for anyone walking nearby and heard no one.
“Fine.” I glance between him and Saipha.
“I’m all right.” She nods but somehow sounds like she wants to fight about it.
“Seems like a lot of nerves about someone overhearing just to ask us how we are.” I regard him skeptically.
He obliges my skepticism. “They’re starving us.”
“What are you talking about? They’ve been giving us the three normal meals a day.” Saipha’s tone is already annoyed. She wanted to go to the training grounds, again, to “hit something.” It’s the only thing that seems to keep her from snapping at us both these days.
“The frequency is the same, but the quantity is not. They’ve been gradually reducing portions every day since the first day, so it wasn’t obvious.”
Saipha places her fists on her hips with a huff. “If you don’t want to train today, you could’ve said so.”
“We should hear him out,” I counter.
“Maybe you can waste time, Isola, because you’re Valor Reborn, but some of us actually must work for what we have,” Saipha snaps. I open my mouth and then slowly shut it. Not about to let the conversation rise to a fever pitch.
The harshness of her words settles on her, and Saipha pressesher palms down on the table in the study room, murmuring a soft, “Sorry.”
“He’s right.” I realize it for the both of us. The agitation. The empty feeling in the pit of my stomach that seems to never abate. I thought it was just guilt and nervousness.
“I know what hunger feels like.” Lucan leans against the wall. His gaze grows distant, as if he’s seeing straight through the present, back to a past that turns his usually brilliant eyes lackluster.
“What did the vicar do to you?” I whisper. What the vicar did to me in an attempt to achieve his ends is too fresh for me not to ask. I’ve only just begun to understand Lucan’s hatred for the man I thought was a father to him. Now I suspect the vicar was more of a captor.
