“That light…”
“You saw it, too, then?” So it wasn’t just my imagination? I stare at my palm.
“I saw it,” she says, and a million questions flood my mind.
But before we can say anything else, the inquisitors emerge from the door to the rooftop. It hangs a bit ajar now. The prelate is surrounded by the others.
“Let it be written that none of you have shown signs of the dragon curse,” she declares. “Now, inside with you all.”
There’s no talking amongst the supplicants as we’re shuffled back to the residence hall. Saipha, Lucan, and I don’t even say a word to one another, readily falling into our normal rotation. As I sit on the lockbox by the door during my shift, I decide then and there that I’m telling the other supplicants about the way into the kitchen in the morning. This has gone too far for too long. Risks be damned. They won’t say we’re all dragon cursed and kill us.
Would they?
The thought haunts me, and later in the night, sleep only comes for me out of overwhelming exhaustion. Even then, it’s restless and broken by memories of eyes like cold fire—eyes thatfelt like they looked into my very soul with something akin to recognition.
In the morning, we eat in our shared room in silence. I notice that Saipha’s hand still quivers from time to time, but I avoid pointing it out. None of us are fully recovered from the rooftop experience, and we’re processing the lingering terror in our own ways.
“I have something else for you, Saipha.” I finally have a chance to give her the honeycomb.
She unwraps it, and her whole face lights up. Her hands are steady, and the deep furrows in her brow relax. I didn’t realize how much older the stress was making her look until it’s gone.
“They had honeycomb?” she whispers in awe.
“Yeah, thought it was much more deserved in your belly than theirs.” And I’m further vindicated after what the prelate did.
“Do you want some?” She goes to break off a piece.
“I had some in the larder.”
I sense Lucan’s gaze on me, but when I glance at him, I don’t find the censure I expect. Instead, he looks almost…approving. “Enjoy it,” he tells Saipha with a small grin.
She takes a bite and lets out a soft sigh. “It feels like my birthday.”
“Happy birthday.” I nudge her with my shoulder.
Saipha snorts. “It’s not for, what, four more months?”
“Early birthday.”
We share a grin, and she finishes the honeycomb, chewing on it thoughtfully. For a quiet, peaceful second, it almost feels like we’re not in the Tribunal. Like we can breathe and just be three eighteen-year-olds sharing a little treat.
But it’s just an illusion, and the truth sneaks back in faster than any of us would like.
“Do you think one of the people who died was cursed?” Even though Saipha speaks softly, the question breaks the silence likeshattering glass. Lucan and I both turn to her. She licks off the last of the honey from her fingers, and with it, any sense of levity vanishes. “No one transformed last night. And if someone was going to…surely that would’ve been it. Right? What could push us more than that?”
“Maybe…” I murmur.
“We were never able to find any leads on their sensor, even poking around here for weeks,” Saipha says.
“Sensor?” Lucan interjects.
We share a look, realizing we never told him. I take the opportunity to fill Lucan in on what we overheard back on our second night.
He frowns. “They know someone among us is cursed? No wonder they’re being so extreme.”
“But maybe the sensor wasn’t working properly from the start?” Saipha suggests optimistically.
“They seem convinced it was accurate.”And my father made it, I don’t say. But there is a slight, almost defensive edge to the thought.
