“Excuse me?” Cindel blurts, utterly aghast.
“The Font demands you as you were when you came into the world. Be grateful we’re not demanding more.” At the prelate’s final word, the inquisitors step back to the outer edge of the ledge the spring is upon.
Supplicants regard each other warily, but Cindel is the first to move. She crosses to a bench and begins undoing the laces on her vest. Her expression is one of placid calm, despite herobjection seconds ago. An ever-dutiful daughter of the Creed.
Others follow her lead.
I step off with Saipha and Lucan, moving with them instinctually. We cluster around one bench, starting with our shoes, placing them underneath. Then we remove our vests. Saipha has a moment of hesitation before she pulls her shirt over her head. I follow suit, trying to look calmer than I feel as my knuckles graze over the leather-and-silk brassiere covering my breasts as I pull off my shirt.
I can’t stop my eyes from darting to Lucan as I untie my trousers. My cheeks flush as his gaze briefly meets mine before he tugs his shirt up. He doesn’t look the slightest bit uncomfortable.I mean, I wouldn’t if I were a guy with a body like his…The fabric glides over his flat, muscular stomach, and the flush from my face flares through my entire body. He turns and drops the shirt on the bench.
My heated skin goes ice-cold as I openly stare.
In my periphery, I see Saipha open her mouth to say something to me. Make fun of my gawking, likely. But then her eyes dart to Lucan and also stick.
His body is a constellation of scars. Long, deep gouges. Pale and thin slashes. Raised and gnarled. Some look fresh.
“Who did this to you?” I breathe.
Lucan freezes, but he doesn’t look at either of us. His eyes are downcast, shoulders rigid. “I am to say they are from the dragon attack I survived as a boy.”
Yet it’s everything he doesn’t say that has me balling my hands into fists so tight my nails dig crescents into my palms. Suddenly, the pain the vicar has caused me is trivial. I can endure for my own sake. But when he hurts the people I care about? The heat returns, but it’s completely different. I suck in a slow, angry breath through my nose, trying to remain calm.
Lucan has removed his trousers and steps to my side. Hisfingertips touch my white knuckles lightly. “Don’t.” His eyes are full of pain, but there’s a faint smile curling the edges of his lips. He moves away, wading into the waters of the pool alongside others. The haze of Etherlight quickly consumes him, and he fades from sight.
“Bastard.” Saipha strips off her pants and follows Lucan. We both know she wasn’t referring to Lucan.
“Yeah,” I murmur, pulling off my own trousers to nothing but a small, silken pair of shorts. The Font warms the air temperature to a perfectly comfortable level, even just in my smallclothes.
“I’m surprised you’re here.” Cindel’s voice nearly startles me out of my skin. I didn’t even hear her approach.
“Where else would I be?” I only glance her way, keeping my attention on Lucan and Saipha. Mostly Lucan. All I can think of are the scars he’s worked so hard to hide.
“I would think the great Valor Reborn would be going to the Font itself. Not merely basking in its glow like the rest of us.” Cindel speaks loud enough that others glance our way. “I would hate to think that you have an opportunity to strengthen your power and you wouldn’t take it. For the good of Vinguard.”
“Indeed.” The vicar’s voice slithers across the open space. An unwelcome third party to this conversation.
I freeze, head turning his way, bracing myself. Or, maybe, holding myself back from launching forward in anger. There the vicar stands, barely visible in the haze. His hands are folded at the small of his back. Here, his golden eye shines as bright as the sun.
“Come, Isola,” he commands.
An objection rises from my gut and burns my tongue as I remember vividly what happened the last time I was alone with him. I press my lips into a line to prevent myself from saying all the things I want. From cursing him for all he’s done, to demanding to know what he did to Lucan so I knowexactlywhatI’m going to someday make him pay for.
“Oh, it looks like youwillhave a chance to make yourself stronger. How good for you and for us all.” Cindel’s words have soured. Like she can’t decide if she’s glad to be proved right or perpetually annoyed that I receive special treatment.
“It is good for me.” I try to stand taller as I stride past her to follow the vicar.
“You think you’re so strong, don’t you?” she mutters under her breath. “You’re nothing without him, Isola Thaz.”
I freeze for a heartbeat, nearly turning on her. I want so badly to put her in her place. To tell her that I drew Etherlight without a sigil. But I bite my tongue.She’s not worth it. And something about sharing that fact widely feels…dangerous.
“Isola,now.” The vicar snaps, and I follow. I don’t know what he intends, but instinct tells me it won’t be good.
43
The vicar guides me back across the bridge to the first platform. We head toward the wall where the shelf originates, but instead of taking the stairway up again, we turn right.
“I didn’t have an opportunity to meditate and cleanse my body.” The moment the word “body” leaves my mouth, I’m reminded of how exposed I am. Part of me wants to curl in on myself and hide. The other part wants to stand taller. I will not give him the satisfaction of shame because there is nothing for me to be ashamed of. I am me. Wholly and unapologetically.
