I turn to Lucan on instinct to tell him, and the movement startles me.I turned to Lucan, not Saipha. All my life, I’ve been turning to my best friend, my only confidant—and it’s not that I wouldn’t want to tell her, I do. But, for the first time ever, I havesomeone else to turn to. The number of people I can trust has doubled.
Lucan’s expression washes all the racing thoughts from my mind like a storm. He looks borderline murderous.
“I suspected something was coming, but not this. This could’ve been a challenging exercise to find supply caches, not a fight for our lives—pitted against each other.” Lucan throws an inquisitor a not-so-subtle glare. If the inquisitor notices, he doesn’t react.
“Breathing in Vinguard means fighting for your life.” I paraphrase the familiar refrain from those who’ve survived the Tribunal. My stomach twists painfully. Is this what they all must think to justify what was done to them, what’s being done to their children?
“We should find a place to claim as our own. Somewhere safe and warm.” Saipha wraps her arms around herself, rubbing them. “Then we can find supplies and hunt for the caches. Maybe the little shed in the greenhouse?”
“Everyone will be going there.” Lucan’s tone suggests he’s not interested in even trying that option.
“The study rooms, then?” Saipha suggests.
“We need somewhere that isn’t so obvious.” Lucan casts a wary gaze toward Cindel and her group. They all shoot us daggers with their eyes before trudging off. “We won’t sleep at night if we feel like we’ll be jumped any second.”
“We can take rotations like before,” she counters. “We just need something to barricade a door with.”
I’m silent as they speak, thoughts whirring again but in a totally different way.Safe. Saipha’s choice of words sticks with me.A safe hiding place is behind the crossbow rack. Callon’s first tip was essential. Maybe this one will be, too.
“Let’s go to the artificer tower,” I say low so only Saipha and Lucan can hear. Others are shuffling toward the different areas of the monastery, casting wary looks at other supplicants.
There’s a tautness in the air, like a bow being pulled back. We’re all quivering, waiting to shoot in different directions.
And when the first person begins to run, we all do.
After slowly starving us, the inquisitors have successfully conditioned us to expect the worst. Elbows are thrown, people are pushed down the stairs. I pull Saipha and Lucan into a side hall, wanting to get out of the main flow as quickly as possible. The fact that Cindel wandered off first and I now don’t know where she is fills my veins with dread.
We take the back passages that loop along the outer walls of the various towers and wings that compose the monastery. It’s a longer route to get there, but it’s safer.
“Why the artificer tower?” Lucan asks. “You have something in mind. I can tell.”
“A hunch,” I say between heavy breaths as we start on the final length of stairs. From my search on the first day, I remember the various rooms in this tower—one had the supplies to make crossbows. It’s the only place I can think of that might have a crossbow rack.
My stomach sinks when we enter the room. There are no bows at all, just shelves. I scan once and then scan again. The first clue Callon gave was precisely right—even if they changed something, like stair colors, the fundamental guidelines have been helpful. I refuse to give up so easily.
I press my lips together and focus, knowing our lives depend on figuring this out.Did they move the rack, or is there another meaning to what he said? Either is possible.
“What are we looking for?” Lucan steps in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. I hadn’t even realized I’d been pacing between the shelves. “Tell us so we can help you.”
“A crossbow rack,” I say.
“A crossbow rack?” Saipha repeats. “The only place that has enough weapons to warrant a rack is the training area, but nowthat I think about it, the bows are all on hooks.”
“I know…that’s why I came here, hoping there might be a rack next to where you could make one.”
“I know where one is,” Lucan blurts.
“You do?” I turn at the same time as Saipha, my voice pitching up with excitement.
“I saw one when I was looking for a quiet place to practice with the sigil I discovered inside the dragon statue that first night. This way.” Lucan leads us out of the room and back down the stairs. He takes another quiet, dimly lit hallway and comes to a stop before a rack for a single crossbow mounted on the wall. “Here. Is this what you’re looking for?”
A replica of a crossbow has been cast completely in steel. A wide wooden panel surrounds it, embellished with carvings of flying dragons impaled with bolts. A steel placard is mounted at the top. It reads,In honor of the first Mercy Kill.
“It hardly qualifies as a rack.” The disappointment is obvious in my voice.
“But technically it is,” Lucan points out.
“How is this going to help us?” Saipha glances over her shoulder and down the hall. “At any second, someone could sneak up and trounce us. We need more than a decorative crossbow—we need the real deal, at the very least.”
