Prologue
Milo
Istood in the center of the Third Ring, between the seventh and eighth tunnels, right in the middle of the space between the western and southern stairwells. Hands tucked in the pockets of my navy slacks, I stared up at the enormous bronze statues which had been erected mere days ago. They depicted Dante of House Viper and Adrian Bexley of the Third Ring standing back to back, poised to defeat some invisible foe.
Cosmo had made a big deal of the unveiling, holding a whole ceremony led by the high priests of the temple, claiming the victory for his house and practically adopting Adrian into it. Never mind the fact that she never would have joined him willingly if she'd remained. I knew that, but no one else did. They'd taken the chance to celebrate what they saw as the first victory for their people in a thousand years. They'd cheered and gotten drunk and chatted with one another about how a new age of legends was upon them. But they were wrong. There was no one in all of Sanctuary quite like Adrian Bexley. This victory would not be repeated. It hadn't been meant to happen in the first place. Something was wrong in Sanctuary. Maybe it was theTrials themselves, or maybe it was the people going into them. But something had changed and it would come for the rest of the city soon enough.
I frowned, my eyes dipping to the single white lily laid at the foundation of Adrian's feet. A flower for mourning, a flower for grief. I knew who'd left it well enough. I'd seen them in the crowd the day of the unveiling. Her brothers watched with stony expressions that held just a little bit of anger, just enough to set me to worrying again. But the reaction of her mother was what had me mourning my lost friend all over again while alone in the library that night. Surrounded by a cheering crowd and raucous celebration, before a priest declaring it the will of the Geist to have their children returned, Adrian's mother had turned her face into the shoulder of the middle brother's pretty young wife and wept.
I hadn't gone to them then, even though I should have. I was too much of a coward and lacked the information I needed to offer them any sort of assurance about Adrian's fate. Anything I could have said to offer them comfort would have been a lie. No one truly knew what they'd been up against in those Trials and no one knew where they went afterward.
I'd never cared much for Dante but Adrian had become a close friend of mine in the time she'd spent among the upper rings, preparing for her Trials. I didn’t know the details of what she'd faced and probably never would. Such was the nature of the Trials and the Oath which kept every inhabitant of Sanctuary who knew anything about them at all from speaking of them. It was such a foolish system, obviously meant to keep us all ignorant of the gods' designs. But if there was one thing I couldn't stand, it was ignorance. And I couldn't imagine a deity who would encourage it. At least, not one I would ever worship.
“I’ve done my best, Adrian,” I spoke softly to the statue.
Book tucked in the crook of my arm as always, I reached up to adjust my glasses before peering into the bronze likeness of my dearly departed friend’s face.
“I told your family." I had. When the pair had gone into the final tunnel and the priests had fallen to their knees in prayer while the Vipers began their celebrations, I'd been the only one to consider the family who'd lost everything while Sanctuary gained their champions. "I’ve done what I can to help them settle into the Second Ring, to let them mourn. But they miss you, Adrian. I think they always will.”
I hesitated, my eyes drifting toward Dante before I cleared my throat and stood straighter.
“Briawent with me to tell them. She wanted to do it herself but I…well, given the last time you saw her and what she did, I thought—well—” I broke off with a sigh. “I can’t explain it in a way that would make you understand, Adrian. You don’t know…everything. You never did. I wanted to tell you everything, all of it, because I thought you might see, better than anyone else, what’s really happening here. Sanctuary has always been held together by a delicate balance and sometimes the Heads of the Houses have to make choices that—I’m not defending them. I know you wouldn’t stand for that. What they did was, well, you know. Or you saw, at least, in the end.”
I trailed off, turning away from Adrian’s statue, unable to bear the weight of that heavy bronze stare. Sometimes it still felt like she was here, smiling at me from across the room or reading quietly in the library, waiting for me to join her. But then I would look up from the table or enter the rows and rows of books and I wouldn’t find her there. Because she wasn’t. Not anymore. And she never would be again.
"I'm worried about what comes next," I whispered. Hardly audible even alone as I was in front of the statues, I let my fearshow. Only for her. "I'll do everything I can to protect them. They don't understand and I can't explain—"
I sighed, frustration leaking into my tone. I reached up with one hand, pushing up my glasses as I pinched the bridge of my nose between forefinger and thumb.
"I shouldn't have lied to you. When you asked about the tenth, I should have told you the truth. You deserved that much. But I'm a fool who's always done what he's told and, well, you know now anyway, I suppose."
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling foolish for speaking to a statue as a group of Third Ringers passed me on their way to their next shift, trading wide-eyed glances and overly loud whispers about the First Ringer standing among them. I glared at them as they passed, unaccustomed to being a spectacle, and sighed as I turned back to the statue.
“They never even asked where we got the bronze,” I huffed quietly as I felt a presence approach my other side and knew who it was without turning. “Never questioned how we accessed nearly four tons of bronze practically overnight.”
“They're not taught to question, my dear, just to obey.”
I turned slightly toward my grandmother, frowning down at her as she gazed up at the statue nearly glowing in the midday sun. Her eyes shone with reverence I knew all too well wasn't real.
“Adrian questioned,” I argued. “She doubted. She came to me nearly every day she could get away from her training and spent hours in our library asking questions no one else has in centuries. She didn't accept her faith blindly or ignore it completely as the others do. She wanted knowledge, she wanted understanding, and I withheld it from her becauseyouasked me to.”
Naschaglanced my way at the accusation in my tone but her smile didn't diminish in the slightest. That was always thematriarch of House Avus' way. She was a gentle soul, more prone to critical thinking and introspection than outbursts or breakdowns. The patriarchs of the other Houses seemed to think that made her weak. Her serene smile made her look like easy prey. But Nascha was clever, far more so than either of the other two, and she'd learned long ago that battles were not won in tribunals or ballrooms but in the hearts of the people. So she'd fashioned herself as grandmother to all of Sanctuary, a pious shepherd leading her flock to the light, but no one was perfect. I'd begun to see that more and more since the moment Adrian Bexley dropped into my life.
“You did well with her,” Nascha crooned.
“I did nothing for her,” I snapped, unable to keep the bitterness from my tone.
“You did the right thing.”
I said nothing in response. I merely clenched my jaw and gazed back up at the statue. She'd been my friend, the girl from the Third Ring who I'd willingly betrayed.
“She didn't deserve this,” I argued, fists clenching at my sides.
“They never do,”Naschaobserved, turning away from the statue and folding her arms into her billowing blue sleeves.
“You should tell Olympia,” I told my grandmother, not for the first time, as I turned with her and we both began our trek back through the Third Ring and up toward the First. “It might give her some comfort.”
“You know I cannot.”
