“I’m sure the horrors you’ve heard were accurate. Especially the most unbelievable of them.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry.” She laid a hand atop mine on the table, squeezing gently. Her gaze flicked between me and Cyph, who reclined in his chair on her other side. “Truly, what you’ve all survived—what you’re doing each day here—it’s admirable. I’m going to recommend Titus votes for your appointment.”
“Thank you, Vale.” I squeezed her hand in return.
Then, I exchanged a knowing glance with Cypherion.
“Do you have any insight into Titus’s premonition? The one that made him suggest this system of delegates in the first place?” Her eyes narrowed slightly, then quickly resumed their wide innocence, but it was a moment too slow. I lowered my voice to ask, “What do you hide, Vale?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “What do you mean?”
“I saw you in the Rapture. Titus defers to you before making decisions. Your opinion is vastly important to him. There’s cunning in your smile and kindness in your heart, and apparently a wealth of secrets hidden behind those lovely green eyes of yours. I’d like to know what.”
“I am the apprentice of Titus. My purpose is to support him. To collect insights that may help or harm him and the Starsearchers through whatever means necessary.” Absently, she ran a hand over the place where her shoulder met her neck, rubbing circles across the skin hidden by her hair. “I find cunning and kindness to be useful tools.”
And though it didn’t feel like the whole truth, it was enough for now. I liked Vale, and I didn’t want to interrogate her. “That is also admirable.”
A breeze gusted across the table, rifling the garland and lifting my hair.
Cyph gasped. His eyes were locked on Vale—on that place where her neck met her shoulder—a murderous calm I rarely saw in him slipping over his features.
He dropped his voice, leaning in. “You’re a slave?”
I craned my neck to see what he was looking at. The wind had blown Vale’s hair back behind her shoulders, revealing a halo of stars pressed into her skin. They were etched over in silver ink, as if to hide the scar, but from this close it was clear it had beenbrandedinto her.
Vale eyed us both, that cool evaluation seeping back into her sharp-featured face. “I am not.”
Cypherion and I exchanged a wary glance. That stamp on her skin meant she belonged to one of the temples of the Starsearchers. Or at least, shehad. The archaic practice of the temples claiming young girls was supposed to have ended centuries ago, but in some far stretches of the continent it lingered. It was rare but not unheard of to meet a girl with one of the temple symbols branded into her skin.
The sight of it now had my gut churning. It was disgusting and a complete violation of a warrior’s power and rights to commit anyone to such a life unwillingly.
Vale’s hands shook, but she clasped them in her lap.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” I soothed.
“I’m not ashamed of where I’ve been,” she snapped. Her usually soft eyes turned brutal. “I did belong to a temple once, yes. Maybe one day I’ll tell you of that. But it saved me. And when I fell into Titus’s household, he had the scar covered for me. I am not a slave.”
“Vale.” Cypherion was calm. Hesitant. “You don’t have to share it with us. But you can tell us the truth.”
A wall snapped up behind her eyes. Though Cypherion’s voice dripped with nothing but kindness and she was recommending my appointment to Titus, it didn’t mean she trusted us with her personal strife.
“There’s nothing to tell,” she deadpanned. “I am an employee of Titus and lucky to be so.”
Cyph’s throat bobbed. “Not all cages look like prisons.”
Vale locked her gaze to his. “Not all chains are meant to be escaped.” She pushed back from the table before either of us could respond. Cyph shot to his feet, but he didn’t go after her. Instead, he tracked her through the crowd and up the stairs into the palace.
Then, he turned the opposite direction and stormed toward the training yard.
Chapter Twenty
Ophelia
The day melted into night,a pink-streaked sunset fading to deep violet, speckled with stars. The lawn became a collage of dancing bodies, partners floating gracefully as the music slowed to a gentle melody.
A strong arm wrapped around my waist, tugging me close.
“Here,” Malakai whispered in my ear, spinning me and placing a delicate wreath of flowers on my head, arranging my hair so it fell perfectly. “Beautiful.” He leaned to kiss my cheek, adding in a low voice, “Just like the wildflowers that used to stick in your hair.”
