Despite her proximity, my gaze drifted to the hall where they’d taken Kit.
Rosie hummed a soft sound. “You’re worried about him.”
Worried wasn’t the right word.
I was concerned, fearful, and filled with dread about what lay ahead, but I also felt profoundly at fault. Kit ran from this place, then spent his life hiding from it. What right did I have to drag him back here? Did I truly believeour efforts would do enough good to outweigh all the bad? And there was so much more bad yet to come…
When I didn’t answer aloud, Rosie carried on. “He’ll be waiting for you when he’s done, you know. When it’s your turn.”
I nodded.
Minutes dragged by. I tried not to listen, too afraid I would hear Kit’s cries of pain and unsure what I would do if I did. This was not something I could stop for either of us. That knowledge sat like a stone in my belly until the hooded figure who had taken Kit away finally came for me.
Rosie offered a wave I didn’t have the heart to return as I allowed myself to be led deeper into the building. When the hallway opened into another room, I froze at the sight before me. In the center of the space, seven branding irons protruded from a brazier.
The Right Hand and Merrick sat together on the far side of it, watching me through the bowl of fire. A third chair was positioned with its back to me, and a shirtless man stood beside it, similarly facing away. He turned to my entry, and I wondered how I could have mistaken his dark curls and rigid posture for anyone else.
When Kit’s eyes met mine, I wished immediately to be near him. But the open seat seemed ominous, and my desire to stay away from it and the licking flames moored my feet in place.
Four cloaked figures lurked, two on either side of the brazier, like executioners awaiting their next victim. They were the Sentinels Kit had described when explaining the events to come. The tallest of them took a curled sheet of paper offered by the one beside him and held it out to read.
“Penwell Oliver,” he announced as though I hadn’t already been summoned. “Step into the light.”
My shoulders slumped as if making myself smaller might convince them to look past me. It wasn’t how Kit told me to behave—far from it—but no amount of deep breaths or reminders to hold my head up and keep my eyes level made the task any easier.
“Oliver?” Levitt repeated before I could speak. His red hair looked as bright as flames in the firelight as he turned toward Merrick. “Penny the farmhand,” he continued. “What was his surname, I wonder?”
I glanced up and caught Merrick’s narrow glare before he fixed it on the ground instead. “Unimportant, Your Eminence.”
“Unrelated, you mean? I doubt it.” Levitt waved his hand toward me. “He evenlookslike you, Merrick.”
The statement chagrined my brother, who appeared as ready to flee this place as I was. He didn’t answer the accusations as Levitt continued.
“I trust you have good cause for keeping such secrets. And while you’re at it, an explanation as to why this young man is Kit’s recruit instead of yours?”
Merrick’s answer eked out through gritted teeth. “I have ample cause, Your Eminence, and explanation I will gladly give later. Privately.”
Kit had turned away, so I barely heard him mutter, “Perhaps you couldn’t see his potential over your own massive ego.”
Across the fire, Levitt’s stern face broke into a smile as he chuckled. “Very well. Merrick, we’ll speak about this later. In the meantime, we know who presents this recruit. Step into the light, Penny. We’re ready for you.”
At last, I walked forward, taking timid, creeping steps until I arrived at the chair. I didn’t sit, instead waiting forsome sort of instruction. I lingered long enough to cause Kit to look aside.
His face was drawn, and his mouth firmly shut. There was the slightest pull around his eyes, some mixture of worry and pain. My gut twisted as my gaze traveled downward, already fearing what I would see. Kit’s chest was inflamed, his skin stained red beyond the borders of his phoenix tattoo. The raised design was freshly charred, the flesh raw and peeling. Tears pricked my eyes at the sight, but I blinked them away before tugging off my shirt and lowering myself into my seat.
I gripped tightly to the sides of the chair while the Sentinel took the first iron from the fire. My attention fixed on the glowing orange tip that hissed and flared angrily as the cloaked man turned it toward me. My heart thrashed in my chest, and I wished for something to bite down on or a gag to silence the screams building in my throat, but there was nothing except my own weakening resolve.
Kit had warned me about this. We’d talked through it, but nothing could have prepared me for the dark room and the ghoulish shadows cast by dancing flames.
On the other side of the brazier, Merrick looked on. He didn’t think I could do this, but I would prove him wrong. I only wished I felt as confident about that as I had weeks before.
“Penwell Oliver, repeat after me.” The Sentinel’s voice echoed around the empty room.
My parted lips quivered as he spoke the words Kit told me he would.
“I pledge my heart, mind, and soul to the service of Eeus.”
Swallowing, I did as I was told, almost grateful for the need to focus on the words of the Oath and distract myself from the panic threatening to carry me away.
