She blinked and read it again. As she did so, another message came in.
Don’t make me wait, little goddess.
The blood drained away from her face in a woozy rush. Petra shoved the phone back into her pocket and stared, sightless, at her half-finished plate.How?How had he gotten the number to her phone? The implications of that were… sweeping. Horrifying.
She had to hold her breath to stop herself from hyperventilating there at the high table as she considered everything that would mean. Either she and Max hadn’t covered their tracks as well as they thought they did, or Shade was much, much better at his job than she could ever have imagined.
“Your grace?”
Petra swallowed a scream, shoved it down deep enough to echo in the cavern of her belly, and turned her head to meet the questioning look of a young acolyte carrying a tray.
“Do you want me to ask the chef for something else?” The acolyte, no older than eighteen and newly initiated, was a sweet-faced dragon named Yelizaveta — a rarity amongst the sea of witches and arrants who dominated the Temple’s hierarchy. Pale gold eyes flicked back and forth between Petra’s half-finished plate and her superior’s face. “I’m sorry you didn’t like dinner. Please let me?—”
“I’m fine, Yelizaveta,” Petra sighed. “Really. I’m just tired.”
Life was hard for young acolytes. They were the workhorses of the Temple, given the menial and often humbling tasks, and tended to be abused to varying degrees by those who forgot what it was like to be in their position. Like Max before her, Petra had made itveryclear that new initiates were supposed to report any hazing or misuse of power directly to her — and those who mistreated them would be met with the harshest possible punishments.
That, of course, had the unintended consequence of making her a bit of a mother hen to the gaggle of wide-eyed devotees who came from San Francisco or were transferred to St. Emaine’s from elsewhere. On the whole, they were good kids.
However, they loved tohover.
Yelizaveta lingered by her elbow, unaware of the jolt of alarm that ran through Petra at the feeling of yet another incoming message.
“But your grace, I noticed you haven’t been eating as much,” she whispered, wings folding and unfolding anxiously against her back. Like all initiates, she wore a pale yellow robe over her clothing. The color stood out starkly against her night-time coloring: a navy so deep, it looked like a starless sky.
Petra could only offer her a wan smile. “The stress of the visit is getting to me, I think. Here—” She stood up from her seat and gently extracted the empty tray from the initiate’s clawed hands. “I know you haven’t had dinner yet, so how about you finish what I can’t?”
The dragon’s eyes went as wide as saucers as they took in the spread of plates on the table — more than enough to feed several people. Petra hated waste, so all Temple leftovers were served to worshippers in need the following day. Not even a hungry dragon could eat enough to make a dent in what they gave out.
“I can’t do that,” the initiate protested. “I’m not allowed.”
Technically, no, she wasn’t. Initiates were expected to eat together in the kitchen after dinner was served to the rest of the staff, and usually far simpler fare than what everyone else got.
Normally Petra would have been more cautious about breaking a stupid taboo like that, as well as the implication of favor it might give, but she was anxious, exhausted, and had to sneak out to meet a mad demon.
I might die in a few days,she thought, firming her spine.So who gives a fuck?
“Sit, initiate,” she commanded.
The room went curiously silent as all eyes turned to watch the girl sit nervously in Petra’s silly, gilded chair while the High Priestess herself stood at her elbow, a sticky food tray tucked under her arm.
Her pocket buzzed again. Petra drew her shoulders back and faced the room. Projecting her voice, she announced, “All of you have been working exceptionally hard the past few weeks to make our cathedral ready for the Protector’s visit. I can’t express my appreciation enough.” Pausing to lay a hand on Yelizaveta’s shoulder, she continued, “But as you all know, nothing would be possible without the hard work of our initiates. In light of that, I’m ending dinner service early tonight. Initiates, please drop off your trays, grab some chairs, and join Initiate Yelizaveta at the high table to enjoy a well-earned break.”
It was a credit to her staff, or perhaps how well her staff knew her, that there was only some minor grumbling when she added in a steely tone, “Everyone will be bringing their own dishes, as well as all communal plates, bowls, and cutlery, to the kitchen tonight. If I find out thatanyoneleft their work for another, I’ll speak to you personally tomorrow.”
Buzz, buzz.
“Thank you,” Yelizaveta whispered, head down, as her fellow initiates scrambled to leave their trays in the kitchen and race back to the dining hall.
Petra gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Enjoy your dinner.”
Her pocket buzzed again, but she ignored it as she strolled out of the dining hall, the tray tucked under her arm, and toward the kitchen. A chorus of appreciation and breathless smiles greeted her as the gaggle of initiates ran by her.
I’m not beholden to you,she thought, imagining Shade’s dangerous smile as she informed the kitchen staff about the change to dinner’s usual structure.
She wasn’t certain how he’d found out about her secret phone. She didn’t know if he was watching her from the shadows. She had no idea what he wanted with her power or what he’d do to her when he found out she had no intention to go through with their bargain.
But she wasn’t powerless.
