A hushed murmur filled the air, mumbles of agreement and recognition. Silas narrowed his eyes. He generally considered the gods only good enough to go fuck themselves, so he wasn’t exactly a regular worshipper, but he got the impression that her greeting wasn’t the standard opening sentiment. It never was. Every service he’d attended was a little different, a littlemore… weighty. Something in how she spoke seemed constantly layered, as if she were having several different conversations with the crowd at once and all of them were of the gravest importance.
Maybe that was a symptom of all the masks she wore over that striking face, an ability to say something different with every one. It was a remarkable talent that made every worshipper believe she was speaking directly tothem.
Petra Zaskodna was a liar, but she was a deeply compelling one.
Silas watched her move through the motions of accepting the offerings on the table, all of them donated by worshippers seeking favors from the gods. All the while, she spoke in that calm, carrying voice about not taking Glory’s gift of life-giving light for granted, and how that light existed in every life, every relationship, every choice made throughout the day.
As usual, he only half-listened, since he found the sentiment rather trite, but he enjoyed the sound of her voice and her graceful, practiced movements as she blessed the offerings.
The sunrise crept into the panes of the stained glass window behind her and those that loomed over the pews, inch by inch. Each welded shard of glass, once dark, blazed with color — candy yellow, violet, navy, orange, and electric teal. Colors splashed down around her, crowning her golden head in a wreath of rainbow light, even asshebegan to glow.
It was almost unnoticeable at first, but hesaw it. It was his favorite part of her services and the image that glowed on the backs of his eyelids when he tried to sleep.
Silas inched forward on the uncomfortable bench, his gaze fixed on her striking features, refusing to miss even a second of her glorious transformation. It still annoyed him that she’d hidden her face under an impressively complex glamour the night before.
It was cute, the way she thought he wouldn’t know exactly who he was dealing with, and the face she’d crafted wasn’t bad. Butthisface.Thiswoman…
Silas bit the tip of his tongue as he watched her tanned skin begin to radiate its own light — gentle at first, then a blaze. The air over the crowd’s heads heated until a wave of summer heat crested over them, stirring hair and loosely clutched shawls. He wasn’t the only one at the edge of his seat when the white-hot shape of her bones radiated from beneath her skin.
She was magnificent.
She wasterrifying.
His blood rushed so fast in his veins that he couldn’t hear the rest of her service. He watched her set the kindling at the base of Glory’s statue aflame with a single touch and wondered how much she’d restrained herself when she simply scorched his lapel.
His little goddess was pure, destructive magic.
Exactly what I need.
The dawn service was quick, designed to be enjoyed before the start of a busy day, and all too soon it was over. A long line of worshippers shuffled into the red carpet that delineated the center aisle, waiting for their turn to approach Petra as she stood in front of the altar, offering bowl in hand.
While she was occupied, Silas slipped out from his row and cut a swath through the crowd, which couldn’t decide between staying for a longer look at the High Priestess or leaving as quickly as possible.
It would have been a pain to get through if people didn’t hurry to get out of his way, usually at the cost of those around them.
He strode confidently toward the front of the cathedral, his gaze trained on the wooden screen and its hidden door. Realistically, he knew all he had to do was wait for Petra tonotice him and he’d have her undivided attention. He didn’thaveto sneak into the bowels of the cathedral, let alone at the busiest time of the day.
But where was the fun in that?
Worshippers swarmed the marble floor in front of the altar, either waiting for their turn or stopping to light one of the hundreds of candles in the bronze racks on either side of it.
Acolytes milled around, speaking quietly to people who sought them out and, perhaps unknowingly, guarded the way to the door.
Silas stopped by one of the racks. He glanced to his right and was a tiny bit put out that Petra hadn’t noticed him yet. She was engrossed in a hushed conversation with an old woman, their heads bent as they spoke about whatever it was people who believed in bullshit cared about.
He lingered there by the candles for a while, until a middle-aged dragon wandered up, wings folded against his back, to light a candle with his own breath and whisper a prayer into the blue flame.
Silas stepped around the dragon and, with a tiny nudge of a shadow, sent the entire rack tumbling into him. Tea candles in small violet glasses tumbled down the dragon’s front and onto the floor with a fiery clatter. Shouts of alarm went up at the same time the dragon’s clothes did.
Speaking in a mild voice, he said, “Someone should really weigh those racks down.”
One of the acolytes went running for a fire extinguisher while another tried to help the vexed dragon pat out the flames. While they worked, the red runner that led to the altar caught fire as well. The shouts got a little louder.
Silas slipped behind the screen.
Chapter Four
He watched quietlyfrom his shadowed corner as Petra closed the door to her wood-paneled office. It was fascinating, seeing her set aside a mask.
