Is it? My brow furrows as I do my best to piece together the bits of information I now have. No, it isnotall I need to know. Llyr clarified nothing, only left me with more questions. TheVoidhe mentioned is as unfamiliar to me as the moonborn and the umbra, and who is this Mah he was praying to for help?
“Butwhydoes he do it?” I prod.
He faces me, his green eyes locking on to mine.
“Laïna . . .” he begins, but I interrupt him.
“Why should I believe you over the minister?” I challenge. “You cannot expect me to take you on your word unless you tell me why.” I narrow my eyes at him. “And why do you have such knowledge about this, anyway?”
“I . . . Laïna . . .” He cradles his mug in both hands, staring into the steam.
“Answer this, and I promise I will let it go,” I say. When he doesn’t object, I continue. “The minister. Why does he go to such an extent to kill these moonborn babies and burn what must then be innocent people? If the moonborn are not dangerous, Mrs. Willox doesn’t deserve to be burned for giving birth to one.” I stare at him. “What is our minister gaining from all this?”
“I never said they’re not dangerous,” he mutters. Then, a little louder, he says, “You would be surprised at the number of people who find a soul a fair price for power.”
I blink. Is he saying the minister is without a soul? That’s what he called him earlier too, isn’t it? A soulless son of a bitch. But how couldhe, who is so devoted to the Father, do such a thing? It doesn’t make any sense.
“But, the minister despises magic . . .”
Llyr huffs. “What he despises is anyone with more power than him.”
“What about the burnings?”
“Creates fear. And fearful people are easy to control,” he says. “Create something fearful, then pretend you are protecting them from that very evil, and they will do anything you say. Fearful people do not dare to question, and they become as easy to herd as a flock of sheep.” He takes a sip of his tea. “The people of Bronich are convinced the minister safeguards them from evil, while the reality is he eliminates anything that might shield them from the true evil: him and his minions.”
“You do not agree with his practice,” I say. “You say ‘they’and ‘them.’”
He lets out a dry laugh. “I am not a sheep. And neither are you.”
“No, I’m property,” I say, my voice thick with contempt. “At least a sheep can run away if they want.”
“Yet they don’t. You try.”
I scoff. I appreciate his belief in me, but as little as I know about anything, I sure feel no better than those sheep he refers to.
“How can you be so sure about this? Why are you so certain the minister is the true evil?” I push. Although having seen firsthand the dark companions he keeps, I have a nagging feeling Llyr is right. “What if there’s more to this story?”
“Oh, there is definitely more to the story,” he says. “But you need to trust me on this one.” His voice is grim. “He is.”
I’m just about to open my mouth to argue when he pleads, “Please, Laïna, no more questions. The affairs you are meddling in are not safe. The power behind the minister, the umbra, is better not spoken of—not by me, and certainly not by you.” His voice trails offfor a moment, and then he adds, “And no more nightly excursions. Is that clear?”
Seeing the wordless plea in his eyes, I reluctantly nod my agreement. “I promise...” I thrust my chin forward. “As long as you keep your word and secure my freedom.”
He gives me a curt nod. “I will. And, Laïna...”
I meet his gaze.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” He rubs a hand across his neck. “But you are valuable. I do not want you executed.”
I offer him a small smile. “Thank you.” I mean it. It’s not often that I’m valued. “And don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” I wave my hand, dismissing the matter. The only upside to the oaths we are bound to by the brace is that everyone thinks us incapable of thinking for ourselves.
A familiar tingle envelops my left forearm. “I better get going,” I say, lifting my arm. “Master Coperie is waking up.”
Not wanting to risk my master’s fury by being late, I wrap my cloak around myself and walk toward the door. His hangovers often make him volatile, and I know firsthand any provocation will result in literal torture. Besides, I’m not about to mess up now—not when I can almost taste the freedom I’ve yearned for since this cursed brace was locked around my arm a decade ago.
“Laïna.”
I half turn, glancing at Llyr over my shoulder.
