Now she’s nowhere to be seen, and I know why: another lie I told Chronicler Kleora.
Zefyra never helped us break into the Tanmount banking tower, where Alacine’s vampires ambushed us and captured me. After turning, the Chained Sister worked in Sutlis Spire—the Judgment Ward, not the Commerce Ward. From there, I greatly suspect, Zefyra was responsible for switching out the iron shackles that would tie me down during my interrogation, intosilverones. It was those silver shackles I broke with a few drops of my Loreblood, with my blood sizzling and melting the silver.
Still, I had no idea where Zefyra might be now.Still in Sutlis Spire, playing the part, perhaps?
“Without Zefyra,” I voice over the confused murmurs of the girls, “I would have never escaped. Sister Jinneth would have never been returned to you.”
Eyes snap over to me behind the crowd. Their surprised faces tell me they want me to say more.
I can’t dash the hopes and dreams of the smallest girls here—the wounded, scarred, broken lot—so I smile at them. “I am sure she will be along shortly, little Sisters. Hale and triumphant.”
That garners a few weak smiles from the crowd. Over their heads, where no one is looking, Iron Sister Keffa gives me an appreciative nod.
We both know I may be lying. There is every possibility Zefyra’s treachery was discovered and she’s been killed. Again.Another lost soul for the cause,I think with a heavy sigh, keeping my fake smile plastered on my face.
Content with my answer, the girls turn away and face my mother and Keffa. Jinneth effortlessly changes the dour subject by putting an affronted hand above her chest. “WhatIwant to know, dear Keffa, is why you thought it proper to call me arelic. I’m not that old!”
Girls chuckle, some of the younger ones giggling.
Keffa plays the part, stepping back as if she’s been grievously wounded. “Oh no, Jinny, notarelic.TheRelic. You’re one of a kind, Sister!”
More laughter from the crowd. I crack a smile.
My laughter is quickly dashed when I think of the burning questions I have for Iron Sister Keffa. After rescuing Jinneth, I said I wouldkillthe Iron Sister for lying to us all this time about the Relic.
It was a dramatic response. I can’t help but murder the girls’ laughter, speaking blithely as if I don’t care, though my words come out biting. “What I want to know, Iron Sister, is why you didn’t tell me the ‘Relic’ we’d be rescuing is my own damnedmother!” I let out a high bark of a laugh, trying to hide my hurt, but the damage is gone. Everyone’s looking at me and no one’s laughing.
Keffa takes on a serious expression. “Had you known it was your mother you’d be rescuing, Madame Lock, would you have put yourself through so much to see it through? To save a woman you’ve never met?”
“Of course I would have,” I snap too quickly, taking a step forward. My hands bunch into fists and a few of the girls scoot away to clear a direct path to the Iron Sister.
“Or would it have confused you more, or enraged you and made you feel abandoned all over again?” she continues.
Keffa is a wise woman. Unlike me, she doesn’t need anger to get her point across. Her gaze is questioning, curious. I can’t help but back down when she puts it like that.Truehearts flog me, she’s probably right. Would I have cared to rescue a mother who abandoned me as an infant? Someone who never cared for or nurtured me?
With all eyes on me—even my mates—I can’t back down. It’s their stubborn nature, which I share with my mother. “I . . . would have,” I eke out, my voice falling flat and small. I bow my head and shame, ready for Keffa to score the killing blow.
It never comes. Keffa Caernyd is not that kind of leader. Instead, when I glance up past the ridge of my brow, I see a warm smile on her face. An inviting smile. “Then consider it an old woman’s selfish desire. You have made my life whole again.” She tightens her hold over the neck of my sitting mother, squeezing her shoulder. “And besides, relic or not, Idothink your mother can help you.”
I hold my breath and hope with all hope she’s not setting me up for another verbal beating.
Keffa pats my mother’s shoulder, staring down lovingly at her. “After all, Jinneth likely knows more about the Loreblood in your veins anyone else alive, dear girl.”
Chapter 3
Sephania
Jinneth entertains the group of girls for another hour, waxing poetic about her time in captivity among the bloodsuckers. She expertly weaves a thread of torment and resistance while telling her story, garnering stern faces, snarls, and even a few growls from the Chained Sisters.
Just how long has she practiced for this moment? Did she know she would one day be rescued?I wonder, standing near the back archway with my mates.Even now, she twists a story meant to rile up the Sisters and advocate for the cause.
The girls grow agitated as they listen with rapt attention. There’s an expression of concealed worry on Keffa’s face, inspecting her flock while Jinneth talks. She sees what I see: Jinneth is a firebrand and her hate runs deep. For all the kind, nurturing atmosphere Keffa has harbored in this rundown tenement for hurt, outcast lasses, the return of her lover tells of a new chapter in the life of the Chained Sisters.
Jinneth is ready to embark upon a campaign of violence and vengeance to the bloodies who captured her and kept her from her people for so long.
Listening to my mother, I start to pick up conflicting details, and wonder if she’s telling the whole truth of her imprisonment, or if there isn’t some showmanship and politicking going on behind her words.
She tells of the cruel ways the vampires treated her, yet also says they practically forgot her existence for years on end, only coming to bring her meager scraps of food every three days.
