Ilan flinched at the accusation, far more than he had at the ridiculous kiss.
‘I wouldn’t go that far. But she is holy.’ He still craved the order of the Church, with all its peace. If finding that peace meant following Csilla, it would be an easy path to walk.
‘No, it’s a good thing. Someone should be.’
Ilan snorted. ‘Love is for people without a calling.’
‘I had a calling. I still fell in love.’
‘And look where it brought you. It’s a feeling. It will pass.’ Feelings changed. There was a reason why the Church demanded couples be wed before intimacy or asked that clergy make their brethren their new kin. People didn’t take care of each other for life based on temporary affections. A lifetime demanded duty and sacrifice.
He had made a vow to defend everything holy, and if that was Csilla, he could do it until he no longer drew breath. It had nothing to do with something as flighty as love.
Mihály looked unconvinced and not a little smug. ‘If she fixes the Seal, you can see for yourself how you’re lying. I’m sure you kept your glass, yes?’
He had. Even now the weathered shard was heavy in his pocket.
‘And if she doesn’t?’ He didn’t want to think on it, but they had to confront the dark idea.
Mihály’s expression faltered, his brow creasing. ‘Then she’ll need you more than ever.’
37
Csilla
The toll of the cathedral bell shook her from toenails to teeth. It wasn’t the quick call to prayers and service. These slow, deep peals were the dirge of a funeral.
The dull orange sun hung low in the sky as if not wanting to raise its face to the violence. The crowd pressed tight, their bloodlust reeking of sweat and hunger. Csilla’s heart clenched to hear their words, their eagerness to see bulging eyes and a snapped neck. They wanted so badly to know that the creature who had been stalking their streets and haunting their nightmares was about to be put down. To see that the Incarnate had returned, their breach of faith was forgiven, and all was right with the world.
She tried in vain to turn a few children back. The parents scowled and herded them in front, away from Csilla’s worrying hands and closer to the violence.
Around the courtyard, votives had been set up, holding incense to block smells and vials of holy water to purify those whose eyes were about to be sullied by death. Csilla passed a few coins to the priest and took a vial for herself, knowing it was likely from the river and not the broken holy founts. He didn’t even look when she placed the coins in his open palm. His eyes were fixed on the fraying hemp nooses of the rickety platform,hastily built by too-eager carpenters and reluctant priests. It had been decades since anyone had been executed.
The pair of nooses wavered in the slight breeze.
From the long shadow of spires stepped the Incarnate, and an awe-struck murmur rose and fell in waves. His silver armour shone, polished as if he wore his Brilliant soul over his skin, but there were no dents to suggest it had ever been worn in battle. His gaze measured the crowd, and Csilla froze. It was as if he could read each person’s worthiness without even touching their flesh, consecration given breath and form.
Tamas had called him a sham. She herself had touched his merely mortal flesh, but there was power there.
Topaz and diamond rings glittered like the many eyes of the angel hosts, vigilant in every direction, as he raised a hand.
Tamas was led forward, hands tied behind him. The crowd gasped at every stumbling step he took. A few shouted insults and flung splattering handfuls of dark refuse. Csilla pulled her kerchief down more fully over her forehead, shading her eyes as she made her way around the edges of the crowd. No one turned to look at the girl scurrying around them.
A fetid egg hit the front of the stage, splattering yolk and white down the front of the wood. It was followed by another and another, and Csilla winced at the crunch as shells hit wood.
Then there was Mihály. He looked smaller dressed in coarse brown robes, his beard and hair unkempt. But there was still something in his gaze that quieted the crowd, and a hiccupping sob from somewhere in the middle of the mass echoed.
The Incarnate stepped forward.
‘Friends, I understand your fear and your rage. These men were behind the evil that haunted our streets, spilling blood on holy stone. They have damaged our connection to the divine. A sure death is the only fit punishment. We have the blessing ofAsten today. This is the first step on the path that will lead us back to righteousness.’
Csilla shook at how he could stand there and lie. How had the Church not seen his deception? It should have Shadowed his soul like a thunderhead.
He turned to Tamas. ‘Do you have anything to say on your own behalf?’
The older man shook his head. ‘Nothing that won’t be proved soon enough. I’m content with what I’ve done.’
The crowd hissed and shifted at that, a low tide of anger tugging them closer to the platform.
