That rage nipped at my fingers again.
The other Seers in residence watched us pass, grief shimmering in their red-rimmed eyes. I nodded to a few with whom I was friendly. Whose names I’d snatched and seared into my memory after the first one perished all those weeks ago.
To my shock, they each pressed a single palm over their hearts, then turned them outward—the gesture Elessarum made to one another to show unity.
Not caring who witnessed my treason, I returned the signal.
Several servants in the periphery mirrored us. Lyriasthe was there too, blending in with the rest.
And suddenly, I didn’t quite feel so alone.
It wasn’t just a comfort; it was a count. A tally of those who wanted changes to happen. Who was willing to risk a subtle statement under the monarchs’ noses.
We took our seats to the right of the empty thrones, and I was grateful the Koron and Korona weren’t already here.
How dare they show their faces when it is their fault she died.
My nails dug into my palms. I pressed my tongue into my cheek and faced forward. Agony speared between my ribs as I was forced to behold the place upon which my friend would burn.
Maelsar brushed past a moment later, settling between me and some other nobles I didn’t know. Ithuriel sat at the far end of the bench behind us, hands folded in his lap, peering into the distance without really focusing on anything.
What did he think about Heraphia’s death? Was he glad for it? Did he hope that finally, Zuriel would remarry someone fit for his noble house?
I didn’t have long to linger onthe questions.
A group of priestesses in billowing robes emerged from the greenery. In the middle, the acolytes carried a wood-carved platform on their shoulders, moving with slow, graceful steps. Atop it rested Heraphia.
Two moonstones sat atop her eyes, peering up at the sky she would never see again. Her hands folded peacefully across her belly. Fine silk adorned her slender frame.
Hot tears burned as the acolytes pivoted to the side of the pyre. The High Priestess—for that was who it had to be, with hair whiter than any I’d ever seen—appeared behind them, haloed in her power. Her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. She walked with a holiness about her, like she’d never once cursed the Goddess. Like she truly was the Radiant Mother whose steps touched Her earth.
The second priestess took up space on the opposite end, hands tucked in her robes. Yet she didn’t hold herself with that same effortless, sanctified poise as the High Priestess.
Around them both walked the Koron and Korona.
I shot the latter with a hateful glare.
Vaeron’s hand wrapped around my wrist.“Don’t do or say anything. This was the one compromise I had to make to ensure that the second priestess could speak about peace.”
“She shouldn’t be here at all,”I snapped back.
“I know,”came his reply.
“My darlings,” the Korona began, and I gritted my teeth at the use of that word. There was nothing darling about us. At least not with how she treated us like birds, caged to sing at her whim. “A great tragedy struck the heart of our home. One of our most powerful Seers, Heraphia of House Ilytharï, died using her blessed power to aid us in exterminating the beasts who dare to claim part of Keleti as theirs.”
I glanced at Ithuriel, wanting to see his reaction to claimingHeraphia was noble. His expression hadn’t changed from when I’d looked at him earlier.
The acolytes shifted my best friend lower, shuffling around to place her body on the pyre. With deep bows, they backed away, framing the outer edges of the two priestesses.
Iaoth continued her drivel. “But fear not! The Goddess has a plan, for she sought to bring an even more powerful Seer to House Räviel. Which, as you know, is the house from which I come.”
Vaeron’s grip on me tightened, and down our bond, he willed me to find my center.
But I was unmoored in the tempest that lashed my emotions.
The Korona’s gaze fell upon me. I did not flinch. Instead, I lifted my chin in pure defiance and glared with hatred in my heart.
“She has yet to See anything so useful as Heraphia, but with time, I am sure she will change the tide of this war.” Iaoth bit out every bitter word. Yet the threat, the suspicion in them locked my spine straight. Vaeron too stiffened—almost imperceptibly.
