"No, I don't." I decided to tell him exactly what I thought. "You were deceived. Whoever developed the formula must have killed many people before perfecting it to become the sacrament."
He smiled, and his eyes shone with maniacal fervor. "I have proof. The sacrament opens the mind to receive the dragon call. I wasn't born with the gift, but the sacrament opened a channel of communication, and I heard the call. That's how I got into the flight academy. That's how the others got in as well." He leaned forward as much as his manacles allowed. "Now tell me that it is not divine."
"It's not." I kept my face impassive, but the truth was that I was rattled.
The drugs enhanced the gift. Or created the illusion of enhancement, at least. That explained why the failed cadets had been found gifted in the first place. They'd been dosed before the pilgrimage, artificially boosted past the threshold.
"How can you say that?" He looked like he wanted to strangle me with his bare hands, and the only reason he hadn't leaped for me was the shackles holding him down.
"Because it didn't last," I said. "You failed the tests."
The aggression faded from his body, and he slumped in his chair. "I ran out of the sacrament, and I had no way of getting more." He straightened in his chair and squared his shoulders. "It was all preordained. Elusitor had other plans for me. I was to become the supplier of the sacrament to new converts arriving at the academy."
"How many?" I asked.
He clamped down.
"You know that I'm going to get it out of you. So why prolong your suffering?"
"Twelve," he whispered. "Including me and those you've already caught."
I doubted he was telling me the truth, but for now, I let it go.
"How many are in Podana and other places?" I asked instead.
"I don't know the exact numbers, but the faithful are everywhere. When the time comes, all will rise."
A chill ran down my spine. "When the time comes for what?"
"To cleanse Aurorys from the demons controlling it." The words came out with strong conviction. "To destroy the dragons and those bonded to them and convert everyone else. Aurorys belongs to Elusitor, and Elusitor keeps his promises to the faithful."
Not a big surprise there. That was what every captured Sitorian said. At least they didn't lie about their end goals like their politicians did.
"I know what Elusitor promises." I stood, the chair scraping against stone. "Death, destruction, and the extinction of everything that makes life worth living."
Something flickered in his eyes. It wasn't doubt, but a small crack in the certainty. "You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly." I moved to the door and knocked twice, signaling the guards. "You were manipulated, drugged, and fed lies until you couldn't distinguish them from the truth. Give me the names of all the converts you know, and I might send you to check out the kingdom of heaven expeditiously. I only wish you could return and tell every other moron who believes in the Sitorian lies whether it was worth betraying your people for."
35
SHOVIA
"Challenging the mind is as important as challenging the body. Without constant pressure, both grow weak."
—Captain Lydia Venkin, Academy Instructor
The tactical formations manual was putting me to sleep.
My eyes glazed over the page without absorbing anything other than the headlines. It was something about flanking maneuvers and optimal approach angles, information I'd known cold two days ago but now kept slipping through the convoluted pathways of my mind.
It was hard to concentrate on aerial combat theory when someone had just tried to murder my best friend for the third time and had almost succeeded. My eyes were drawn to the purple and yellow bruises on her neck where the attacker had tried to choke her to death.
They were wrapped around her throat like a grotesque necklace, the shape of fingers still visible.
My stomach clenched, and I forced my eyes back to my book.
I'd seen those bruises a dozen times today, and each time, I had the same visceral reaction. The same flash of rage and helplessness that made me want to hit something, or better yet, kill something.
