“You claim to be so accepting, to treat your servants like equals, yet you send for us at any given time of the night. For your pleasure.” Something sparks in her eyes and my stomach turns. Oh gods, I’ve almost forgotten that she’s also Eefa. It suddenly makes sense now—Lowri’s constant tardiness, her reluctance to join us for meals in the dining hall.Lowri, however, alwayslooked away from me during dressings—this monster is quite the actress.
“Did Ellynne know?”
Lowri scrunches her nose. “Of course not. That bitch was more loyal to you than she’s ever been to me. She let our father send me away to that cruel duke in Darragh. Even when I sent her letters telling her how miserable I was, she didn’t seem to care. She told me to tough it out.”
My hands pause on the laces of the tunic. That doesn’t sound like Ellynne at all.
“When my powers manifested, I kept it a secret. To protecther. Yet she left me there with that cruel man. She deserved what she got.”
Her voice is so harsh, so cold. Nothing like the Lowri I thought I knew. “But she got you your position here.”
“I gotmyselfmy position here. I created my alter, Eefa. From a portrait hanging in my husband’s house, if you’ll believe that. I askedEllynne to vouch for me, Lowri, after I murdered my husband and stashed his gold.”
No wonder it had been so easy for her to kill Ellynne. It wasn’t the first time she’d done such a thing.
“I’d already joined the Zenith, so worming my way into Paramount with Master Iywan practically in power was simple. Ellynne didn’t question my sudden appearance here. She accepted it because she felt guilty about failing me as an older sister.”
Gods… I shudder as I imagine Ellynne’s reaction when her own sister attacked her.
And there’s the mention of the Zenith again. I draw in a breath to ask about it, but Lowri speaks again.
“Briony will be here soon, but keep this in mind: if you try anything, it’s not just the guards who won’t hesitate to hurt you.” Her focus darts down to the metal band on my wrist and then back to my face, a sneer of satisfaction on her lips.
A chill runs through me.
“You’re no pampered princess down here.”
With that, she marches off, leaving me to my own thoughts again. I examine the bracelet closer—there are symbols etched into the metal. There is no definitive clasp or place to unlock it. Then it dawns on me: these are runes. But what for? It’s unlikely to be a dampener—why would Lowri go through the trouble of removing the one I already wore?
My heart constricts at the possibility that it could be an amplifier like in the tale of the Lightweaver, Osha, who went in search of something to strengthen her powers. I’m reminded of the blaze that took out my brother. At the monstrosity I was as a little girl with no control of my powers. No different than I am now. I clutch my manacled wristagainst my churning stomach and begin pacing the cell, my bare feet sticking to the damp floor with each step.
The sound of boots stops me from pacing. I turn as Briony approaches with Lieutenant Bronn and Cadet Aela again. Unlike the Lowri I thought I knew, Briony is no different than when I’d always been so quick to dismiss her. The guards carry high-backed chairs that appear to be from a dining set.
Briony draws closer, the ruby of my amulet around her neck winking at me. The rage that fills me is so swift, I’m rendered breathless. “Give me back my necklace,” I hiss.
“I can’t do that, Your Highness. You put this on, and the result will be catastrophic.”
“What the fuck are you getting at?” I demand.
The guards place the chairs facing each other and retreat silently.
“All in due time,” Briony says sweetly.
I stare down my nose at her. “I’ve never trusted you.”
“You’re very clever then. Now, sit.”
“I don’t answer to the likes of you.” I fold my arms across my chest and remain rooted to my spot.
Briony points toward the ceiling “Up there, you are the heir to the throne.” She points at the floor. “Down here, I am the High Priestess of Lugda, and youdoanswer to the likes of me. For your own good. Please. Sit.”
High Priestess… The title still baffles me. We stare at each other for what feels like eons, the tension thick in the air.
Drip, drip, drip.
At last, I huff out a breath and plop into one of the chairs. Briony takes a seat in front of me, her knees touching mine. “Alright,” she says airily. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
