“Their guards will remain outside our gates. Whatever uprising they discuss — whatever messages appear on their walls — isnotour concern.”
Voices swell again, but I've heard enough. I peel myself from the wall and keep moving. My legs are unsteady. My hands are shaking. The black stains on my fingers seem darker in the dim light of the passage, like shadows are seeping into my skin.
Memories crash over me in waves. Jordi's blood soaking my palms. The glowing eyes in the Shroud. The red letters dripping down the wall like fresh wounds.
The Flame's voice curling through my mind.Use what you've buried.The god scepter. The laborers. The way the Council's guards looked at us like we were already guilty of something. I run.
Chapter Six
Something is wrong. I feel it in my bones. In the pit of my stomach. A wrongness I can't name, can't shake, can't claw out of myself no matter how hard I try.
I strip off the gray shift dress and stand before the bathroom mirror. The new scar glares back at me — a reddened slash across my lower abdomen. Jordi's wound. Now mine. I smooth healing elixir over it, letting my eyes fall shut as the soothing mix of aloe and mint seeps into my skin. When I open them again, my gaze catches on the other scar. The faded jagged line that looks like someone slashed me with a scythe.
A token from a past that simply exists with no memory of how I got it. Most days I forget it’s buried beneath the gold-threaded lines and sigils the Sages marked my skin with. For protection, they said. I glare at the sigil between my breasts that burns each time my anger rises.
I've learned to ignore that as well. I've learned to ignore a lot of things. I unfold the letters that were left underneath the slippers and read them while I dress.
Temp —
I'm sure you'll worry when you wake, so a few things: your purple potion worked. They're keeping me at the Hall to makesure the toxins are "fully out of my system." (They are. But they want me to rest, just in case.)
Anala says we're expecting more visitors than usual for the festival. The inns will fill quickly, so I told Draven his friends can stay in my quarters until his guest rooms are ready. If they're anything like him, you won't even notice they're there.
I love you,J
I pull on my black stockings, slip into the short maroon-fringed dress, and reach for the next letter.
Temp —
Arlo says you're still sleeping. It's been two days. We're worried.
I'm still at Reflection — long story. I need to see you before Constantine's speech at the square.
J
P.S. Give Draven the books in my bag if you get a chance.
Two days.
I stare at the words. Then at my hands. The black stain has faded. Only my fingernails remain darkened, the way they've been ever since the Sages tasked me with making the memory elixirs.
Two days. I was asleep for two days. I pull my hair into a quick ponytail and clasp my amulet around my neck. The Hall of Reflection sits on the border between Veritas and Lunaris, and I don’t want to risk going over there without it again.
When I glance back at the letter, the words are gone.
Godsdamn it. I unclasp the amulet. Watch the words bleed back onto the page. Jordi refuses to write on regular paper.
He's convinced the Council will find it. As if he's plotting some elaborate coup. Margot's words echo back.Uprising. Renegades.
I shake it off. My brother is many things, but he's not a fool. He knows something like that would get him banished — or worse. I unfold the last letter.
If I'm not here by the time you come, know this was meant to happen.
I saw it.
