“That won’t work on me.”
He merely stares.
“The compulsion.” I swallow. “It won’t work on me.”
He clears his throat, frowns, and glances away momentarily. In the time it takes him to regroup, I decide to answer his questions so I can get out of here quickly.
“The Council is a group of people who have been in charge of Lunaris for the last forty years, give or take.”
“Give or take?”
“The Veritas Treaty was signed forty years ago, so I guess it’s been that long.”
“Who is the treaty between?”
“The Lunarian Council and the Sages of Veritas.”
“So Lunaris is … split between them?”
“Yes, but they work together.” I glance at the clock, knee bouncing incessantly. “Look, I don’t mind answering your questions, but this is a complicated topic and I really need to leave.”
“Is magic also forbidden in Veritas?”
My jaw clenches when he doesn’t even acknowledge what I said, but I answer anyway. “No. That only applies to the Council’s territory.”
He nods like he expected that answer, which makes me think he must know about the Sages, at least. I guess it’s not surprising since there are Sages in each kingdom and everyone knowsabout them and the Veritas Order. I’m about to say once more that I need to leave, but he pins me with a hard stare.
“And their residents accept that?”
I take a breath and expel it slowly. “They don’t know any better. The Council banished mention of the gods and the gifts they grant us with. Their residents are told their amulets are what keep the Shroud from rotting our land and the creatures from coming in, so they wear them at all times.”
He stares at me for a long moment as he processes that. “How can no one challenge them? Are they claiming to be regents?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Are they claiming the king gave them the power to act on his behalf?”
I search his eyes. How could the goddess’ collector not know the answer tothat?
“There is no king here,” I say after a moment. “In Veritas, the monarchy is mentioned, of course, but we mostly focus on ancient civilizations. I doubt the Council’s texts mention them at all.”
“What about the older residents? Surely they must challenge the Council’s ignorant teachings.”
I shake my head slowly. “No one in Lunaris has memories of their lives before they arrived here.”
“How?” he whispers.
“Everyone trades their memories for asylum.”
He stares at me, unblinking, for so long that I almost question if he’s a demon, after all. But then I feel a low thunderous rumble vibrate in my chest, and I realize it’s his anger. My breath catches as it builds, and I force myself to sever the tie to his emotions before it takes hold.
“They trade their memories?” he asks in a soft voice that sends a chill down my spine. He glares at me when I nod, likeI’mthe one working for the goddess of Noktemore and sneaking into people’s private quarters. “Why would you agree to that? Why wouldanyone?”
My sigil burns as a swift wave of anger rushes through me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I didn’t have a choice in the matter, but I think better of it. I don’t have to defend myself, or any of our residents’ choices, tohim. I glare at him as I stand up and start picking up my things.
“Safety, food, purpose. The promise of life in a perfect society. That’s why.”
A loud thump in my brother’s quarters makes our heads whip in that direction. Somehow, Malachi doesn’t make any noise as he stands up, but his large figure is impossible to miss in the corner of my eye. I hold my breath as the door to my brother’s private quarters opens, and let it out in a relieved exhale when Draven steps in wearing a dark green cloak with intricate gold stitching. His thick eyebrows lower and his long locs sway as he looks between me and Malachi.
