“He’s …” I clear my throat. “He's staying at Jordi's.”
Kage's face transforms. The guarded wariness melts into something bright and almost boyish. “So he is here.”
I stuff my trembling hands into my cloak pockets. “How do you know it's a Reckoning year? And why come here, of all places?”
“Because the sprites that mark the Reckoning led me here.”
“The sprites look like red lightning,” Naima adds. “They've been appearing every night.”
My eyes snap to hers. “You saw them?”
She nods, her expression grave.
I press a hand over my pounding heart. Jordi was right. About the sprites, about the Reckoning, and probably about far more than I ever gave him credit for. I think of Malachi again.His golden brown eyes. His quiet arrogance. How can he be here for the Reckoning and to collect the bargain I struck with the goddess? The two don't fit together, and I can't ask Kage without revealing what I've done.
“Doesn't the blood moon mark the Reckoning?” I ask. “We don't even see the moon here.”
Kage casts me a sideways glance. “You would have seen it ten years ago, if they hadn't kept you indoors during the festival.”
My brows snap together. I look at Naima, and she nods slowly. “When our gifts manifested.”
Ten years ago. The year everything changed. The year the Sages locked us inside and told us the outside world wasn't safe. A roar of cheers erupts around us, shattering the moment. Naima grabs my hand before I can process what she's said.
“We need to move.”
Chapter Ten
“Ican't believe you brought me to the square,” I hiss as we shoulder past a sea of dark green cloaks.
The crowd presses in on all sides, suffocating, the air thick with perfume and anticipation.
“Everyone is supposed to be here tonight,” Naima mutters back.
“Draven specifically told me not to come.”
One of the Council's residents shoots me a silencing glare. I bite my tongue and keep moving. The crowd's attention is fixed on the man speaking from the stage. I can’t see him, but his voice drifts over the square, low and honeyed. Together. Unity. Peace.
Naima leads us up a set of stairs, and we each claim a step overlooking the square. My eyes land on the man on stage. Constantine. Even from here, his presence commands the square the way a spider commands its web.
I've only seen him twice, both from a distance, but he's impossible to forget. His skin is pale as bone, his features so symmetrical they seem carved rather than born. Silver hair falls past his elbows, gleaming under the torchlight. He looks like the portraits of the old aristocrats that hang in the Veritas archives,the ones the Sages warn us about. The ones who ruled through fear and called it order.
He wears a dark green cloak with thick gold brocade at the shoulders, a matching doublet stitched with gold thread, and shoes polished to a mirror shine. Every detail is calculated. Every thread is a statement of power.
“This Moon Festival will be the biggest we've ever hosted,” he announces, his voice carrying effortlessly across the square. “And the longest.”
The crowd erupts in cheers. Constantine grins, drinking it all in. “Our usual esteemed guests have already arrived, most of whom are here tonight. But there are many more to come.”
The gold ring on his pinky catches the torchlight as he gestures, the glint of a tiny amber stone catches my attention before I turn back to the crowd. I watch the way they lean towards him, their faces upturned like flowers seeking sun. There’s something hypnotic about the cadence of his voice. Something that slips beneath the skin and settles there. It reminds me of a compulsion, but this is subtler. Softer. The kind of poison you don't taste until it's already in your blood.
“Of course, that means we must remain vigilant,” he continues. “Any outsiders who enter without reporting to the House of Justice will be dealt with accordingly.”
The threat lands softly, but it's a threat all the same. I scan the stage behind him. Freida and Anala sit in dark red cloaks, their faces unreadable. Mother and Draven are beside them, still wearing the green I saw earlier. The other two Council members flank them, their features obscured from this distance. I've never seen them up close. I'm not sure I want to.
I scan the crowd near the stage, searching for Arlo and Cas. For Malachi, so I can point him out to Kage. The handful of Veritas residents near the front stand out like drops of blood ina field of green. A few purple and pale blue cloaks cluster on the far side, visiting merchants or dignitaries from distant courts.
Every face is tilted toward Constantine as though he's delivering prophecy rather than the same tedious reminders they recite every year.Wear your amulets at all times. Adhere to each evening's color theme. Duels at the amphitheater are free but require a ticket.I could recite it in my sleep.
A flare of warmth blooms in my chest without warning. The sensation of being watched. I turn instinctively toward the field on the far side of the square, where three massive alatuses graze underneath the dark clouds above. Their wings stretch and fold in slow, languid movements, casting long shadows across the grass.
