Ilys clutched the girl tighter, anger breaking through the confusion.
“I killed to give your life meaning? What excuse is that? What sense is that?”
Mother Inrith lifted a finger to her lips, barring words. “Tick tock, Veilwalker.”
The priestess reached toward her, as though to touch her cheek, but her hand only brushed the air. Then, with a soft hum and that same dreadful calm, she turned and pattered away.
Ilys stood frozen, watching the old woman disappear into the shadows of the corridor. She ran faster, carrying Hanna down the final stretch, slipping through the heavy doors of the Sanctum and into the night.
The cold met her immediately, biting and sharp as she crossed the courtyard in long, quiet strides. The stables waiting ahead, the scent of hay and wood curling through the air. Spire whinnied softly as she entered, her white coat gleaming faintly in the moonlight filtering through the rafters. Ilys worked quickly, securing the girl to her front, wrapping her snug in bulky wool, tucking her safely against her chest.
Hanna stirred again, blinking up at her, confused, but Ilys hushed her gently, pressing a hand to her hair. "Hold tight, little one."
With practiced ease, she mounted Spire, her body fitting into the familiar rhythm of the saddle.
She did not look back. Not at the Sanctum. Not at the place where she had spent a lifetime kneeling, killing, believing.
She rode. The girl nestled closer, trusting, unknowing of the choice being made for her.
Ilys did not pray. She did not whisper to the Fates. She only rode, guiding Spire toward the one place she knew Hanna would be safe. To Rowenna.
Rowenna’s husband quietly gathered Beck, bundling him in warm layers before guiding them toward the village. With a quiet sort of grace, he left the women to their solitude, sensing their need for privacy. Ilys settled Hanna into the bed Rowenna had offered, smoothing stray strands of hair from her face and murmuring for her to sleep.
Once the small girl had begun her dainty snores, Ilys returned to the front room and painted the whole of it for Rowenna. The truth of the Bargain. The King’s cruelty. Grim in the Veil.
Rowenna met her gaze quietly, carefully gauging the depth of her friend’s resolve. Tears pricked Rowenna’s eyes, glittering gently.
“I am so sorry, Ilys,” she whispered softly, rubbing a comforting hand over Ilys’s. Taking her hand into her own, Rowenna pressed a tender kiss against it, her tears softly brushing against Ilys’s knuckles. “What will you do?”
Ilys’s eyes flashed with sudden, fierce resolve. She spoke evenly, a stark contrast to the chaos within. “I will kill him.”
Rowenna, pulled away her hand, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”
“After all I’ve told you, you would still be loyal to Annon?”
“Of course I am not loyal. He is a monster, Ilys,” she argued. “But you will not kill him. You would invite Death yourself.”
“Rowe, how many have I killed over the years?” she pressed.
“I—” Rowenna started.
“Exactly, you do not know. Because I have killed that many. Yet still you doubt my abilities?”
“If what you say is true, if he is older than the kingdom itself, then he will not be like all those men and women before,” she pushed back. “I worry, Ilys.”
Ilys cupped a hand to her friend’s cheek. “Do not worry.”
“Grim never wanted this for you,” Rowenna reminded her softly, sorrow heavy in her tone.
“Grim is gone,” Ilys replied fiercely, her voice tight with grief and rage. “This isn’t for Grim. This is for me, for the tattered soul I’ve been left with. I will strangle him with what remains.”
Ilys reached out, gripping Rowenna’s hand urgently. “I need you to do something for me. Take her to Tyl. Be with Leif’s family,” Ilys urged softly but firmly. “IfI fail, the King will come for you and your family next. You must leave this place, Rowenna.”
“See—if.” Rowenna pressed, illustrating her point. Ilys chuckled at the attitude that had yet to leave her friend, now a seasoned mother.
“On the very slim occasion that I should fall. You will take her, yes?” She stared at Rowenna. “Say yes, Rowe.”
Rowenna drew a breath, troubled. “There are men in Tyl just as cruel, just as corrupt.”
