“Are these all… ashes then? Of dead order members?”
She nods. “Whose bodies we could recover, yes.”
Morbid.I swallow hard.
I nearly ask about her brother, but decide against it. I donotknow her well enough to bring up such a sensitive subject.
“If the rumors are true about you, a few of your own relatives are up there as well.”
I tense. I’m not ready to admit that truth to myself yet, much less talk about it with a member of the order—the same order my ancestors helped create.
Instead, I stray to another topic. “How did you come to join the Order of Cavendi?”
A side of her lips pulls up. “You wonder how I could possibly choose this life?”
I search her stony expression. “Honestly, yes.”
Holding my gaze, she gives nothing away. “Some come here to serve a greater purpose, while others have nowhere else to go.”
She doesn’t expound beyond that, and I let it go. I wouldn’t want to share my woes with a complete stranger either, and clearly that’s all the information she’s willing to part with.
“You should go,” she says finally. “I imagine Anders chose this back way into the Archives because it is not a place you’re meant to be, given your current situation.”
I sigh.Doeseveryonehere know that I haven’t pledged myself to the order yet?I have to imagine word gets around in such a small place.
“That makes sense.” I bow my head slightly. “It was nice to meet you, Kali.”
I move to turn toward the entrance to the Archive, when what I could swear is a slight Irish accent echoes from down the tunnel I came through.
“There you are, Kali. I nearly tore the whole place apart looking—”
The tallest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on walks into the room. She clicks her jaw shut when her attention lands on me. Wearing a black tunic with the sleeves sheared off over tight black pants, her white skin appears even lighter than it actually is. Black combat boots complete the ensemble. Her hair is similar in color to Kali’s, but slicker and straighter and pulled away from her rigid face in a high ponytail. Her small eyes are a shocking blue above a slightly-bent nose.
“Oh.” She eyes me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and back with open disdain. “So, this is the outsider Ansaldo allowed into our midst.”
Ignoring the bite in her words, I hold out my hand. She doesn’t take it, choosing silence instead. Clearly, she’s uninterested inany sort of pleasantries. I shrug and cross my arms over my chest.
“Most people call me Mel. And you are?”
“Xiomara.”
A Spanish name.I wonder how far the order went to pluck her from obscurity.
“You’re Irish?” I decide to ask.
She laughs. “No, I’m from Newfoundland.” She says this as if it’s a crime to be from Ireland. Or any other country besides her own.
I raise a brow. “My mistake.”
She moves on quickly. “Ansaldo might be willing to wait until you decide to take the oaths like the rest of us did the first night we were brought here, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it.”
A trickle of fear and unsurety tingles down my spine. Though no part of me wants to escape anymore, I still don’t plan on receiving any tattoos. I refuse to add something permanent to my body that’ll give me God-like powers I can’t begin to understand. Once I do that, there’s no going back—I’ll belong to the order. And while I’m coming to terms with the fact that this may be my fate, I’m not ready to go through with anything yet.
Kali sighs. “Mara, be kind. She’s a guest of Ansaldo’s, and her relatives were once order members. She has not yet made any sort of oath or pledge to the order, but I have no doubt she will.”
“Could be,” Mara concedes. “But she knows about us, knows our secrets. And there’s nothing to stop her from telling people on the outside.”
Sweat starts pooling under my arms despite the coolness of the underground stronghold.
