Ciana didn’t like that answer, but it would have to be enough.
“Fine. Back to Andburgh, then.”
The priestess nodded grimly. “To hide until your queen ends this.” She made to let go of Ciana’s arm, but Ciana caught her wrist, holding her stare.
“Ourqueen, Priestess.” Ciana smiled fiercely. “Welcome to the court.”
The priestess flushed. “Thank you,” she whispered, before darting off again into the white-barked trees.
With slightly more hope in her heart than she’d had a moment before, Ciana followed.
They burstfrom the Ivory Forest, breathless and covered in thousands of tiny scratches. The afternoon sun was hot and piercing.
Ciana’s skin crawled the moment they left the cover of the trees. She was too exposed, too vulnerable, too seen, likethousands of eyes had snapped to her the moment she left the canopy.
“How much farther?” she whispered. The priestess scanned the sky.
“Not much,” she said. “It’s near the edge of the square. One of the only buildings they didn’t destroy.”
“How do you know they won’t come back?”
“The army has moved on,” the priestess said. “The lords have their camps set up down Xara’s road. That’s where Kol plans to meet them after all this. They are done with the ruins of Andburgh.”
What choice did Ciana have but to trust her new friend?
They raced across the scorched and bloodstained streets. Evidence of the carnage that had swept the town was everywhere: a forgotten shoe, a trampled market bag, a discarded child’s toy. Ciana tried to keep her gaze fixed on the path before her.
So much death had touched this place. No matter how poorly they might’ve treated Mariah, no matter how much the Salis family had never quite belonged here, these people still hadn’t deservedthis.
“This one.” The priestess veered toward a brick building standing at the far edges of the square. The simple wood door sat beneath a sign that might’ve once been to a tavern. The windows were boarded up now, but Ciana could picture the travelers who had once sat inside at tables and chairs, enjoying hot food and ale.
Once, she might’ve been one of those travelers. A different girl from a different life.
The priestess slammed into the door, gripping the fine silver handle. She pushed it down, heaving the door open.
Ciana collided with the priestess’s rigid spine, yelping with surprise. “What’s wrong?—”
“Lady Hareth. I thought you might scamper back here.”
The slimy voice, spoken with his usual irreverent chuckle, sent ice shooting through Ciana’s veins.
The priestess was still frozen, a hand tight on the door handle. Ciana peered around her shoulder, fear spearing deeper into her gut, tightening around her chest.
Lord Shawth and Lord Donnet lounged in the empty room, hungry smiles spread across their red faces. Shawth cocked his head, grin widening. “And where is our dear High Priestess? Did you finally grow a spine and rid us of her nuisance?”
The priestess didn’t answer, didn’t move. Her hand trembled at her side, the ends of her long hair shaking as her shoulders heavily rose and fell.
Ciana was about to offer her whatever reassurances she could, was about to pull her out of that door and tell her to run, when Shawth’s cold, watery eyes slid to her.
“And it looks like you brought a friend!” Shawth’s smile broadened. “Well done, Anniliese. You can always be counted on to serve your lords well.”
Something about that snapped the priestess—Anniliese—awake. She released the door handle, taking a lurching step in front of Ciana. “Take me. I’ll do whatever you ask. But let her go.”
Shawth tsked, and Donnet chuckled softly. “Oh, my dear. If only it were so simple. You see, you have outlived your usefulness to us.” Shawth snapped his fingers. From the shadows stepped three of his personal guards, clothed in the blood red of his house. “Gone are the days of priestesses and queens. Kol has promised us a better world, one where men rule in the light and not hidden in the shadows.” He nodded to his men.
They moved forward, faces blank beneath their helms.
Anniliese lifted her hand, unfurling her fist. An ember of golden fire ignited in her palm, flickering in the dim light of the room. “No. You won’t take meorher. Not again.”
