He didn’t move for several seconds, but Gideon appeared beside him, speaking quickly, and whatever he said finally made Keegan turn. The group moved through the outer gate, slipping into the darkness beyond the compound where the others waited.
My chest ached as they disappeared.
I would be with them again, I said silently.
The shadow mark pulsed in answer, and this time the sensation wasn’t pain exactly. It felt like a tug.
I stepped back from the window, and the Priestess watched me with a calmness that made me want to throw something priceless at her head.
“You love them fiercely,” she said flatly.
“Yes.”
“That makes you easy to steer.” The Priestess paced a few feet and looked at me. “That makes you a target.”
I shook my head, not bothering to answer.
Her smile returned as she crossed the gallery, and the floor changed beneath her steps. The black stone softened to a deep gray, and the silver veins brightened until they looked almost pretty.
The room beyond the gallery unfolded as she approached.
There was a sitting chamber with high-backed chairs, a long table, shelves lined with old books, and a fireplace burning with pale blue flames.
A tea tray sat waiting on the table.
“Have some tea,” she said, motioning toward it.
I stared at it. “You cannot possibly think I’m drinking anything you offer me.”
“It isn’t poisoned.”
“Again, you say things that don’t exactly reassure me.”
“You’ve spent too much time with that vampire.” She laughed callously. “Feeding my unsuspecting granddaughter tea that told them more about you than even you knew? And I’m the wicked one?”
“Stella is my friend. She’s never tried to hurt me. In fact, she’s done everything in her power to help me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I refused to look at her.
The Priestess laughed softly at my quiet rebellion. “Stella has survived by making herself charming enough to be underestimated and difficult enough to avoid killing. I respect it, though.”
The Priestess sat, folding herself into one of the chairs with regal ease. She poured tea into two cups, then slid one toward the empty chair opposite her.
She let out a sigh that almost sounded like a purr. “You think Shadowick is a wasteland.” Her eyes met mine.
“I’ve never thought that. I feel sorry for the people trapped here. It could offer hope and potential.”
Her brows lifted. “You expected optimism while arriving with an army?”
“You know that I have been to Shadowick several times,” I said coolly, still standing.
“And yet you still can’t see through the fog?”
“Oh, no. I can see plenty through the shadows and fog. It highlights the cages just fine.”
“Cages exist everywhere, Maeve. Some are visible. Some look like duty. Some look like devotion. Some look like the sweet little Academy that wrapped its fingers around you and made you feel like belonging.”
