“All I know is what the High Swynwragedd have told me. That they were once members of the Order before they deserted.” I exchange an uneasy glance with Taliesin. “They rip out their talismans…among other things.”
Gwenydd laces her fingers together, nodding “You’re partially right. They do desert, but for a reason. Have you ever heard of the Order’s experiments?”
Heat crawls up the tips of my ears. I swallow once, then twice, hopelessly trying to steady the rapid beat of my heart. I incline my head, afraid that if I speak, the truth will spill out. That I don’t just know about the Order’s experiments but that they’re the reason I’m here.
I haven’t told Taliesin yet, and right now seems the worst possible moment for him to hear it—here, in front of all these strangers who fear him enough to trap his head in iron.
Rhian looks surprised. “Youknowabout the experiments? And yet you’ve still worked for the Order all these years?”
I wince, dropping my gaze. “I didn’t like it, but what was I to do? They said they were necessary to save our sky.”
“And do you know what happens to those they experiment on?” Gwenydd asks, her voice hard. “They turn into rogues, lost and broken. Driven to rage. Hungry for flesh. No longer the person they once were, all because the Order pried apart their minds until they could no longer take it.”
I suck in a sharp breath. I did know the Order experimented, but I always thought they reserved that kind of punishment for the enemy—the rebels we caught. Have I felt guilt for it? Yes, but I let Seren and Lowri convince me their means were justified by the aims for a better world for all of us.
I see now how wrong I was. Aboutallof it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I wish I’d done something to stop them.”
“The Order is the enemy. Not her,” Taliesin speaks up. “They’ve played with her mind as much as the rogues, and I won’t have you blame her for their actions.”
Gethin steps between me, Rhian, and Gwenydd. “He’s right. None of this is her fault, least of all what the Order did to the rogues.”
Gwenydd’s severe eyes narrow, but she doesn’t argue.
Taliesin folds his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Now do you want to hear what else we found or not?”
He continues with our discoveries, filling the rebels in on the king’s war camp. I sag against the chair, grateful for the steady tenor of his voice and the break from their attention. But the guilt lingers, angering the wound that was torn open when I walked into that ring of sticks…
What was that even about? Why was I so upset? I can hardly remember now.
The meeting soon ends, and Gethin helps me from my seat. His smile is gentle when he says, “You should get some sleep. We’ll have a planning session in the morning.”
“I’m not so sure I’ll be invited to join.”
“Because of Gwenydd?” He glances over his shoulder, where she and Rhian stand closely together, murmuring. “Don’t worry about her. That’s just how she is.”
I give him a weak smile. “I understand why she’d blame me. Don’t you?”
“They lied to you.” He tightens his grip on my arm. “Now I need you to listen carefully. The Order wants you to blame yourself. They want you to doubt your place outside their control. Because when you doubt and you blame, you’re more likely to end up in their grasp again. And I can tell by the look on your face, the last thing you want is give up. To let them win.” His voice drops into a fierce whisper. “Don’t let them win, Angharad. You are stronger than you think.”
My heart pounds. I barely know this man, but even so, I find myself flinging my arms around his neck and hugging him like he’s a long-lost friend I haven’t seen in years. He grunts in surprise, but then his arms come around me. Gentle yet firm, he holds me close.
“Thank you,” I whisper into his ear.
He nods and pulls back. “May the gods never be forgotten.”
I cock my head. It’s a twist on the Order’s words.May the stars never be forgotten. I’ve never heard anyone say it differently before, but I suppose the rebels would like to have as little in common with the Order as possible.
Brioc and Meurig escort us to the tower before taking up their positions at the foot of the stairs. I don’t question it as I pass. I’m far too tired to care if the rebels still insist on assigning guards to watch us.
On the landing, Taliesin and I hesitate outside his door. There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t find the words. I should tell him why I came. He deserves to know, even though he already guessed parts of it.
But after everything that’s happened today, I can’t bear the thought of shattering the brief peace between us. Our fragile, tender alliance. He’ll hate me again if he knows it all. I came to kill him, to resurrect him, and turn him into another experiment for the Order. I shudder involuntarily, hating myself a little despite what Gethin said.
And so when Taliesin stands before me in the corridor, concern in his eyes, and asks, “Is there something on your mind, Swynwraig?”
I smile and answer, “No, I’m just tired. It’s been one long fucking day.”
