“The final phrase was removed from the stone. Lucien is going after Serast’s ceremonial book.”
Lysa made a sound under her breath. “Of course he is.”
“He thinks the book may have the old wording. Or enough of the corrupted wording to reverse it.”
“And if he is caught?”
“Then he will be accused of interfering with sacred process.”
“If you are caught?”
“Same.”
Lysa looked toward the door, then back to Sabine. “There is a summons.”
Sabine went still.
It sat on the desk beside the lamp.
Temple black seal.
Fresh wax.
She picked it up, broke it open, and read.
No surprise moved through her.
Only confirmation.
The final sequence will begin at dawn. Lady Sabine Corvyr is to present herself at the Vow Chamber in full consecration dress. Failure to attend constitutes withdrawal from the sacred Trials and forfeiture of crown protection.
Corvyr.
Cassian.
Her mother.
The estate.
All tied to her attendance.
All tied to her kneeling.
Lysa read over her shoulder and went very quiet.
“At dawn,” she said, “they expect obedience.”
Sabine folded the summons carefully.
“No,” she said. “They expect performance.”
She crossed to the mirror.
The woman looking back at her had blood beneath one bandage, a dead bride’s testimony sewn under her clothes, and a mark climbing toward her throat in dark, beautiful lines the temple had not intended to see outside its chamber.
The Trial of Flesh had shown her the corrupted rite in motion.
The foundation chapel had shown her what it used to be.
