Lucien stared down at the black water moving below. “We need Elara. She can help decode the musical notation and cross-reference bride records in the archive. If there are other women who vanished or died under suspicious circumstances, the pattern should be visible once we know what to look for.”
“Serast will notice if I start researching dead brides.”
“Then we do it carefully. Through Elara. Through servants who can access records without temple oversight.” He turned back to her. “But we do not let the temple isolate you before the next trial. Whatever Serast summons you for tomorrow, I will be there.”
“That will make it worse.”
“I no longer care about making it worse. I care about keeping you alive long enough to break the rite that killed Isolde and will kill you if we let it proceed unchallenged.”
Sabine crossed to him and took his hand. The mark pulsed where their palms met.
“Then we do this together,” she said. “No more pretending distance will protect us. The court already knows. The temple already knows. We might as well use what they see.”
Lucien pulled her against him briefly, his arms wrapping around her in a way that felt less like passion and more like fear he would not voice.
“Do not let Serast take the music,” he said against her hair. “Whatever he threatens. Whatever he offers. That message is proof, and proof is the only weapon we have.”
Sabine nodded against his chest.
Then she stepped back before anyone watching from the palace could see them standing like lovers above the river that had tried to claim her.
Lysa was waiting when Sabine returned to her chamber.
On the desk sat a sealed temple notice.
Sabine broke it open.
High Hierophant Serast requested Sabine’s presence at dawn in the Consecration Hall.
Reason: irregularities in the Blackwater retrieval requiring formal review.
Sabine set the summons down carefully and crossed to her travel case. She opened the false lining and withdrew the dried strip of music.
The message was still visible beneath the notes.
Not the first. Not the last.
“He knows you found something,” Lysa said quietly.
“Yes.”
“And he will demand you surrender it.”
“Yes.”
Sabine tucked the music back into its hiding place and locked the case.
Outside, the Blackwater moved through the city in the dark, carrying whatever memories the shrine beneath the temple chose to preserve.
The river had not finished with her.
Neither had the temple.
But now she had proof that the rite had been consuming women long before Lucien’s first bride entered the Vow Chamber.
And proof was a blade that could cut both ways.
Eighteen
