She escorted Mama across the sun-dappled courtyard, puzzling at the unusually long line of supplicants outside the Temple. Most were dressed in drab denim and cotton, but a shard of guilt pierced Cassandra’s stomach as she spied a few spots of silk and brocade within the queue.
Rare wealthy supplicants.
What treasures would she have found in their memories if she were still a Sister and they’d visited her extraction chair? Would their offerings have been the key to saving another family?
Yet another purpose of her previous life, unfulfilled this past week.
She guided her mother through the Temple doors and down into the obliviates’ quarters, then hugged her tightly and promised to visit again soon.
As she wound back up the stairs and through the narrow stone halls, raised voices echoed from up ahead. She paused, eavesdropping on the conversation leaking through Mother Superior’s office door.
“…Imperial decree. You do not have the authority to refuse it, Abbess.” The rough male voice spat the title with none of the due respect.
“Does His Majesty not understand the burden this will place upon the Sisters? Not to mention the danger it will bring to the mortal citizens of the colonies.” Mother Superior’s soft, lilting voice rose with uncharacteristic viciousness. “This could decimate their species.”
“That is none of your concern. You are a servant of the Empire. You will do as you are commanded. If you are in need of more Sisters to carry out this decree, more acolytes can be fetched for you.”
“No!” Chair legs screeched across the floor. “No.” Calm, steady footsteps walked towards the open door. “We will make due, as we always have. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemales, weservantshave work to do. May the High Gods bless you on your journey.” The blessing sounded more like a threat.
Cassandra tucked against the wall as three Empire soldiers in red jackets and golden helmets streamed out of the office and down the hallway.
She crept towards the door and poked her head in.
A hazy band of mid-afternoon sunlight fell across the abbess’s hunched shoulders as she massaged her temples.
“Borea?” Cassandra whispered. “Is everything alright?”
The abbess’s head snapped up. “Sister Fortin!” She touched her forehead. “Apologies, my dear. I should call you Cassandra now. Old habits die hard.”
The abbess floated around her desk and folded Cassandra into a crushing hug. Warmth glowed in the abbess’s black eyes, and Cassandra wondered how she’d never noticed it before. She’d been blinded by her own biases and suspicions of the abbess’s motives during the search for the missing Sisters.
Mother Superior—Borea, as she’d asked Cassandra to call her—had only been trying to thwart the investigation in an effort to keep Cassandra safe. To keep the Vicereine and, by extension, the Emperor, from discovering the permanence of Cassandra’s magic.
“What happened?” Cassandra asked. “What did those Empire soldiers want?”
The abbess gestured for Cassandra to take a seat, then plucked a document from her desk. Claws emerged from the abbess’s knuckles—evidence of her polar bear form—and she tore through the thick paper, dusting the desktop with the shreds.
“The Emperor—” Borea’s upper lip curled into a sneer “—has declared memory extractions mandatory. Every human in the colonies over the age of twenty-five must provide ten memories per week or risk imprisonment.”
Cassandra blanched. Until now, humans could control how often they sold their memories, which were then turned into Delirium. The liquid elixir mimicked the euphoria a Fae experienced while feeding on human emotions. Not all Fae consumed the substance, but there were enough addicts on the continent to make it the biggest business in Ethyrios. One whose profits lined the Empire’s pockets.
“Why would he do that?” Cassandra asked.
A dejected frown pulled at Borea’s lips. “I don’t know.”
Fury burned through Cassandra’s limbs. Despite this guise of freedom in the colonies, her fellow humans were nothing more than livestock to the Emperor.
“What can I do to help?” Cassandra asked.
“Nothing, I’m afraid. We Sisters will be as careful as we always have. But I’m afraid a catastrophic increase in obliviations will be unavoidable. And he has threatened that if we turn anyone away, we’ll be replaced with more compliant Sisters. His soldiers have started perusing the slums for future acolytes. It has never been this bad.” Borea cupped her forehead. “In my five centuries running this branch of the order, I have never seen the Empire display such blatant disregard for human life. The previous Emperor, despite his faults, would never have allowed this to happen.”
Helplessness once again gripped Cassandra. When she’d belonged to the order, she’d risked her own safety to spare misfortunate human families from selling memories. This new squeeze by the Emperor meant those same families would be forced back to the Temple. All her small, petty mutinies had been for nothing.
Reading Cassandra’s fraught expression, the abbess rounded her desk again and placed a comforting hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.
“We will manage,” the abbess reassured her. “You have more important things to worry about.”
Cassandra didn’t have the heart to tell the abbess that she’d been denied her request to assist in Xenia’s rescue. That she was just as much the Emperor’s pawn now as she’d ever been as a Sister.
