“Do you think it’s the ruined?” I ask.
Corrin’s hands tighten around his reins, his expression taut with worry. “No. The ruined don’t attack property. Besides, my reports said there’ve been fewer sightings of them lately. They think the Temple’s been purging them.”
As if speaking the Temple’s name summoned them, there’s a flash of red robes at a crossroads up ahead. Corrin indicates we take a detour, and we dismount, moving down a side alley. There, from the protection of Corrin’s shadows, we watch a dozen clerics ride past.
They stop further up the road, exchanging words with each other as they point to a building. One of them dismounts and fixes a piece of parchment to the door before they ride on.
“It’s not the ruined who are the monsters in my city now,” Corrin murmurs, his eyes flashing with anger. I notice the shadows around us starting to creep out of the alleyway, slithering down the road toward the group of clerics.
I grab Corrin’s arm in a weird mirror of us in the sanctuary courtyard two days ago.
“Don’t,” I say. He turns to look at me, our faces the closest they’ve been since he was kissing me in that bedroom. His fresh citrus smell wafts over me, and I drop my eyes to his mouth, then the spot where I’m touching his arm. I exhale shakily, unable to stop the thoughts of his lips on mine and those hands dancing across my skin.
It takes all my strength to summon up more words. “Don’t do anything yet. Wait,” I say.
I drop his arm quickly, stepping back like I’ll get burned. Which is exactly what I’m afraid of.
The clerics are riding away now. When they’re out of sight, we slip cautiously from the alleyway, heading toward the building where they posted their notice. Now I can see that it’s a bookshop, but it’s dark inside, and one of the windows is smashed in. The paper on the door reads:
This establishment has been closed under suspicion of crimes of heresy. By order of the high arbiter of Hallowbane, High Inquisitor Meppos.
There’s an address underneath, listing Grove Street as the headquarters of the high arbiter.
“Those fuckers,” Corrin curses, ripping the notice down and stabbing a finger at the address. “That’smybuilding!”
“Looks like the Temple have made themselves quite at home here,” I say.
He shakes his head. “They told me the cleavers had gone, but they’d left some clerics behind. I never imagined something as bad as this.”
“When was the last time you got a message from one of your people?” I ask.
“Not since before we left for Qimorna,” he says. “It was too difficult to make contact from Filusia. I tried, but none of my contacts there had decent ties to the city since I left it.”
There’s a bitterness to his voice. He regrets leaving, even if it sounds like he barely escaped Hallowbane with his life.
“You can’t blame yourself,” I say. “Guilt is a useless emotion.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “You know, you could do with taking some of your own advice.”
I frown at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” he shakes his head, staring down the street in the direction the clerics went. “We always used to get clerics here,” he says absently. “They were a big part of our business. But they came here to escape the Temple, not to bring it to our doors.”
I look at him, unimpressed. “That’s what always happens when you invite a few rats in. Soon you have an infestation, and you end up getting bitten.”
He meets my gaze, a hint of challenge in his eyes.
“So you think I’m either a fool or a hypocrite,” he says. “Too stupid to realize how dangerous the Temple are, or too mercenary to care.”
“Ididthink that,” I say honestly. Now I’ve seen how much Hallowbane means to Corrin, I suppose I’m willing to accept there might be a third option—that he was doing what he could with the limited options he had. If he hadn’t catered to the clerics, the Temple would’ve come down on Hallowbane much sooner.
He smiles, finding that wicked grin somewhere despite all we’ve seen. “That almost sounds like I’m winning you over.”
I ignore his flirtation, taking the scrap of parchment from his hand and holding it up. “The question is, what are we going to do about it now?”
“We?” he asks, tilting his head at me with interest.
I shrug. “I have time until Sophos responds. And you’re clearly going to need all the help you can get.”
