Harman and Alastor exchange a smug look.
“Countess Irisma is your woman,” Harman says.
“Who is she?” Phaia asks. “And why would she be willing to risk her neck for the rogue princess?”
“She’s sixty-eight years old, has given birth to more important members of state than you can shake a stick at, and single-handedly negotiated a major trade deal with the Filusians about three decades ago,” Harman says.
“And shehatesthe Temple,” Alastor adds. “You must’ve seen the bodies over the gates when you came in. She’s not the only one on the council who’s unhappy about the extremism Oclanna’s brought to the capital, but she’s the one brave enough to make her feelings known.”
“When Oclanna pushed the council to vote on changing the law of accession so she could take the throne, Countess Irisma voted against it,” Harman finishes.
“You’re certain she’ll support my challenge?” I ask.
“We haven’t been able to speak to her directly,” Alastor admits. “It’s too dangerous. But we’ve had communication with her through one of her servants, and she says her mistress is willing to stand up for the rightful queen, as long as we realistically think you can win the challenge. I think she’s a safe bet.”
“So do I,” Harman seconds.
“Alright,” I say, looking around at the rest of my friends for approval. Most of them offer me curt nods or encouraging smiles, but I also see a glimmer of doubt in their eyes. I feel that doubt too.
I wish we had more time to prepare. If we weren’t in such a hurry, we could secure my position better ahead of the challenge—convince not one, but three or five of the twelve-person council, to back my claim. Right now, if Countess Irisma gets cold feet, we’re in trouble. But I don’t have the luxury of time, not when Caledon is racing toward finding the last two artifacts and becoming so strong we may never have a hope of stopping him.
“That leads us to the next step, I suppose,” I say, remembering Harman’s advice to keep looking forward. From where we’re seated at the top of the house, I can see out the window all the way to Elmere castle in the distance. I knew this day was coming, have even relished the thought of it. Still, the reality is setting in now. I might want this and know it’s the right thing, but the task ahead of me looms like that palace looms over the city. I have to kill my aunt.
Chapter 23
Damia
Ikick a rock aside, watching it skitter across the broken paving slabs and come to rest in a patch of wild grass. The air is cool here, despite the sun shining in a thick beam through the gap in the crumbled roof. Dust motes dance in its light, disturbed by our presence. We’re possibly the first people who’ve stepped foot in this building for decades.
Corrin squints at the walls, trying to make out the artwork that’s been covered over with violent slashes of crimson paint.
“What is this place?” he asks.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. It could have been a sanctuary. But it’s nothing more than a ruin now. That hole in the roof has blackened edges, and there’s a pile of burned wood in the corner—so charred and rotted it’s impossible to tell what the lumps of charcoal once were.
“It seems familiar though…” I push the question away, reminding myself not to get distracted. I had Barb stake out the building before we entered, confirming no one was lurking inwait for us. My gut tells me this isn’t a trap, but you can’t be too careful.
Which is why I reach for my sword when my magic carries Barb’s warning to me.
Ssss…human approaching…sss
I signal to Corrin just as a tall, bald man ducks through the crumbling entrance. For the first few seconds, we stand and stare at each other. Sophos tilts his head at us with a calculating stare, his eyes darting from me to Corrin and back again. He recognizes me from Otscold and Bastion, but Corrin is a new face, and I can tell that makes him wary.
“This is another ally of the princess,” I say, keeping my hand on my blade.
Sophos doesn’t move, but he gives a sharp nod and lifts his one hand to point at the painted wall behind Corrin.
“That was a mural once. Ethira would have been there, but other gods too—Ralus and Lusteris especially. Ethira was not always so…isolated as he is these days.”
Corrin and I exchange a glance. Is this the bearer’s way of breaking the ice? I play along.
“Why would there be a sanctuary all the way out here?” I ask. We’re in the middle of nowhere.
“During the war, the followers of Ethira wanted somewhere to gather they knew would be safe. Palquir loyalists and Filusian forces were raiding their sanctuaries in larger towns and cities, so they built sites like this, where they could worship in peace.”
He takes a step forward but hesitates when I immediately tense.
“I thought it would be an appropriate place to meet, given this particular site was built and used by solari,” Sophos says.
