If it hurt Ysira to say Ged’s name today, she did not show it. Her mask never cracked.
When it was done and people began to file out of the chamber, Neri limped down from the throne. He brushed away Ysira’s hand when she tried to help him. Though in public, she was rarely far from her son’s side, Seth had not seen them speak to each other in private since Zal Fel.
“This had to happen,” Jacen said at Seth’s shoulder, causing him to startle. “Saraida and I invited a few we knew would be defiant and have to be dealt with, because the Zivoran elite will be harder to win over than the masses. They needed to see this.”
“Didwe win them over?” Seth wasn’t so sure. He considered bringing up the conversation he’d had with Neri before this meeting, but . . . would Jacen take his word for it over that of his god?
“We will,” Jacen said firmly. “In time. They might be afraid at first, but they’ll come to understand. This was necessary.”
“I never said I disagreed,” said Seth. “I’m a knight. This isn’t my first execution. Besides, you and I have both killed for less.” He frowned. “I’m more concerned about the one he spared. What does he want with a Tier Two telepath?”
Just then, a guard approached, depriving Jacen of the chance to answer.
“Father Kheris,” the man called. “I have a petitioner here to see you.” “Now?” Jacen seemed puzzled until he recognized the petitioner in question, trailing behind the guard. “Oh—of course.” Nines said, “This won’t take long.”
The former Church novitiate still wore grey, but she had traded her robes for trousers and a long, sleeveless tunic belted at the waist. Her dense white curls were woven into a multitude of braids, seashells clattering whenever she turned her head. A ropy scar sliced across her face from temple to chin, twisting the tip of her nose and the corner of her lip. She’d tied a piece of dark cloth over the socket of her left eye, which the Firstborn physicians at Zal Fel had been unable to save.
Seth had done that to her.
She didn’t appear to hold it against him—at least, not enough that she acknowledged his presence. But Seth could not look at her without that guilt, ever present, lodged inside him like the tip of a jagged blade.
Nines sidestepped a pile of ash. If she suspected what it was, she gave no indication. She shifted her weight back and forth, profoundly nervous about whatever it was she’d come to say. Jacen was patient with her in that priestlike way of his that made people feel safe confiding in him, that sometimes still made Seth wonder whether he was right about everything.
“We need to talk,” Nines said. Then her colorless eye narrowed at someone behind Jacen.
At Neri.
Without looking, Seth knew he was there.
“Clear the room.” Neri did not speak loudly, but no one in this chamber had stopped paying attention to him. They eagerly obeyed, filing out until only Seth, Jacen, and Ysira remained.
Nines muttered something about coming back later.
“Syl Inissa,” said Neri, and Nines went stiff at the sound of her true name. “You stay.”
He waited until the heavy graven doors thudded shut. He faced Nines and Jacen beside her. Ysira hovered behind her son, expression suddenly cautious. On reflex, though Seth could not have said exactly why, he wrapped his metal fingers around the hilt of his sword.
“There are very few left alive who witnessed everything that happened at Zal Fel.” Neri gestured as he spoke. “Our prophet. My uncle. My mother. Saraida Ancarath commands our Zivoran Guard. Lucan Teheda is of the Shrouded City, and the Disciples of the Gate devoted their lives to us before they knew who I was.You,however . . . You are an anomaly. You know a great deal of information which, should it reach the wrong ears, could jeopardize our stability. Consider, for example, our prophet’s parentage. Consider my uncle’s possession, my father’s death, and the destruction of the White Cathedral.”
Nines’ face tightened. In the few times Seth had seen her since she was released from the physicians’ care—she’d avoidedthem all, especially Jacen—she had never brought any of this up. Didn’t seem to want to think about it.
“That last one disturbed you,” Neri said. “This is obvious. Do you understand our concerns?”
Nines nodded slowly, still frowning. “You want me to swear fealty.” “Yes.” Neri didn’t qualify the statement. “You’re the only one who hasn’t.”
Nines had never once made eye contact with Seth, but—oddly enough—she did it with Neri. Perhaps it was because looking at him no longer felt like looking at anything human.
To Seth, it was like looking into the depths of space, into a void that had existed before time itself, that would devour them all in the end. Ultimate. Inevitable. To Nines . . . this seemed to evoke mild curiosity.
She said, “No.”
“Nines,” Jacen said tightly. “Think about this. There’s a place for you in our Church?—”
She rounded on him. “Itold youI wouldn’t be part of something like that again. And you said you wouldn’t make me.”
“Consider,” Neri said, “what it might cost you to refuse.”
Red light bloomed at his fingertips. Ysira and Jacen both spoke at once.
