Hawke hadn’t reported my presence, but he did tell someone.
I discovered that when I woke up only a few hours after he’d left and went to see if Vikter was up for training. There wasn’t a single part of me that was surprised to find him waiting for me and more than ready to get physical. I’d wanted to talk to him about what had happened with the Craven reaching the top of the Rise.
Vikter wanted to talk about what Hawke had told him. Apparently, after he’d left my room, he went straight to Vikter. I wasn’t exactly mad about that. Mostly just annoyed with Hawke feeling the need to tell Vikter anything. But it confirmed that Hawke figured Vikter would be aware of my presence on the Rise, or at the very least, not surprised or angered by it.
Hawke had miscalculated the whole not-being-angered part.
Vikter frowned as he prowled around me, eyeing my stance. He was checking to make sure my legs were braced, and my feet were planted shoulder-width apart. “You shouldn’t have been on the Rise.”
“But I was.”
“And you were caught.” Vikter stopped in front of me. “What would you have done if it had been another guard who discovered you?”
“If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have been caught.” “This isn’t a joke, Poppy.”
“I didn’t say anything funny,” I said. “I’m being honest. Hawke is… he’s fast, and he’s very well trained.”
“Which is why we’re working on your hand-to-hand combat.” My lips thinned. “My hand-to-hand fighting skills aren’t bad.”
“If that was true, he wouldn’t have caught you. Go,” Vikter ordered. Keeping my chin low, I threw a punch. He blocked with his forearm,
and I pulled back, looking for an opening, though not finding one. So, I made one. I shifted as if to kick, and his arms dropped a fraction of an inch. My opening appeared, and I swung, slamming my fist into his stomach.
He grunted softly. “Nice move.”
I dropped my arms, smiling. “It was, wasn’t it?”
Vikter smirked, but it faded quickly. “I know you’re probably tired of me saying this,” he started, “but I’m going to say it again. You need to be more careful. And you’re throwing punches with your arm instead of your core.”
I was getting tired of hearing him say that. “I am careful, and I’m throwing a punch like you taught me.”
“Your swings are weak. Limp. That’s not how I taught you.” He grabbed my arm, shaking it like a wet noodle. “You don’t have a lot of upper body strength. Your strength is here.” He placed his hand in front of my stomach. “You will inflict way more damage this way. When you throw a punch, your torso and hips should move with you.”
I nodded and did what he said. I missed, but I could feel the difference in the swing. “Hawke isn’t going to report me to His Grace.”
“You really think that?” He blocked my next punch. “Better.”
“If he was going to say anything, he would’ve gone straight to the Duke.”
“There could be a hundred reasons why he hasn’t said anything yet.”
A few days ago, I would’ve agreed, but not anymore. Not after what he’d confessed the night prior. “I don’t think he’s going to, Vikter. I don’t have anything to worry about, and neither do you. I didn’t tell him you were the one who trained me.”
“Poppy,” he said. He said it in the same way he had when I asked if he thought I could hide a broadsword under my veil. I still believed I could. I just needed to position it right— “You don’t know him.”
“I know that.” I crossed my arms as Vikter backed off. “But you don’t know him either.”
“You don’t know what his motivations are—why he would keep quiet.”
I knew what he’d said about the Red Pearl, and I was sure it also applied to the Rise. But it was more than that. The fact that Hawke was willing to risk being charged with high treason to help those who’d been cursed spoke volumes about who he was as a person. It didn’t feel right sharing that with Vikter, though. There was a reason we didn’t know the identities of others in the network.
So, I went with, “He said that if he had, he knew I wouldn’t trust him, which would make his job harder. You have to admit, he has a point.”
“He does, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful.” Vikter fell silent for a moment. “And I understand. I do.”
“Understand what?”
“Like I said before, he’s an attractive young man—” “That has nothing to do with it.”
“And you’ve been surrounded by old men like me.” “You’re not all that old.”
He blinked. “Thanks.” A pause. “I think.”
“It has nothing to do with how he looks. I’m not saying that I don’t think he’s attractive. I do, but that’s not why I trust him.” And that was the truth. My faith didn’t stem from what he looked like. “I’m not that foolish.” “I’m not suggesting you are.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “So,
you trust him?”
“I…I told him why I needed to be out on that Rise. I told him about the night my family was attacked. You know how he responded? Even though he said at first that I shouldn’t be out there, he listened to my reasons, and the only thing he said was that I needed to wear better shoes.” I figured I’d keep the part about my gown to myself. “I trust him, Vikter. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
Vikter sighed heavily as he looked away. “He hasn’t given us any reason to doubt him. I know that. It’s just that we don’t know him, and you’re important to me, Poppy. Not because you’re the Maiden, but because you’re…you.”
A knot of emotion formed in my chest and fought its way up my throat. I didn’t give him a chance to realize what I was doing. I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” I murmured against his chest.
Vikter was as stiff as a guard on the Rise for their very first time, but then he put his hands on my back. And patted me.
I grinned.
“You know I’ll never replace your father, nor would I ever try to, but you’re like a daughter to me.”
I hugged him tighter.
He patted me again. “I worry about you. Partly because it’s my job, but mostly because it’s you.”
“You’re important to me, too.” My words were muffled against his chest. “Even though you think my punches are weak.”
His chuckle was rough as he dropped his chin to the top of my head. “Your punches are weak when you’re not doing them correctly.” He pulled back, clasping my cheeks. “But, girl, your aim is deadly. Don’t ever forget that.”
 |
“The gods have not failed us. The Ascended have not failed you.” The Duke’s voice carried from where he stood on the balcony of the castle wall that evening. Below him, a mass of people filled the open yard, and under the glow of oil lamps and torches, I could see several wore all black, the somber color of death. Among them were guards astride horses, keeping an eye on the nervous crowd.
I’d never known His Grace to address the people like this. He and the Duchess were never in front of so many, not even during the Councils or the Rite. I couldn’t have been more surprised when both Vikter and Hawke arrived after supper to escort me to the balcony.
Then again, how many years had it been since such a significant movement of Craven reached the Rise?
Black flags had been raised over too many homes, and too many funeral pyres had been lit at dawn. The air was still choked with ash and incense.
“Because of the gods’ Blessing,” Teerman continued, “the Rise did not fall last night.”
Standing back, next to Tawny, and flanked by Vikter and Hawke, I wondered exactly how the gods’ Blessing had kept the wall from falling. It had been the guards, men like the archer, who had chosen death over allowing the Craven to come over the top.
“They reached the top!” a man shouted. “They almost made it over the Rise. Are we safe?”
“When it happens again?” the Duchess answered, her soft voice silencing the murmurs. “Because it will happen again.”
Behind the veil, my brows lifted. Over my right shoulder, I heard Hawke murmur dryly, “That will surely ease fears.”
My lips twitched.
“The truth is not designed to ease fears,” Vikter responded.
“Is that why we tell lies, then?” Hawke questioned, and I pressed my lips together.
Ever since they’d arrived to escort Tawny and me, they had been doing this. One of them would say something. Anything. The other would disagree, only for the one who’d spoken first to have the last word. It started with Hawke commenting that it was surprisingly warm this evening and that I should enjoy it, to which Vikter had followed up by stating that the temperatures would surely drop too rapidly for that. Hawke had proceeded to ask Vikter where he’d gained such prophetic knowledge of the weather.
In the span of an hour, it had only progressed from there as they attempted to out-snark each other.
Hawke was winning, by at least three comebacks.
Even after I had defended him to Vikter—and I hadn’t been lying when I told him that I trusted Hawke—there was still a small part of me that couldn’t believe what he’d said. He hadn’t told me never to go on the Rise again. He hadn’t demanded that I stay in my room, where it was theoretically safer. Instead, he’d listened to my reasons for why I needed to be out there and accepted them, only asking that I wear more suitable shoes.
And additional clothing.
The latter annoyed and excited me, which was altogether confusing. And was definitely not something that I’d shared with Vikter that morning.
My gaze slid to the Duchess as she stepped forward. “The gods didn’t fail you,” she repeated, placing her hands on the waist-high railing beside her husband. “We didn’t fail you. But the gods are unhappy. That is why the Craven reached the top of the Rise.”
A murmur of dismay swept through the crowd like a rainstorm.
“We have spoken to them. They are not pleased with recent events, here and in nearby cities,” she said, scanning the paling and graying faces below. “They fear that the good people of Solis have begun to lose faith in their decisions and are turning to those who wish to see the future of this great kingdom compromised.”
The whispers turned to outright cries of denouncement, startling the horses. The guardsmen quickly calmed the equines’ nervous prancing.
“What did you all think would happen when those who support the Dark One and plot with him are standing among you right now?” the Duke asked. “As I speak, at this very moment, Descenters stare back at me, thrilled that the Craven took so many lives last night. In this very crowd, there are Descenters who pray for the day that the Dark One comes. Those who celebrated the massacre of Three Rivers and the fall of Goldcrest Manor. Look to your left and to your right, and you may see someone who helped conspire to abduct the Maiden.”
I shifted uncomfortably as dozens and dozens of gazes landed on me. Then, one by one, as if the faces were dominos stacked side by side, they looked to each other as if seeing neighbors and familiar faces for the first time.
“The gods hear and know all. Even what’s not spoken but resides in the heart,” the Duke said, and my stomach twisted with unease. “What can any of us expect?” he repeated. “When those the gods have done all to protect, come before us, questioning the Rite?”
I tensed. Immediately, the image of Mr. and Mrs. Tulis formed in my mind. He hadn’t said their names, but he might as well have screamed them from the top of Castle Teerman. I didn’t see them in the crowd, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
“What can anyone expect when there are those who wish to see us dead?” Teerman asked, raising his hands. “When we are the gods given form and the only thing that stands between you and the Dark One and the curse his people have cast upon this land.”
And yet, not a single Ascended—not the Duke or Duchess or any of the Lords or Ladies—had raised one hand to defend the Rise. All of them were faster and stronger than any guard. I imagined they could’ve taken down double the amount of Craven I had with a bow, and just like Hawke had said, they had a higher likelihood of surviving an attack.
“What do you think would’ve happened if the Craven had crested the Rise?” Teerman lowered his hands. “Many of you were born within these walls and have never experienced the horror of a Craven attack. Some of you know, though. You come from cities less guarded or were attacked on the roads. You know what would’ve happened if only a handful made it past our guards—if the gods had turned their backs on the people of Solis. It
would’ve been the wholesale slaughter of hundreds. Your wives. Your children. Yourselves. Many of you would not be standing here.” He paused, and the crowd swelled—
It happened again.
I felt my senses stretch out from me, and that wasn’t too surprising. With a crowd like this, it was hard to keep myself locked down, but I didn’t… I didn’t just feel pain.
Something touched the back of my throat, reminding me of what I’d felt in the atrium with Loren.
Terror.
I felt terror swelling and rising, coming from so many different directions as my gaze skittered from face to face. Another sensation reached me. It was hot and acidic. It wasn’t physical pain. It was anger. My heart started thumping. I wasn’t feeling pain, but I…I had to be feeling something. It didn’t make sense, but I could sense it pressing against my skin like a hot iron. My throat dried as I swallowed hard. People clasped their hands under their chins and prayed to the gods. I took a small step back. Others stared, their expressions hard—
Vikter’s hand touch my shoulder as he murmured. “Are you all right?” Yes?
No?
I wasn’t sure.
Anxiety-spiked adrenaline flooded my system as icy ghost fingers danced along the back of my neck. Pressure clamped down on my chest. I wanted to run. I needed to get as far away from people as I could.
But I couldn’t.
Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing as I struggled to rebuild my mental walls. I kept breathing, in and out, as deeply and slowly as I could.
“And, if you’re lucky, they’ll go for your throat, and it will be a quick death,” the Duke was saying. “Most of you will not be so fortunate. They’ll tear into your flesh and tissue, feasting on your blood while you scream for the gods you’ve lost faith in.”
“This is perhaps the least calming speech ever given after an attack,” Hawke muttered under his breath.
His comment jarred me out of my spiral of panic, the utter dryness of his words cutting the cord that connected me to the people. My senses
reeled back, and it was like a door slamming shut, locking.
I felt…I felt nothing but my pounding heart and the sheen of sweat on my forehead. What he had done did more than loosen the hold the public’s fear had on me, it not only created a crack in its grip, it obliterated it. The feelings had vanished so quickly that I almost wondered if I had felt them at all. If it had just been my mind playing tricks on me as the faces before me became clear once more, a continuous onslaught of different shades of fear and panic—
My gaze sharpened as I took another look at the crowd, focusing on the faces that showed no emotion. Unnerved by their blank features, a trickle of unease curled its way down my spine. I focused on one of the men. He was younger, blond hair falling to his shoulders. He was too far away to make out his eye color, but he stared up at the Duke and Duchess, lips pressed firmly together, jaw a hard, broad line, while those who stood around him exchanged looks of terror.
I recognized him.
He’d been at the City Council. He’d had that same expression then, and that thing had happened—the weird flood of sensations I shouldn’t be able to feel.
Or I didn’t know I could.
I checked out the crowd once more, easily picking up on the ones like him. There were at least a dozen that I could see.
My gaze slid back to the blond man as I thought about what I’d felt when I’d been with Loren. What I’d felt from her made sense now, given what had occurred. She had been excited about the possibility of the Dark One being nearby, as disturbing as that was. And she would have reason to fear that I would say something. This man may not show emotion in his features, but if he hadn’t agreed with what was being done to the Tulis family, it would come as no surprise that he’d feel anger now.
Maybe it was all in my head. Perhaps something was happening to my gift. Was it possibly evolving so I could feel other emotions besides pain? I didn’t know, and I needed to find out, but I had to say something now just in case.
I turned my head to the right, toward Vikter. “Do you see him?” I whispered, describing the blond man.
“Yes.” Vikter stepped closer.
“There are others like him.” I faced the audience.
“I see them,” he said. “Be alert, Hawke. There—”
“May be trouble?” Hawke cut him off. “I’ve been tracking the blond for twenty minutes. He’s slowly working his way to the front. Three more have also inched closer.”
My brows rose. He was so very observant.
“Are we safe?” Tawny asked, keeping her attention focused on the crowd.
“Always,” Hawke murmured.
I nodded when her gaze briefly met mine, hoping she was reassured. My hand brushed my thigh. My dagger was sheathed under the white, floor- length tunic. The feel of the bone handle helped to ease whatever panic lingered.
The Duke was still mesmerizing the crowd with tales of gore and horror while I kept my focus on the blond man. He wore a dark cloak over his broad shoulders, and any number of weapons could be hidden underneath.
I knew that from personal experience.
“But we have spoken to the gods on your behalf.” The Duchess’s voice rang out. “We have told them that the people of Solis, especially those who live in Masadonia, are worthy. They haven’t given up on you. We made sure of that.”
Cheers rang out, the mood of the crowd shifting rapidly, but the blond man still showed no reaction.
“And we will honor their faith in the people of Solis by not shielding those you suspect of supporting the Dark One, who seek nothing but destruction and death,” she said. “You will be rewarded greatly in this life and in the one beyond. That, we can promise you.”
There was another round of cheers, and then someone yelled out, “We will honor them during the Rite!”
“We will!” the Duchess cried out, pushing back from the ledge. “What better way to show the gods our gratitude than to celebrate the Rite?”
His and Her Grace stepped back from the balcony then, side by side, almost touching but not quite as they both lifted their hands on opposite sides of the bodies and began to wave—
“Lies!” a voice shouted from the crowd. It was the blond man. “Liars.” Time seemed to stop. Everyone froze.
“You do nothing to protect us while you hide in your castles, behind your guards! You do nothing but steal children in the name of false gods!” he yelled. “Where are the third and fourth sons and daughters? Where are they really?”
Then there was a sound, a sharp intake of breath that came from everywhere, both inside and outside of me.
The blond man’s cloak parted as he yanked out his hand. There was a shout—a scream of warning—from below. A guard astride a horse turned, but he wasn’t fast enough. The blond man cocked back his arm and—
“Seize him!” shouted Commander Jansen.
The man threw something. It wasn’t a dagger or a rock. It was too oddly shaped for that as it ripped through the air, headed straight toward the Duke of Masadonia. He moved incredibly fast, becoming almost nothing but a blur as Vikter shouldered me back. Hawke’s arm folded around my waist, and he hauled me against him as the object flew past us, smacking into the wall. It thumped off the ground, and my gaze lowered to where it came to rest.
It was…it was a hand.
Vikter knelt, picking it up and rising, the line of his mouth tense. “What in the name of the gods?” he muttered.
But it wasn’t just any hand. It was the clawed, grayish hand of a Craven.
I looked at the blond man. A Royal Guard had him on his knees, arms twisted behind his back. Blood smeared his mouth.
“From blood and ash,” he yelled, even as the guard gripped the back of his head. “We will rise! From blood and ash, we will rise!” Over and over, he screamed the words, as even the guards dragged him through the crowd.
The Duke turned back to the crowd and laughed, the sound cold and dry. “And just like that, the gods have revealed at least one of you, haven’t they?”
