“Because of the gods’ Blessing, the Rise did not fall last night.” Duke Teerman shouted his lie for everyone in Masadonia and then some to hear.
I could barely stop myself from laughing my ass right off the balcony as I stood behind Penellaphe and Tawny. The Rise had held because of those who defended it, many who died doing so. Too many, I thought as I eyed
the crowd below. The air was still heavy with the smoke of the funeral pyres and incense. I couldn’t even count how many wore the white of mourning or who had hung black flags from their homes.
“They reached the top!” a man yelled from below, where the throng of people stood in the light of the oil lamps and torches. “They almost made it over the Rise. Are we safe?”
“When it happens again?” Duchess Teerman replied. “Because it will happen again.”
“That will surely ease fears,” I murmured.
“The truth is not designed to ease fears,” Vikter responded just as quietly.
I smirked. “Is that why we tell lies, then?” “And what lie has been spoken?” he countered.
As if there was only one. “That the gods were responsible for the Rise not falling. Those who defended it are.”
“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive,” he replied.
For a moment, I entertained the idea of picking Vikter up by the throat and tossing him off the balcony. However, I supposed that wouldn’t help me gain Penellaphe’s trust.
“The gods didn’t fail you,” Duchess Teerman said as she walked forward, placing her hands on the waist-high railing. “We didn’t fail you. But the gods are unhappy. That is why the Craven reached the top of the Rise.”
A wave of fear swept through those below like a flood.
“We have spoken to them,” the Duchess continued with what had to be the least reassuring speech I’d ever heard in my life. Those in the crowd
were growing paler by the second. “They are not pleased with recent events, here and in nearby cities. 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.”
What a load of bullshit.
Effective bullshit, though. The crowd shouted their protests, much like the guards had last night, when Jansen had asked if they would let the Rise fail. The horses’ nervous prancing drew my attention as I scanned the crowd, spotting Kieran on horseback.
“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 demanded. “As I speak, at this very moment, Descenters stare back at me, thrilled that the Craven took so many lives last night.”
Kieran inclined his head, and I knew he was likely struggling as much as I was, doing nothing as the Ascended spewed their ridiculous lies.
“In this very crowd, there are Descenters who pray for the day the Dark One comes,” the Duke said. And that was true. “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.”
My eyes narrowed as Penellaphe shifted from one foot to the other.
“The gods hear and know all. Even what’s not spoken but resides in the heart,” the Duke said from where he stood beside his wife. “What can any of us expect? When those the gods have done all to protect, come before us, questioning the Rite?”
What in the fuck?
Penellaphe went still as my narrowed-eye gaze swung back to the Duke.
What happened last night had nothing to do with the gods, let alone the Tulises, who he was clearly speaking of.
“What can anyone expect when there are those who wish to see us dead?” the Duke asked, lifting 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.”
It took everything in me not to laugh. The Ascended wouldn’t stand between the people and a mouse.
The Duke continued jabbering on with his nonsense, riling up the crowd and filling them with anxiety and anger just like a damn Soul Eater would.
This was how you controlled the masses. Give them something to fear, to blame for all your losses, and to hate. It never ceased to amaze me how effective it was, and yet—
Kieran caught my attention, jerking his chin toward the front of the crowd. Checking out the faces below, I stopped on a familiar blond-haired and broad-shouldered male making his way forward.
Lev Barron.
Shit.
What was he up to? For the last half an hour or so, he’d been steadily creeping closer to the front of the mass of people. He wasn’t the only one. Three more flanked him, those I didn’t recognize. Contrary to what the
Duke would say, I didn’t know every single Descenter.
Penellaphe suddenly stepped back.
Vikter caught her by the shoulder. “Are you all right?”
I focused on her. She was still, but she was trembling. I didn’t think anyone else noticed. Who could blame her given what the Duke was shouting at the top of his godsdamn lungs?
“But if we continue as we have, the gods may not bless us again. The Craven will breach the Rise and then there will be nothing but sorrow,”
Duke Teerman said. “And, if you’re lucky, they’ll go for your throat, and it will be a quick death. 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.”
Good fucking gods… “This is perhaps the least calming speech ever given after an attack,” I muttered.
Penellaphe jerked slightly, but the trembling appeared to have ceased a few moments later. Tension brewed in my gut as I stared at the straight line of her back. Based on what I had seen last night and what I knew before then, she wasn’t someone who scared easily.
But she knew exactly what it felt like to have what the Duke spoke of done to her. That was pain and fear she knew firsthand.
Yet she still went out and helped those infected, knowing they could turn at any second.
My reluctant respect for her grew.
Penellaphe tipped her head to Vikter. “Do you see him?” she whispered. “The blond male near the guards. He’s large-shouldered. Tall. Wearing a brown cloak. Clearly angry.”
Surprise swept through me as she described Lev. How in the whole wide realm had she caught sight of him?
“Yes.” Vikter inched closer to her.
“There are others like him,” she said.
“I see them,” Vikter confirmed. “Be alert, Hawke. There—”
“May be trouble?” I interrupted, finding Lev once more in the crowd.
Yes, he was clearly angry. It was written all over the hard set of his features, and others appeared just like him. Silent. Fury etched on their faces. “I’ve been tracking the blond for twenty minutes. He’s slowly working his way to the front. Three more have also inched closer.”
“Are we safe?” Tawny asked quietly.
“Always,” I murmured. They were. Lev? I had a feeling he wouldn’t be.
Penellaphe nodded when Tawny looked at her, her hand lowering to the right side of her gown. The corners of my lips kicked up. She had that dagger on her, didn’t she?
Cheers rang out suddenly, and I guessed the Teermans had finally said something inspiring.
“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,” the Duchess said. “You will be rewarded greatly in this life and in the one beyond. That, we can promise you.”
The crowd was joyous in their response, even shouting how they would honor the gods during the Rite.
If the gods were actually awake, they’d probably strike the Duchess down right where she stood.
The Duchess pushed back from the ledge, standing by the Duke’s side. “What better way to show the gods our gratitude than to celebrate the
Rite?”
“Lies!” Lev shouted from the crowd. “Liars.” Dammit, what was he thinking?
“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!”
Lev yelled. “Where are the third and fourth sons and daughters? Where are they really?”
A murmur of shock swept through the crowd and from Penellaphe.
Lev reached inside his cloak, and damn, he was fast. He cocked back his arm—
“Seize him!” shouted Jansen.
Vikter shouldered Penellaphe back a second before I folded an arm around her waist, drawing her against me as an object flew past us, smacking into the wall and falling to the balcony floor.
Lev had thrown a hand—a Craven hand.
Vikter bent, picking it up. “What in the name of the gods?”
Holding onto Penellaphe, I found Lev on his knees, arms twisted back, and blood smeared across his mouth. My arm tightened around Penellaphe’s waist as I fought the instinct to intervene. I couldn’t. There was nothing
anyone could do for Lev now. He knew that, yet he still glared up at the balcony with defiance—he stared at Penellaphe.
At me as he yelled, “From blood and ash—” A guard gripped the back of his head. “We will rise! From blood and ash, we will rise!”
We would.
For him.
For all those who stayed silent, who couldn’t speak. We would rise.
