Page 38

He turned away and went to a pillar at the back while he continued to talk, his voice bouncing off the statues. “It is easy to make claims with words. You must prove your devotion. You have harmed yourself over and over with years of greedy magic use. Even now, I feel it clinging toyou.” The cards were hot against my skin. “It makes me wonder if you’re beyond saving.”

A hushed silence fell in the chamber. I glanced around, but none of the acolytes met my gaze. “I’ll do it. Whatever it is, just give me a chance.”Just please, don’t find the cards…

“As I said, the gods do not trust the words of the corrupt. You must show them you are truly repentant. And as the priest of this city’s Monastery, I will guide you to their forgiveness.”

He turned back, the braziers casting him in a fearsome light.

“Kneel.”

I dropped to my knees, the cold stone pressing against my shins. Devoin wasn’t much taller than me, even at my short stature. Now, I had to crane my neck up to see him as he walked back to the center of the space.

“Do you admit only gods can save you?”

“Yes.” The word flew from my mouth, as unabashed as my earlier begging.

Yes. Accept me. Let me belong.

The priest’s face didn’t change. “Beliefs are defined by actions, not words. You must make your body mirror the state of your soul. Only then will you understand the unbearable pain the gods are saving you from.”

“Remove your shirt.”

I hesitated.

“Do you want to be part of us or not?” Devoin demanded.

I have to do this. I reached for the hems of my new blouse. My flesh wasn’t beautiful, but it wasn’t shameful. The band of fabric still pressed my breasts together. Devoin’s gaze pressed into me as I lifted my shirt. But no matter how careful I’d been, I couldn’t stop the movement from dislodging one of the cards I’d pressed against my skin.

The tension in the room rose as all eyes fell to the enchanted card that fell to the ground.

This was it. They’d kick me out for sure now. I’d wasted my chance.

I hunched my shoulders, bracing for the yelling.

But Devoin’s voice didn’t change from that even, pious tone. “It seems you have extra sins to atone for. Now, impress the gods.”

He held out his arm, right in front of my face. My stomach twisted in comprehension. With shaky fingers, I grasped the handle of the tool he’d retrieved from the other side of the room. Several knotted strands of rope dangled from the handle. From this close, I could smell the hint of copper that soaked the rope. How many times had it been used?

My arm felt impossibly heavy as I took it from his hand and lifted the handle above my head. Blindly, I let it fly. Even though I was braced, I gasped at the contact. Ithurt.

“Isaidimpressthem.”

I lifted the scourge once more and hit myself as hard as I could. Pain exploded across my back, and I dropped the handle. My eyes watered, burning me.

“Again.”

I picked it up and hit myself. I tried to avoid the same spot, but with all the tails, the whip seemed to hit every part of my back.

“Again.”

My knuckles were white around the whip, but I obeyed.You have to do this. You have to prove you’re one of them. This time, I didn’t drop it.

“Again.”

On it went. The pain stopped being so shocking, and instead grew consuming. I couldn’t sink into it, not the way I could when Nelson would beat me. Because I had to participate. I had to hit myself as hard as possible, over and over, to earn Devoin’s approval. If my blows grew weak, he simply said, “Do better.” Those were the worst—the pain that was worthless. It earned me nothing.

But still, I hit myself. Because I would earn their approval. No one gave anything for free. At least here, the cost was clear. Hit after hit. My chest bent lower to the ground, the card directly on the floor between Devoin and me growing hazier with every blow.

“Again.”