Page 57

Mr. Tulis swallowed. “No, Your Grace, he isn’t. He’s our third son.”

Fuck.

An image of the babe in the tenement formed.

The Duchess had the absolute opposite reaction, clapping joyfully. “Then Tobias is a true blessing, one who will receive the honor of serving the gods.”

“That’s why we’re here, Your Grace.” Mr. Tulis slipped his arm from around his wife. “Our first son—our dear Jamie—he…he passed no more than three months ago.” He cleared his throat of emotion. “It was a sickness of the blood, the Healers told us. It came on real quick, you see. One day, he was fine, chasing around and getting into all kinds of trouble. And then, the following morning, he didn’t wake up. He lingered for a few days, but he left us.”

Sickness of the blood? The ever-present anger boiled deep. The only sickness was the Ascended who preyed upon mortals at night while they slept. It was likely what had taken Jole Crain’s parents. It was what had turned that babe. Neither the young nor the old understood that what visited them in the night was no phantom or dream.

“I’m incredibly sorry to hear that,” the Duchess said as she settled back in her seat, her delicate features fixed in sympathy. “And what of the second son?”

“We lost him to the same sickness that took Jamie,” the mother answered. “No more than a year into his life.”

Fuck.

“That is truly a tragedy,” the Duchess said. “I hope you find solace in the knowledge that your dear Jamie is with the gods, along with your second born.”

“We do,” Mrs. Tulis shared. “It’s what’s gotten us through his loss. We come today to hope, to ask…”

Oh, fuck.

I knew it before they even spoke. I knew what they were about to ask for.

“We came here today to ask that our son not be considered for the Rite when he comes of age,” Mr. Tulis said, and a rolling gasp hit the Great Hall. His shoulders tensed, but he pressed on. “I know that it’s a lot to ask of you and the gods. He is our third son, but we lost our first two, and my wife, as much as she desires more babes, the Healers said she shouldn’t have more. He is our only remaining child. He will be our last.”

“But he is still your third son,” Duke Teerman responded. “Whether your first thrived or not doesn’t change that your second son and now your third are fated to serve the gods.”

“But we have no other child, Your Grace.” Mrs. Tulis’s voice trembled as her chest rose. “If I were to get pregnant, I could die. We—”

“I understand that,” Duke Teerman interrupted. “And you do understand that while we’ve been given great power and authority by the gods, the issue of the Rite is not something we can change.”

“But you can speak with the gods.” Mr. Tulis stepped closer but stopped when several Royal Guards shifted forward.

This was…

It was fucking heartbreaking.

“You can speak with the gods on our behalf. Couldn’t you?” Mr. Tulis’s voice roughened. “We are good people.”

Of course, they were.

It just didn’t matter to the Ascended. They needed that small bundle held in the mother’s arms to feed upon.

“Please.” Mrs. Tulis cried openly, her cheeks streaked with tears. “We beg of you to at least try. We know the gods are merciful. We have prayed to Aios and Nyktos every morning and every night for this gift. All we ask is that—”

“What you ask cannot be granted. Tobias is your third son, and this is the natural order of things,” the Duchess cut in, drawing a broken sob from the mother that cut up my chest. “I know it’s hard, and it hurts now, but your son is a gift to the gods, not a gift from them. That is why we would never ask that of them.”

There was nothing natural about this, and as I glanced over the crowd, I saw that I wasn’t the only one thinking that. Many in the audience stood in shock, unable to believe the Tulises would dare to make such a request. But others watched the horror unfold, their faces full of sympathy and barely leashed anger as they stared up at the dais—at the Ascended and the Maiden. My hand clenched into a fist as I pushed off the pillar. Vikter stepped in closer to her, likely sensing the brimming anger.

And she—the Maiden—looked uncomfortable. Her fingers were twisting incessantly, and her chest moved rapidly. She appeared as if she were on the verge of running away…

Or stepping forward.

“Please. I beg of you. I beg,” Mr. Tulis pleaded, dropping to his knees.

This was…gods, this was one of the worst things I’d ever witnessed, and I’d seen some shit. Done some of it. But seeing a father and mother beg for the chance to keep their child was something else entirely.