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33 MERCY WHITAKER

The viceroy waited for silence to claim the room.

Everyone turned to watch except for the paladins, who continued filling drinks or removing plates of half-eaten food. She hadn’t realized how many of them were on duty tonight until that moment, with the rest of the crowd drawn to stillness.

“Welcome! Thank you for answering my summons.”

His voice filled the room. Mercy knew that most of them had been listening to that voice for days now, wherever they went in the city. It hadn’t been audible down in the morgue, but every time she’d stepped out to get some fresh air, she’d heard the announcements. Mercy had seen him in person only once before. At her graduation from Balmerick, he’d given the commencement speech. He looked nearly the same as he had then. Perhaps more tired.

“I know this is no small request. Many of you have families who need you….”

One of the paladins glided into her peripheral. She held out her glass absently, without looking. Her hand instinctually braced for the impact of more liquid being poured into what she was holding—that subtle increase in weight. Which was why it was surprising when nothing happened. The waiter didn’t pour anything. Nor did he mutter an apology for being out of water.

Instead, he glided past without a word.

“… houses and holdings that require your attention…”

The moment was just odd enough to draw her attention. Mercy glanced back over her shoulder at the exact same time that the paladin glanced over his. He was already ten paces in the distance, aiming for the nearly hidden kitchen doors, but in that brief, shared glance—she saw him. The light brown skin. The soft-set eyes. An open face that had welcomed her with a wide smile the first time she’d seen it. Her brain fractured slightly at the sight of him in the uniform of a paladin. But in less than a breath, she knew exactly where he’d gotten that uniform.

It was Devlin’s.

“Nance!”

The word came out as something more guttural. Less a name and more of a curse. Behind her, there were shouts and gasps. Mercy thought she heard someone casting magic, but she didn’t let that distract her. All that mattered was not letting Nance Forester make it to the kitchen entrance.

Her first stun spell struck him in the side, staggering him to a knee. He caught the second spell with a raised forearm. It was similar to what Holt had done down in the water treatment facility. As if his body was a shield against the magic she was casting. She flung a third and a fourth. He somehow resisted both, all while backpedaling to the exit. His eyes were unnaturally dark as he stared back at Mercy. “Stop him!” she shouted. “Please, someone stop him!”

Mercy cast one final spell—and saw his body shiver just before it released from her fingertips. An unnatural ripple of movement. His dark eyes lightened to an almost green. There was a flicker of surprise in his expression, and then her stun spell slammed into him with enough force to crush his rib cage. He launched through the air and crashed down on a cloth-covered table. The feeling of victory was short-lived. There were other spells whistling overhead. Swords were being drawn as paladins flooded the room from all sides. Far more than she’d seen swirling around the room as servers. As if they’d all been waiting for exactly this moment.

The room plunged into chaos.