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Chapter 30

Morgana

A lthough Una offers me a bed, I can’t sleep. I know the Holms family doesn’t either. I can hear Tira’s father pacing back and forth in their bedroom down the corridor, his steps counting down the minutes until sunrise.

A few hours before dawn, I give up trying to get any shuteye and head downstairs. The remnants of the fire are still smoldering in the grate of the tavern’s main room, and I crouch beside it, watching the embers flare and die among the ash.

“It would be better if you rested.”

I turn to see Leon at the bottom of the steps. The rest of his unit have piled into the rooms upstairs. On any other day, the Holmses would have put up a fight at the idea of dangerous fae bunking in their pub, but tonight their minds are occupied with other, more terrible problems.

“I don’t know how the others do it,” I say. “Every time I close my eyes, I see those people being murdered. And then I think about Tira joining them.” I shake my head, nauseated by the images.

“They’re soldiers,” he says. “They’re used to the night before a battle. They know that sleeping now gives them a better chance later.”

“You mean a better chance of not dying,” I say, thinking about exactly how many people could get hurt when we try to stop the execution.

“A better chance of winning ,” he says. I smile wanly at the positive spin he’s trying to put on this.

He pauses, as if he’s choosing his words carefully before he speaks.

“If we’re going to attack directly, you should still hold back from using your celestial power.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m not agreeing to that. What if it’s life or death? I’m not going to let someone die just to keep myself safe.”

He runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “I know that. I’m only suggesting you try . Remember that once the Temple knows what you can do, they won’t stop hunting you. Ever.”

“Well, then we’ll just have to make sure none of the Temple’s people leave here alive.”

His eyebrows rise. My words surprise him with their ruthlessness, but I know he doesn’t disapprove.

“That will certainly help. But the whole village has been called to witness the purge, and people talk—especially if they’re scared. And they will be scared when clerics from the Temple come here to find out what happened. If you use your powers today, you can’t guarantee news of them won’t spread.”

“I know,” I say. “I’m not making any promises, but I’ll focus on my job, and hopefully it won’t come to that.”

We’ve agreed I’ll stay out of the line of fire while the fae are keeping the clerics busy. Until I see Tira safe and free, I won’t be able to focus on anything else anyway.

Footsteps signal the arrival of Kit. He looks between Leon and me, and I see a question flash across his face. He’s wondering what’s going on between us, but I don’t know the answer to that myself.

The curiosity doesn’t last for long, however, his somber expression quickly returning as he addresses me.

“It’s nearly time.”

* * *

Kit, Una, and Hale leave before us, and once we’re sure a decent crowd has gathered, we join everyone else on the route to the sanctuary. The fae wear their traveling cloaks to hide their weapons, and I keep my hood up and my head down to avoid being recognized.

Most of the village is already in the square. Every resident of Otscold has been called to witness the purge. After last night, they’ve also had a brutal reminder of what happens when you defy the Temple. They huddle together in small groups, keeping their eyes on the ground or resolutely fixed to the platform in front of them. It means no one takes much notice of us as we slip into the side of the square.

We arrive just in time. The front entrance of the sanctuary swings open, and the cleavers march out, leading a trail of around twenty young men and women. Something is squeezing my heart as I search their faces, recognizing too many. When my eyes land on Tira, it’s all I can do not to shout out to her.

I can see the tracks of tears across her face. But she’s not crying now. No, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. All the same, it breaks me to watch her. Her eyes are distant, like she’s gone somewhere far away.

Her hands are bound with thick black cord that must be made with dimane. It’s the mineral used in prisons to keep criminals from accessing their magic. Humans, anyway. Fae aren’t susceptible to it, just like we aren’t affected by iron. It only occurs to me now that dimane was probably one of the ingredients Etusca used in my potion.

Sobs rise from the crowd as the condemned are led onto the platform. Someone starts to wail, only to quickly be shushed. I want to call out to Tira that she’s not walking to her death. That I’m here. But I’m forced to stand in silence.

Then the senior clerics emerge from the sanctuary.

I drop my head. Nunias is leading the way, and I have to make sure he doesn’t see me yet. At least I won’t need to hide for long. I feel the fae shifting beside me, and I glance sideways to see them edging away through the crowd, fanning out.

Bearer Sophos follows, and as he climbs up to the platform, I get a proper look at the man. His head is hairless, though a severely neat beard decorates his chin. He’s lean and tall, his long robes emphasizing his height, and when he turns his head to survey the crowd, he reminds me of a bird of prey.

He stretches his arms wide. Every eye turns toward him as he begins to address the crowd.

“May Ethira bless this gathering, so that?—”

One of the prisoners on the platform, a boy I don’t know, starts to laugh.

It’s enough to cut Sophos short, as hundreds of heads now swivel toward the boy. His laughter seems uncontrollable, big whoops rumbling out of him as he doubles over.

“He’s hysterical,” a man beside me murmurs to his friend.

Sophos examines the boy with a frown, then twitches a finger, and one of the cleavers steps forward. The soldier is drawing her sword when Freya, one of the condemned standing two down from Tira, starts laughing too.

“Enough,” Nunias demands, his face turning red with rage. “Silence, both of you.”

But the laughter is spreading. Someone in the crowd of townspeople begins to chuckle, then another person. Snickers turn to guffaws, until half a dozen people are clutching their sides. It fills the square with an eerie cacophony as people stare at their neighbors, watching them apparently going mad.

Then, suddenly, everything is silent. The people are still laughing, but they’ve been muted. In fact, there’s no sound at all, not even the rustle of bodies brushing against each other in the crowd. It’s as if we’ve been covered by a huge bubble of silence.

When I look up at Sophos, I sense the fizz of powerful magic rolling off him. He’s doing this. He’s an aesteri like Hyllus.

“Those who disrespect the Temple defile the gods.” Sophos’s voice echoes across the soundless square. He doesn’t seem angry like Nunias, only utterly convinced of his authority. To me, that’s more terrifying.

“We are gathered here under the glory of Ethira to purge your village of blasphemy,” Sophos continues. “Today will be a blessed one, for it is the day you will be cleansed of evil.”

He’s right. Because Damia’s sensic magic has done just what we intended—created a distraction to allow the fae to get into position without the cleavers or clerics noticing. Today is indeed the day we will cleanse Otscold of evil—and we’re going to cut it down from behind.

Before Sophos can say another word, the fae leap up from behind the platform, each one immediately running a cleaver through with their blade. Seven bodies slump to the ground, and Sophos blinks in confusion. His bubble of silence evaporates, and the square immediately fills with screams as villagers begin to scatter. The remaining eleven cleavers spin around, leaping down from the platform to attack the fae, and my time has come.

I sprint through the crowd toward the prisoners.

They’re frantically eyeing Sophos and Nunias, wondering if they can make a run for it in the chaos, but Sophos is shouting to them—I suspect it’s orders not to move. Something explodes behind the platform, and there are more screams. Steam billows across the square in thick clouds.

As I run through the mist, I see something that makes my heart soar. Not all the villagers are running away from the square. Some have started clambering up the platform. I recognize Una’s curly hair and the back of Kit and Hale’s heads.

But Sophos is using his sound power to slow them down. Kit and his parents clutch their ears and jerk with pain. Meanwhile, Malick Rennet has reached his twins on the platform and is frantically cutting through their bindings with a kitchen knife.

“Purge them, before they get away!” I’m close enough to hear Sophos barking at Nunias now. The cleric draws his sword and, in a horrible echo of my fever dream, starts to execute the prisoners.

He starts with Freya.

She doesn’t get two steps before his sword connects with her neck. A raw scream of anguish rips from my throat as her body hits the ground. I can’t look at the spot where she lies, keeping my eyes averted from the tangle of pale limbs and the pool of blood.

I can hear the other fae fighting, cutting down the cleavers, but they’re too far away to save my friends. The noise around me shifts to a dull buzz. I watch in horror as Nunias lifts his sword again, aiming for the next prisoner, but the Rennet twins get to him first. Now free of their bindings, they combine their geostri magic, thick vines erupting over the platform and tangling around Nunias’s legs.

I’m two feet away now—then one—and then I throw myself toward Tira, my hood falling back from my face as I climb up onto the platform.

“Ana,” she gasps, and I waste no time slicing my knife through her dimane bindings.

“I had to come back for you,” I say. She doesn’t answer, her eyes going wide as she stares at something behind me. A moment later, Tira throws me to the platform floor. I look up and see Nunias swinging his blade where my head was a second ago. Scraps of vine still wrap around his feet, but the twins and their father are nowhere to be seen.

Remembering my combat lessons, I kick out at Nunias, hard. It’s enough to push him off balance. He steps back to catch himself, sword still swinging, and only now sees my face. His eyes widen.

“You,” he says.

The platform behind him explodes.

Tira’s geostri magic flies past me as she pulverizes the wood, forcing splinters the size of my arm into Nunias’ back. He gargles, blood sputtering from his mouth, and stumbles again. When he falls this time, he doesn’t get back up. Tira jerks her hand, and a jagged plank tilts upward, impaling him through the stomach.

“Tira!” Kit and his parents shout from the ground. I look down to see them reaching up to her, no longer clutching their heads in pain.

Where is Sophos?

I spin around, seeing him standing over the dead bodies of two more of the prisoners. He looks focused as he wipes the handle of his sword on one of their shirts, removing some blood spatter. I’m the only thing standing in between him and the Holms family, and any moment now, he’s going to turn his attention to us.

“Run,” I tell Tira, pushing her toward the edge of the platform and her family. This is what I came here to do—to protect her. But I’m too late. Sophos’s bright eyes take in Nunias’s corpse, then they land on Tira and me, the only two people left standing on the platform. He lifts his hand.

A shriek fills my head, piercing my eardrums and sending me to my knees.

I think I must be screaming in agony, but I can’t hear anything above the sound lancing my ears. I press my hands tight against my head, but the noise feels like it’s vibrating through my bones to the point where I can barely think, let alone concentrate enough to summon my magic. Instead, I desperately look around, searching for help.

My eyes fall on Leon. Dead cleavers litter the ground in front of him, and his gaze is locked on me, but he’s separated from me by the fight still raging between the fae and Temple soldiers. I can see him mouthing my name, but the sight is quickly blurred by the tears of pain springing to my eyes. I sense Sophos moving toward me, and I pull my gaze away, looking back to the bearer.

I want to face my death head-on.

The shrieking stops. I blink as Sophos steps closer, confused as a new sound fills my ears. Music—calm and soothing.

Get up, Ana. It sounds like Leon’s voice, but it’s too close. Like he’s speaking right inside my ear.

Get up and fight.

I leap to my feet, the music still playing in my ears, and reach inward.

A golden glow shimmers at my fingertips. Sophos stops advancing, looking wary, and I feel the fizz of his magic trying to crawl into my ears and deafen me. But the music only gets louder, blocking his attempts.

Heat boils through my veins as I let my rage overwhelm me.

“If you love the gods so much,” I say to Sophos, “say hello to their power.”

I release a searing beam of sunlight from my palm.

Sophos gasps something—a holy oath, maybe—as he throws up his sword to block the beam. It melts the metal right down to the hilt, the handle glowing so hot he throws it down with a yelp. He turns and runs from the platform, but I send my magic burning after him. It hits him just as he jumps from the steps, catching him in the shoulder.

He releases a strangled scream as he falls, slamming against the ground. Then he’s still.

“Help!”

The Holms family, some of the few villagers left in the square, are cornered against the sanctuary wall by one of the cleavers. Una is standing between the soldier and her children, and I can see Hale trying to summon magic, but he’s exhausted his power.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I lift my hand, wondering if I can kill the cleaver from here without harming my friends. Then a black blur vaults over the platform toward them. At the sound of footsteps, the cleaver spins, only to be impaled on the end of a blade.

Leon kicks the body away as it falls, and I almost fall over myself, relief flooding through me.

“I think that’s about all of them,” he says.

I blink, not sure I understand him. That can’t be it.

Yet from where I stand, in a sea of corpses, I realize that no one from the Temple is left alive.

Except there’s someone missing.

I search for the purple robes, which should be clear as day even among the scattered bodies. But I can’t find them. I move to the far edge of the platform, jumping down to the spot where I know I saw Sophos fall.

He’s gone.