Page 63

Morgana

“ T here it is. The cradle of evil.”

Harman’s tone is ironic, but as we bend to peer through the trees, a shiver still runs up my spine.

Bastion lurks in the valley below us. Though it’s surrounded by rolling hills and grassland, the Temple’s training school is cut off from it all by tall stone walls.

From this height, I can see the buildings are laid out like army barracks, arranged in neat rows around a central structure that appears to be a sanctuary.

It might look banal, but I get Harman’s point. This is the place the Temple takes children to mold them into monsters.

Eryx points to a group of red-robed figures standing outside Bastion’s gates. “There’s the guards.”

“Why does a training school need so many guards?” Damia asks.

“Yes, is it to keep someone out, or the children in?” Alastor asks ominously.

“That’s because of us,” Harman admits. “We attacked this place a few years ago. We wanted to free the children and damage the buildings. We had some success with the latter, but since then they’ve raised security.”

“And the children?” Phaia asks.

“We couldn’t get them to leave. They don’t need guards for the children because they have other ways of keeping them docile,” Harman says darkly. “That’s why we scheduled this for their prayer time. It’s part of the plan. Come on.”

We descend the ridge, heading back down to the camp where members of the Hand are enjoying a last meal before we attack. The food is cold—we can’t risk the smoke from fires giving away our presence—but I still enjoy the bread and meat packed up by Heda’s staff at the Crossed Keys.

I left Dots there with Tira, hoping he’d be some comfort to her. But he’d whined the whole time I said goodbye, and Tira barely spoke a word to me, though she did hug me tightly before I left.

“Your sensic magic will be a big help,” Harman says to the fae as we eat. “It’s an advantage we didn’t have before. You’re confident it’ll work?”

Several of the fae give Harman a withering look.

“Yes, it’ll work,” Leon says bluntly.

Alastor helps Harman by explaining further.

“Some of the clerics are trained to block sensic magic—the cleavers especially—but you said they don’t keep any cleavers here, and the acolytes likely won’t have the skill.

That just leaves the grown clerics who act as the guards and instructors, but they won’t be expecting sensic magic, so we can catch them by surprise. ”

Harman gives Alastor a grateful nod and glances at Esther. “Then now, we wait.”

“Prayer time is at four o’clock,” she says. We’ve been over this, but I’m jittery enough that I’m glad for the review. “That’s when all the acolytes will be in the central sanctuary hall.”

“And that’s when they’ll be most distracted?” I press.

“Yes. They meditate with communal chanting,” Esther says.

Mal, seated beside Esther, shudders. “It’s creepy as fuck. Especially with that incense they use.”

“Opios,” Esther says. “They burn it to put them into a trance-like state, which makes them more suggestible. That’s why they need to do it every day. It keeps them brainwashed and obedient.”

“A decade of opios, and of course those children are convinced they’re doing the will of the gods, and that the Temple is Ethira’s righteous army on earth,” Harman says bitterly.

I shake my head, horrified by the concept.

Remember, that’s why we’re here.

The thought calms my nerves and helps me refocus.

We might not be able to save those children today, but by stealing the codex and finding what Caledon’s up to, we’ll be one step closer to defeating him and bringing the Temple to its knees.

Then we can make sure no child is taken from its family and warped by the Temple again.

The codex is where I come in. We don’t know where it is in Bastion, but if it’s somewhere hard to access, my orbital power could be useful.

Since I’m going into the complex, Leon insisted on coming with me, along with Eryx and Alastor.

Harman drew the line at any more than the four of us going, arguing that trying to get too many people in would be sure to alert the clerics to our presence.

For his part, he’ll stay outside the walls in case we need the rebels to cause a big distraction during our escape.

“What kind of distraction?” I’d asked when we were planning things back in Tread.

“I’m a geostri. Strong roots are my thing. I can grow them quickly enough to break stone apart if I find the weak points,” he’d explained. “If we have to, we can bring down one of the outer walls and draw the clerics away from your group.”

Later, I’d teased Leon about him and Harman sharing a terrial element. He hadn’t been amused.

In fact, Leon has been quiet since we left Tread, even for him.

I’m trying not to worry, but there’s distance between us, and I can’t put my finger on whether it’s my fault or his.

I know he’s reluctant for me to participate in this mission, but I thought he’d accepted it.

Then again, maybe not. I watch, unsettled, as he finishes his lunch and rises in silence, leaving the camp to go check on his horse in the trees.

I follow him, needing this resolved. He’s my anchor, and when I’m disconnected from him, I feel adrift.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Leon,” I say.

He has his back to me, and I reach out to place a tentative hand at the base of his spine.

“Remember, Hyllus will stay with the rebels, which means he’ll be able to hear any signal we send from inside the complex and relay it to the Hand.

We won’t be alone in there, and it won’t be solely on you to protect me. ”

He turns, and I’m taken aback by the emotion in his eyes.

The intensity. Without a word, he pulls me to him and kisses me so hungrily and ferociously I think I might catch fire just from the heat of it.

I respond in kind, gripping his shirt to force him closer, wrapping an arm around his neck so I can lean back and open myself to him, moaning as his tongue caresses mine.

He steals my breath and my strength, my knees weakening from the pleasure rushing through me.

And then, when he’s pulled one last whimper from me and my mind is utterly hazy, he retreats.

Leon gently untangles himself from me and steps back, his body language becoming stiff and closed off.

What’s worse is he won’t meet my gaze as he turns and walks back toward the camp, leaving me alone and totally confused.

Why is he so cold one moment and so hot the next?

I understand that Leon might be afraid for me like I am for Tira, but that doesn’t explain this back and forth.

I can’t shake the feeling there’s something bigger he’s holding back, not a secret, but some thought that’s giving a sharper edge to his fear. Yet I can’t say what.

I don’t have time to work it out, however, because when I walk back to the camp, the rebels are packing up, preparing for their approach on Bastion. We split into our two groups, with Damia, Stratton, and Phaia going with Hyllus and Harman along with half a dozen rebels.

My team includes members of the Hand, Mal among them, and Harman addresses the rebels before we head down into the valley.

“The wall the entering party has to go over is close to the front gate, so remember not to make a move until your lookout sees the clerics leave their posts, understand? Hyllus here will use his sensic power once he hears the sanctuary bell ring for prayer time.”

Mal turns to Hyllus. While the other rebels sometimes steer clear of him due to his intimidating size, the part-dryad never seems fazed by the fae.

“You said you could make people hear things, right?” Mal asks. “What are you going to make the clerics hear that’ll get them away from the gate?”

“An acolyte somewhere in the foothills, shouting for help,” Hyllus says.

“You really think they’d leap into action for a hurt child?” one of the rebels says skeptically. “That’s what they do in there already—hurt children.”

“Even a villain likes to think of himself as a hero,” Hyllus says quietly. “Especially those who don’t get much of a chance to be heroic in their day-to-day lives.”

Harman nods. “Hyllus is right. The clerics will go looking for one of their own, and that’s when we’ll strike.”

He looks around at the rebels, his earnest charisma ensuring every one of them hangs on his words.

“Stay alert, be brave, and have faith that we’ll secure a win against the Temple.

Whatever Caledon’s been looking for he wanted badly.

Today, we’ll find out what it is. Tomorrow, we’ll take that from him too. ”

There are murmurs of agreement from the rebels as Harman salutes them.

“Freedom over fear,” he calls.

“Freedom over fear!” the rebels chant back. I join in, my heart lifting with the words. That’s all I ever wanted—to be free and not afraid. My people want it too, and maybe today I’ll help bring them closer to it.

Harman clasps my hand as we start to move out.

“Thank you, sister. We couldn’t have gotten this far without your help.”

I nod an acknowledgment, warmth flooding through me. “Be safe out there.”

“You too.” He smiles, and then we’re turning away from each other, taking different paths under the leafy trees and into the shadows.

I’m tense all the way through the hills. But the rebels and the fae all know what they’re doing. Eryx seems able to spot the easiest, quietest route from about a mile away, and the rebels have pored over maps to make sure we stay out of the line of sight of anyone at Bastion’s gates.

We reach the outer wall in good time, fanning out along it.

Then we take a moment for the four of us—me and the fae—to don our disguises.

It feels wrong wearing the red of the Temple—all on its own, the color makes me vaguely nauseous—but I pull on the robes anyway, hoping I won’t have to wear them for long.