Page 9 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams (Fated to the Sun and Stars #3)

Heart thudding, I ask myself if this is some kind of trick. But why would Caledon bother? Mind games don’t seem like his style. No, he’s quite happy with plain old brutality. Still, I proceed with caution, unsure if I can trust the voice.

“Are you in another cell?” I speak into the grate, and the answer rises up to me on the putrid air.

“Yes. It must be the one beside yours. They share a drain, I guess.” The voice sounds flat, emotionless.

“What did you say before?” I ask, trying to collect my thoughts. “About Caledon waiting to take my magic?”

“You’re a solari, aren’t you?” the voice replies. “I thought I heard them saying so when they brought you down here. The Grand Bearer will wait until you’ve healed to cleanse you. He’ll want your body and your power strong again, so he’ll get the most benefit.”

The most benefit. How does she know that? As far as I’m aware, he’s kept his secret of what he gets out of these “cleansings” from pretty much everyone in Trova. Then I remember how she’d called him the Grand Bearer.

“Are you a cleric?” I ask, my suspicion mounting.

A pause, then the answer comes softly. “Yes. Or I was. I don’t know what I am now.”

My wariness grows. Did Caledon put her down here to trap me, to get me to spill my secrets?

But no. It makes no sense as a cover story.

Why have her claim she’s a cleric rather than an innocent citizen?

Plus, if she really does work for the Temple, I doubt Caledon would want her knowing there’s a theory floating around about him being able to absorb solari power—even if it did help lure me in.

He’d want to protect himself first and foremost.

“You sound young,” I observe carefully .

“I’m seventeen.”

So only just out of acolyte training then. Practically still a child. What could she possibly have done to get herself thrown down here with a heretic like me?

“I’m Morgana,” I say.

“Lafia,” she answers.

“Nice to meet you, Lafia. Well, maybe not like this.”

She chuckles a little at my joke. “Yeah, I can think of better circumstances.”

Picturing her, so young and lost in a cell like mine, rattles away some of the despair I was feeling before. Now I have a focus outside of myself, beyond the shadows of this room, and it helps to clear my head.

“How come you think Caledon’s going to use my power?” I ask.

She pauses before answering. “You don’t sound surprised at the idea.”

“I’m not,” I say. “I know what he does. What he is . But I’m wondering how a cleric worked it out.”

“So I’m right, aren’t I?” she says, and even more life comes into her voice. “He’s a solari. Or something like it. He uses celestial magic. I knew it.”

“How did you work it out?” I press. If she’s faking her triumph, she’s a terrific actor.

“I was an attendant at the high temple. Gods, I was so proud. The high temple , as my first posting? Only the best and brightest acolytes get an opportunity like that.”

“But you were too smart,” I guess.

“I saw them bring the heretics in—” She stops, then corrects herself with an apologetic tone.

“I mean, the solari. You know, taking them to the Grand Bearer to be cleansed. But the thing is…most of them were children. Everyone makes it sound like solari are all power-crazed thieves, but I mean, how could a child steal from the gods? How would they even know what to do? And if it was their parents stealing for them, why were the children blamed? Why not the parents?”

“Exactly,” I say, hoping this is going where I think it is .

“So I watched one of the cleansings.” I can hear the revulsion in her voice.

“It was awful . I tried to tell myself that it was like they teach us at the Bastion. It takes sacrifice to protect the world from evil, and we have to do hard things sometimes. The cleansings are a burden the Grand Bearer carries for the rest of us, and it’s why he deserves our loyalty and dedication in return.

Except…something was off. I though the Grand Bearer seemed…

I don’t know, somehow younger after the cleansing. Stronger too.”

“Let me guess: you talked to the wrong people about it?”

Her voice flattens again. “Yes. You must think I’m an idiot.”

“No, I think you’re someone who spent the last decade being taught one view of the world, only to have it start falling apart when you got a closer look at how things actually work.”

“I didn’t know that’s what was happening at first. I was just curious. I wanted to understand.” The words come out of her like a flood. How long has she waited to explain this to someone?

“Some of the other junior clerics chalked it up to the gods—saying that they were blessing the Grand Bearer for his sacrifice. Then I heard a rumor that the Temple hadn’t always known solari were heretics, and I asked one of the more senior clerics if it was true.

Well, then they wanted to know why I was so interested. And like a fool, I told them.”

“So they threw you in here,” I finish.

“Yes. The only reason they haven’t executed me yet is they want to know who else I’ve spread my theory to. They questioned me.” A tightness in her words tells me how horrific that experience must have been. “I didn’t have any names to give them, so they’ve put me here to give me time to think.”

Seventeen. Her whole life was supposed to be ahead of her—and now she’s had everything taken away. I guess we’re both stuck here now, waiting for the clerics to come to march us to our deaths.

The hopelessness of it threatens to let the despair back in, until Lafia interrupts my thoughts.

“Come on, I’ve told you my sad story. Don’t I get anything in return?”

It’s the kind of thing Tira might say. She’s always teasing me when life looks bleak, and the reminder warms me .

However much she jokes, though, this girl is probably more terrified than I am.

I thought I lived a sheltered life brought up in the manor, but at least Etusca and my parents only deceived me about myself.

The Temple reshapes the whole world for its recruits, telling them that cruelty is kindness and fear is a virtue.

“My full name is Morgana Angevire,” I tell Lafia.

“The princess?” she gasps.

I decide I won’t tell her anything Caledon doesn’t already suspect, especially anything he could use to harm my friends. After all, even if Lafia’s story is true, I don’t want to give her information they might try to torture out of her.

“Yes,” I say. “Although like you, there’s a lot I didn’t know about growing up. Including who I really was.”

I start to tell her my story, at least the parts I know Caledon can’t use against her or me. It helps her, I think. At least it offers some distraction from this nightmare. As I talk, I find myself wanting to protect her from that darkness, and eventually I can’t help but say it.

“It might still be okay, Lafia. We could survive this.”

There’s a long silence before she answers. “You don’t know that.”

“No,” I say. “But it’s not over yet. Help might still come.”

We lapse into silence until I think she might have fallen asleep. I try to sleep too, but it doesn’t come easily. Whether or not I convinced Lafia, I don’t think help is coming, and my fear weighs on me.

And yet, as I slip into a fitful sleep, a pair of fathomless, gray eyes find me in my dreams.