Page 55

Brynla

A heist.

The moon has already waxed and waned since that time we lay in the glitter-snowed field by Lake Efst, and Andor asked if I would be willing to do a heist in order to exact revenge on the Daughters of Silence.

We had just been joking about his charm, so I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but the moment those words left his lips, the moment he said revenge , I knew I was already all in.

Of course I was furious with him, for the second time that day, for keeping yet another secret from me.

He had clearly been thinking about this for some time, stealing the rumored egg of immortality—enough so that he talked to my aunt about it the morning of her death.

But everything went to shit after that and he said he was waiting for the right time to fill me in.

That moment in the snow was a good a time as any. I think I managed to get out the majority of my anger at his betrayal through another onslaught of snowballs, even though I’m still a bit cranky about it.

Afterward we recovered Onyx and rode back through the tunnel and down the mountain to Stormglen, and we started discussing the heist in earnest. I wanted to stay mad at Andor, but the more he talked about the supposed egg of immortality—which is mind-blowing in itself—the more I focused my feelings on the idea of getting revenge on the convent and Esland as a whole.

Even if the whole thing turns out to be a wild-goose chase, it at least makes me feel like vengeance is in my grasp for the first time in my life.

Even if the egg isn’t there, or it doesn’t have any special powers, just fucking up the convent will be good enough for me.

By the time the evening rolled around—Andor and I conveniently skipped dinner to avoid his father and uncle—we had gathered in Steiner’s lab with the rest of his siblings, tossing around ideas.

After that, the five of us would meet in Steiner’s lab every evening to strategize. The following week we started going down to Menheimr, where we would involve the rest of the crew, the same men who joined us on our journey to the Banished Land.

I have to say, these last few weeks have saved my sanity.

It’s given me something to focus on, an action to take.

Andor was worried I wouldn’t want to go back to Esland; he thought I would think he was using me to get the precious egg.

That hasn’t been the case at all. I’ve thrown myself into the planning of this heist because without me, there is no heist. I’m the only one who has been to Esland, who has lived in Lerick, who knows how to deal with the Black Guards.

I’m the only one who knows the convent inside and out, including where the egg would be kept.

None of this happens without me, which has made me crucial to every single meeting we’ve had, and in turn given me a sense of control.

But with the weeks of distraction, my grief has been shoved to the side. It’s been buried, compartmentalized, something horrible and dark that hovers just beneath my surface like a hole in the ground. It’s been waiting to swallow me alive.

And last night, as I lay in Andor’s arms in my bed, the ground opened up.

I cried and screamed and thrashed as the pain and sorrow ripped through me.

Every moment of grief that I tucked away was unleashed on me at once.

I should have known better. I knew I couldn’t escape it, I knew I had to make peace and look it in the eye every single day or it would try to destroy me.

Andor, bless his soul, held me. He simply held me when it felt like my body might shatter and I’d never be able to pick up all the pieces. He helped me stay intact and whole while the grief tried to eat me alive and spit me out.

Which is why he asked me this morning if I would have a session with Sae Balek, the Kolbecks’ Truthmaster.

To be honest, the idea scares me. I’d only seen the holy man a few times while I’ve been here, and he’s always stared into me with those unseeing yet all-knowing eyes.

I know that Torsten and Vidar have sessions with him several times a week, finding comfort or perhaps prophecy in the man’s chapel, but I have wanted to stay far away from anyone who had anything to do with the Daughters of Silence and the Esland government at any point, even if his spiritual guidance is benign.

But Vidar promised that the Truthmaster was good at helping people move through grief instead of burying it, and while Andor wasn’t a hundred percent sold on that idea, he did think the gold-eyed man could be an asset when it came to the heist. He might give us deeper info about the egg, about the details of the guard and government that I wouldn’t know, and more than that, I might be granted a vision that could help us with our goal.

“Are you ready?” Vidar asks me as we stand in the hallway with Andor, just outside the chapel. The sweet, heady smell of incense is already permeating the air through the closed door.

“I guess?” I say. “I don’t really know what to expect.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Andor says.

Truth is, I’m nervous. I would never admit that, especially not in front of Vidar, who has always been a bit of a grumpy enigma to me, enough so that I keep wanting his respect. Andor can tell, however, from the way he keeps reaching out for my hand and squeezing my fingers.

“It’s a very good thing,” Vidar says, briefly eyeing our hands before facing the door. “You need to keep your mind as open as possible.”

“Andor,” Torsten’s stern voice says from down the hall.

I look to see him by Steiner’s lab, beckoning for him to come over.

Andor sighs and straightens his shoulders before giving my hand another squeeze and walking off. He wasn’t planning on being in the room with me and Vidar anyway—Sae Belak is adamant about it only being open to earnest believers—but even so I hate to see him go.

I catch Torsten’s eye for a moment and he gives me the slightest nod.

It’s a lot more recognition than I’ve gotten over the last few weeks and I’ll take it, only because his complete avoidance of me has been awkward to navigate.

Like I’m a ghost in the room. Andor had told me that his father was somewhat impressed that I was going to see the Truthmaster, since it’s something that only he and Vidar do and the rest of the family abstains.

I thought maybe he would think I wasn’t good enough for it, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Perhaps yet another reason that Andor suggested I do this: to build up goodwill with his father.

Not that I care. I abhor his father, and his uncle even more so.

But I can’t live in a castle where the man in charge wants me dead and gone, especially when that man is my lover’s father.

I hate having to look over my shoulder every time I walk down the halls.

It makes me feel so small when he addresses everyone at the dinner table except for me, and even though I have Andor’s protection (as well as Lemi’s, and my own skills), I know it weighs on Andor to have such strain between his father and me, even if it’s all his father’s doing.

So I nod back at his father. He holds my eye for a moment and there is no kindness in his stare. But it’s enough for now.

A soft gong sounds from inside the room and I turn to face it just as the door opens, gray smoke wafting out. Sae Belak emerges as if he had been standing in front of us this whole time.

“I am so glad you finally accepted your truth,” the Truthmaster says, pressing his fingertips together, not like prayer, however, since his long, skinny fingers remain bent.

His eyes made of gold spheres stare right into me and I can feel myself being observed from the inside out.

Can’t say it’s a good feeling. “Sometimes death makes us realize what we’ve always known. Come in.”

He steps aside and gestures for us to come into the room, his long gray robe flowing from his arm like a sheet of water.

Vidar motions for me to go in first, gentlemanly in his manners, but I give him a subtle shake of my head. I don’t care if he knows I’m scared now. He’s going in first.

He gives me a reassuring look, which with him just means less of a frown, and steps into the smoke-filled room. I hesitate for a moment, comforted by the safety of the hallway, which is something I never thought I’d feel, before I square my shoulders and step inside.

“No need to hold your breath,” Sae Belak says as he closes the door behind me. The smoke in here is thick; I can barely see Vidar’s statuesque form, his dark clothes a moving shadow on the other side of the room near red velvet tapestries. “The smoke is what will help you. Breathe it in.”

My jaw is set, my body fighting against the idea of inhaling smoke, until my lungs feel gripped with panic and I can’t take it anymore.

I inhale, greedily, surprised to find the smoke to be cooling and fragrant, like I’m drinking water scented with various herbs and flowers.

“That’s it,” Sae Balek says as he walks across the room, his wavy red hair almost blending in with the tapestry. “Come, take a seat.”

I watch as he sits down on one of three gold-tasseled cushions circled around a firepit, the source of the smoke. Except it’s not quite a pit per se, but rather a large, wide dish made of gold, with a hunk of something waxy and brown in the middle where flames dance and flicker.

Two of the cushions are across from the Truthmaster, and Vidar takes a seat crosslegged on one of them, motioning with his chin for me to do the same.

I’m wearing a dress so I bundle it to the side, sitting on the pillow with my legs tucked under me. I’m a sorry attempt for a lady, but being here at Stormglen has instilled in me that I should at least try. “What is that?” I ask, staring at the burning brown stuff. “Incense?”

“A special resin that’s collected from some of the trees in the area,” Vidar says. “Steiner takes it and formulates it so it can burn for hours. It’s a drug.”