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“Time to go. Stick to the plan,” Andor says, grabbing my hand with one hand as he grips the door handle with the other. “They’ll wake up in a bit completely fine. But someone else will discover them any minute and we need to be out of here.”

I can barely take in what he’s saying as he opens the door and we’re staring at the long, wide expanse of the chapel of the Sisters of the Highest Order.

It’s nearly all dark, except for a few sconces flickering here and there, and the dragon statues that flank the obsidian-tiled hall reach up to ten feet in the air, some nearly brushing the ceiling beams. At the end is the entrance to the chapel, where the fermented herbs smoke from hanging spheres.

The doors to the chapel are open. The hall is silent and empty.

Andor pulls me inside and Kirney quietly shuts the stairwell door behind us before we hurry to the shadows beneath a lumbering elderdrage statue, hidden from sight of anyone who might pass.

“Are you all right?” Andor whispers to me.

I shake my head. “No. I’m not.”

“They’ll recover with only a headache,” Kirney assures me.

“It’s not that,” I say in a hush, aware of how silent this place really is. “It’s that her tongue was cut out. Can you imagine?”

“But it didn’t happen to you,” he says quietly. “And what’s one way to get back at this institution? Steal the prized possession that will give us the upper hand. Now come on, lavender girl. Let that anger fuel you. That’s what it does best.”

He’s right. I need to hold myself together. I give them a determined nod. “All right. Eyes on the prize, then.”

Unfortunately that means waiting in the shadows for the right opportunity to come along.

We wait for a while under the dragon, breathing in the herbaceous air, studying the other dragon statues across from us, our wet clothes still dripping onto the tiles in a slowing rhythm.

I can’t help but think about my time spent here, drowning in rage and grief, feeling so fucking lonely that I thought I would die.

I suppose in some ways I’m proud of myself for actually surviving it and eternally grateful to my aunt for helping me escape.

She would have loved this , I think to myself, and for the first time since she died, my heart swells with gratitude for her, and the pain is kept at bay. She would have loved to join this team. She would have led the charge.

Footsteps break up my thoughts.

“Listen,” I whisper to the guys, but obviously they’ve already heard it from a mile away.

The footsteps keep coming, growing closer, originating from behind us and down another hall.

They build and build, along with small chatter that reminds me of squeaking rats.

The older Daughters are no longer bound by the vow of silence, and I think this makes them talk more to make up for it.

“Get ready,” Andor says to me. “Pick off the easiest one. We’ll be waiting here for you when you get back with the egg.”

Then they enter our frame, the Sisters of the Highest Order, a dozen of them walking single file with large spaces between them, muttering a prayer over and over. I remember that prayer, the one that prayed for the wards to fall.

Their religion is based on the end of the world for everyone but them , I think bitterly. As if they’re that special.

We watch as they head toward the chapel. I don’t have much time to act.

I give the guys a knowing look and then we start running as quietly as possible along the backside of the dragons, between them and the obsidian walls.

I scurry along until I’m keeping pace with the last Sister in line, just before they’re all swallowed up by the mouth of the chapel. Then I quickly run across the aisle and grab her by the mouth, sword at her throat, pulling her back into the shadows before she has a chance to scream.

The woman squirms beneath my grip, but she’s weak, and I flip her over and press her to the cold floor, my hand still over her mouth, pressing the black veil into her lips as I straddle her.

“I’m going to give you a choice,” I tell her, knowing I could just drag her back to Kirney for him to work his magic.

“You make a sound, you die. You stay quiet, you just might live.”

The woman stops squirming and I take it as a sign that she wants to play nice. I remove the sword and my hand long enough to flip the veil up over her head.

And see Sister Marit staring back at me with cold beady eyes, her skin pale and sagging. Her eyes widen at the sight of me, but in pure fright. She wouldn’t recognize me with my long lilac hair.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” I sneer at her, holding the sword so the tip is pressed up under her chin. “But I remember you. The scars on my back remember you. The sound of a whip makes me remember you. And after this, you’ll certainly remember me.”

“I see,” she says, speaking slowly so that my sword doesn’t puncture her. “One of our flock who has fallen to the wolves.”

“I haven’t fallen to the wolves,” I sneer. “I am the wolf.”

She blinks at me, finally afraid.

I press the blade in deeper, enough to draw blood.

“Tell me where they keep the egg of immortality. Tell me and I won’t punish you in the way you deserve.”

“I would rather die,” Sister Marit says starkly, and in the coldness of her eyes, she means it.

She wants it. These lunatics have craved the superiority of death since the day they were born.

As much as I need—want—to slit her throat, I can’t give in to her.

“Andor, Kirney,” I whisper to the guys who have been hovering in the shadows. “Open her mouth.”

They don’t hesitate. They’re on her in a flash, Kirney grabbing hold of her top teeth, careful not to use his thumbs yet, while Andor grips her jaw open at the bottom.

The woman starts to thrash and scream but I work fast, lodging the blade of my sword sideways into her mouth to muffle the sound.

I’ve never cut out anyone’s tongue before and I know she’ll die from this in the end, but at least I’m making a point, even if it’s one that only has weight with me.

“This is for all of those you’ve silenced,” I tell her, and start sawing the sword in her mouth. It cuts through the corners, making blood pour down, and I think I only get halfway through her tongue before she starts to gurgle and cough on her blood.

I remove the sword and nod at Kirney. “Now.”

He places his thumb on the woman’s cheek and she goes limp and I quickly roll her over on her side so that the blood pours out of her mouth.

Then, with the help of Andor, I start pulling her clothes off until I’ve removed her black robe and veil, leaving her in her shift.

I try not to look at her frail, old body, try not to feel remorse for what I’ve just done, try to remember the monster that resides in this woman, the same monster that lives inside all the Sisters here.

But is it really her fault? Brainwashed by the cult, by the government? Did they not create the evil inside her?

I shake the thoughts out of my head. I can’t take it back and I have no time for guilt or reflection, not now.

I slip on her robe and veil, wrinkling my nose at the smell, like something astringent mixed with rotted herbs, and look at the guys, trying my best not to stare at her unconscious body as it bleeds out onto the floor.

“I have to leave you now,” I whisper.

“We’ll be here when you get back,” Andor says.

We stare at each other for a moment, though I’m aware he can’t actually see my eyes through the black veil.

Then he flips the veil back over my head, grabs me by the face, and kisses me deeply.

“Good luck, lavender girl,” he whispers as he pulls away, his gaze feverish, mouth open like he wants to say something else. “I…I…”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, though my heart feels like it’s in a vise. What if I don’t see him again? There’s a chance I won’t come out of this alive. From now on, I’m by myself. No Lemi, no Andor, no Ellestra.

Just me.

And it’s just as well. The score I have to settle is all my own.

I give them both a curt nod before I crumble under the weight of it all, and then I look both ways and step out into the black-tiled corridor.

Instinct tells me to run all the way to the Harbringer’s quarters, but with the disguise I have to believe that I won’t be found out.

I just have to act the part, I have to blend in.

I walk away from the chapel, making sure my gait is slow and delicate, just like Sister Marit, but hands clasped at my waist. I keep the robe material pulled over them, as my unlined olive skin will be the only thing that will give me away, and stride down the hall in the direction the Sisters had come from.

So far I see no one else, but that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t in my throat, that sweat isn’t prickling the back of my neck.

It isn’t until I’m at the main staircase that winds up through nearly all levels of the convent that my disguise is put to the test, light coming in from the stained-glass windows that rise from the bottom, reaching several stories high.

Here you can look up to the pointed ceiling where the mural of the end days is painted, dragons flying around the realm, their fire torching everyone except the Saints of Fire.

Absolutely ludicrous.

Then I look down at the main floor, at the Great Hall of Zoreth, where a group of the Daughters of Silence has gathered by the hearth, listening to one of the Sisters drone on about servitude.

What I wouldn’t give to set them all free, but I know that’s not what I’m here to do.

Perhaps some other day. Perhaps that will become my new purpose.

So I head up the stairs. On the way I pass a couple of Daughters of Silence, as well as a few Sisters. The Sisters I nod to, the Daughters I ignore, though under my veil I can see how they make the sign of respect across their heart, their eyes filled with so much fear.