Page 61 of The Idol

Not even me.

“I will purify him,” Malachi said, voice resolute. “The Light demands it.”

The world blurred at the edges. Blood rushed in my ears so loudly I couldn’t hear myself breathe.

Father was going to whip him.

Whiphim.

For something he didn’t evendo.

Shock hit me so violently that my fingers went numb. My throat worked, but no sound came out.

I knew—somewhere inside—that I should speak. I should plead. I should stop him. I should stand, step down from the Seat, tell the truth—

That Silas wasn’t sinful.

ThatIwas the one struggling with impurity.

That something had happened tomelast night.

ThatIwas afraid.

The congregation stared with wide, trembling eyes. The two men braced Silas between them. My father stood before all of them, whip in hand, waiting for silence.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t speak.

Father’s arm drew back.

And I felt the room tilt around me.

“No!” I finally yelled, my voice panicked and desperate.

Every eye in the place turned to me. I sat frozen, shocked at myself for actually speaking.Oh no.Father slowly dropped his hand and looked at me scathingly, his jaw tight.

“No?” he asked, his voice full of grit.

The congregation erupted in whispers. I swallowed thickly as Father left Silas and stalked closer to me.

Once he was at my side, he lowered his voice so only I could hear it. “How dare you, boy,” he hissed. Before he continued, my racing mind settled on something, and I rushed to blurt it out.

“Use me, Father. Please. Punish me in his place.”

Father’s eyebrows leapt, then furrowed. “What good would that do?”

“Um, well…”

Father’s eyes searched mine as he contemplated my request. “The Vessel taking a sinner’s penance would be seen as divine mercy.”

“Yes, please, Father,” I pleaded, willing to agree with anything if it meant saving Silas from being whipped.

He took another moment to examine my face, then said, “Very well.”

I sighed in relief.