Page 86 of The Idol

She didn’t move.

Two acolytes rushed forward and gently lifted her to her feet. She let herself be led away, tears still dripping down her face.

The congregation continued to stand frozen.

Father turned back to our people with a soft, sighing voice.

“This was necessary,” he said. “And more may be necessary soon.”

Another ripple of terror ran through the crowd as Father stalked off towards his house.

I felt that storm gathering strength overhead—pressing tighter, swallowing the air.

Another set of eyes—Jace’s—caught my attention from across the crowd. He dipped his chin—barely a nod, barely a motion at all—toward the chapel doors behind me.

Meet me there,it said.

It was bold. Too bold.

The sun was still high, the courtyard still full of rattled people, the congregation still huddled together like a flock waiting for a predator to strike again.

We only met at night. We only spoke in shadows.

And Father’s gaze had been unforgiving today.

A nervous tremor curled down my spine, but Jace’s eyes offered a silent promise that I wasn’t alone in whatever was happening—whatever was coming. And right now, after what I had just seen, after the way Father had stared at me like he was trying to peel away my skin to check if I was still pure underneath…

I needed him.

I swallowed, then gave a short nod back—small and quick, hoping no one else would notice. I turned slowly, carefully, trying not to draw any attention as I slipped away from the crowd. No one stopped me. Everyone was too shocked, too enthralled by fear to care.

But with every step I took away from the courtyard, my anxiety grew.

I walked faster. By the time I reached the chapel doors, my hands were shaking so badly I had to hide them in my sleeves. Ipushed inside and let the heavy wooden door fall shut behind me with a muffled thud.

I practically ran back to my rooms, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. I walked to my bedroom and sank down onto the edge of my bed, heart pounding in my chest.

I shouldn’t be meeting Jace during the day.

Father would be furious if he knew.

But Father was already furious.

And the image of Marin—kneeling, crying, her hair falling like wheat being cut down—wouldn’t leave me.

My chest tightened painfully. I pressed my hands to my eyes. “Light preserve us…”

Footsteps sounded in the chapel—purposeful and familiar. My breath hitched as I waited.

A heartbeat later, the door to my rooms opened just enough for him to slip in. Jace moved quickly, closing it behind him before coming back to my bedroom.

For a moment, he didn’t speak.

He just looked at me.

“You okay?” he murmured.

The strangest thing happened then. My throat closed up, like the answer—no, I’m not okay—was too big to fit out of me.