Page 120 of The Lost Reliquary

I can see right away that the ruse is not going to fly.

“We heard what you said, Lys.” For the first time, a hint of anger breaks through Nolan’s carefully arranged mask. “About consuming the blood, killing the Goddess. Beingfree. Don’t deny it. No matter what you think, you tell the truth far better than you lie.”

My own fury rises to meet his. “Fine.” In an instant, the deceptions fall away, as liberating as the reality is damning. “Fuck Tempestra-Innara. Fuck what they did to us, what they turned us into. Yes, I agreed to help the heretics and do my own encore to Emmaus’s attack. All so I could be freed from their manipulative, horseshit ‘love.’?” I snicker. “And you would have been too, even if you assholes wouldn’t be smart enough to realize it.”

Caius strides forward and backhands me so hard I taste blood.

I laugh, loudly and for real this time, and spit red onto his boot. “Keep that. It’ll fetch a good price around here.”

He raises his hand again, then lets it fall. “I never believed such a foul thing as you could even exist. Divinely gifted—Chosen—and a traitor.” He takes a deep breath, composing himself. “You and the heretics will be punished. But them first, so you can watch what happens to your new friends.” He summons one of the Thorn Guard over. “The heretic she met with, have you found where he was going yet?”

The guard shakes his head awkwardly. “Arbiter Caius, we… we lost him.”

Caius reddens. “What?”

“We trailed him.” The guard delivers the report in a flat, detached tone. “Closely. But he… he turned down an alley. We were only a few steps behind, but when we entered it, he was gone. Disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” spits Caius. “A person doesn’t simply disappear.”

They do if they have a god on their side. I smile to myself, even though I won’t be getting the same assistance. “Tch, tch. You really think you’re gonna outsmart my ‘friends’ in their own city?”

Caius simmers. “The Goddess will send their legions. They might escape for now, but eventually theywillbe flushed out.”

No, they won’t, but that’s not an argument worth having.

“The heretics are roaches. It’s only a matter of time before they are crushed.” Caius’s eyes narrow. “But you…youwill pay a much higher price.”

I’m dead. The knowledge doesn’t sting quite as much as I expect. Not nearly as much as Nolan’s glare, which I can feel despite keeping my gaze firmly locked on the Arbiter. But maybe I’ve been dead since that morning in my village, that day on the ice, the moment a goddess’s blood passed my lips. Who I’ve been since is simply a puppet of Tempestra-Innara, as much as any of their avatars.

“You will be executed,” says Caius. “By the Goddess’s hand.”

“Yup,” I sigh. “The usual. Got it.”

“But first, your heresy must be found to be incontrovertible, here and now. You will bejudged.”

No.I jump to my feet, moving before I realize what I’m doing, but the guards are ready. Chains appear, weaving around me, driving me back to the ground as I struggle.

I can die. I can bear the thought of the divine flame consuming me, turning me to ash. But Caius, his Arbiter’s power, forcing its way into my mind?

No.No.

I kick, feel a bone break. Bite and taste blood that isn’t my own. It comes to nothing. There are too many Thorn Guard. Manacles lock around my arms, my wrists, my ankles. I am dragged onto my knees, subdued. Caius has handed the reliquary box to Nolan, whose expression is even emptier than before, lips pressed into a thin line. And in the Arbiter’s hand the blue bottle appears. A reliquary in its own way. Two drops, one in each eye. The last of the morning fog swirls around Caius as he steps forward, eyes alight with power. He reaches for me. There’s a heartbeat right before his fingers find my face, before his thumbs dig into my cheeks, that I think to fight back again. But then his flesh touches mine.

And I—

Forty-seven

Please… I will go quietly. To be purified by the flame cannot be worse than the judgement that condemned me to it.

—LAST WORDS OF THE HERETIC MIKOLAUS, IN THE ERA OF TEMPESTRA-INNARA

ENGULFING… SEARING… AGONY…

Descriptors that are too small. Decimation begins behind my eyes, flooding my throat, threading through my veins to the soles of my feet. Divinity turned violation, a torrent that shoves reality aside and sends me careening into some incomprehensible realm of semiconsciousness. I still sense the fleshy parts of me—knees aching against the hard stone, scream locked behind my teeth—even as my inner self is flayed open and turned out by the caustic invasion that is Caius. I can feel him, his mind throwing itself against mine, bruising wherever it lands. There’s no resisting; I might as well be a sheet of paper trying to stop the thrust of a sword. He breaks through, a lumbering, unyielding force that ruptures into uncountable icy shards, shredding its way through memory.

They are mine.

Through it all, that tiny clarity: An Arbiter cannot read thoughts. Only feelings. Intentions.