A Court This Cruel & Lovely (Kingdom of Lies, #1)(65)

He’d seemed bemused by himself, as if unused to laughing.

We don’t think about him, Prisca.

I lounged in the bath, stopping and starting time to stretch out the bath while also getting some practice in. It gave me time to go over everything I’d heard so far.

I’d seen a variety of people in the castle. Some of them had already reached their Gifting, the blue on their temples marking them as safe. But plenty of younger servants were here as well. According to Auria, several of the queen’s ladies hadn’t yet reached twenty-five winters.

Auria knew more than I could’ve hoped, but she wasn’t an idiot. She’d made a few comments that told me just how closely she paid attention to everyone around her. Hopefully, she could also tell me where the dungeon was. The sooner I could see Asinia, the sooner I could begin working on a plan to get her out.

Finally, the water was cold, and my eyes were heavy with the strain of holding my power. Slipping out of the bath, I pulled on the dress, braided my hair, and opened the door to find Auria waiting for me.

“We can go to the sanctuary together,” she said, taking my arm once more. “This service is just for people who work in the castle. The royal family and the courtiers have their own service available to them in the mornings, although few of the nobles worship as they should.” She frowned.

The sanctuary turned out to be in a separate building behind the castle. The stone was so light it was almost white, and the walls inside were draped with swaths of light-blue cloth. Hundreds of servants dressed in maroon were making their way from the castle toward the sanctuary, and Auria and I joined the crowd shuffling inside.

The ceiling of the sanctuary towered over our heads, adorned with gold etchings. Huge windows on either side spilled the last of the daylight onto the wooden floors, and I followed Auria to a chair a few rows from the front.

Glancing behind me, I looked for Tibris but couldn’t see him anywhere. The skin on the back of my neck tingled, and I turned back around to find one of the king’s assessors sweeping his gaze over the crowd. His black robes swished around his feet as he turned to the priestess.

I sucked in a breath. The High Priestess. She wore a long blue-and-gold gown, a plain gold diadem on her head. I wanted to rip it off her and slam it into her face.

“Are you well, Setella?” Auria asked.

“Yes. Merely excited to worship.” Did the assessors know what the king did with our stolen magic? Did the priestesses know?

The crowd quieted, and the High Priestess launched into her prayers. Most of them were the same as those that were said during Giftings and Takings in the villages, and I followed along automatically.

I turned my attention to the assessor, watching him beneath my lashes. Even disguised as I was, I had to fight the urge to duck lower, hiding myself within the crowd. This assessor was an older man, tall and lean. A permanent frown line was etched between his brows, and his mouth turned down with displeasure. He angled his head, revealing a long scar across his neck.

I drew in a slow breath as nausea swept through my body.

I was eight winters, and we were preparing to move once more. I would miss my friends, but Papa said it was an adventure, and Tibris had promised he would make enough friends for both of us.

One of our neighbors had insisted we attend a party at her house. Ovida was one of the wealthiest women in our village and had become friends with my mother. Her son Ardaric was Tibris’s age. He and Tibris would sometimes let me play by the river with them.

“Come, Prisca. Have something to eat.” Ovida smiled down at me.

The door crashed open. Ovida whirled, her smile disappearing. My father grabbed my hand and pulled me away, holding me close. “Tibris,” he called, and I’d never heard his voice sound like that before.

Papa was scared.

Tibris stood next to Ardaric, both of them staring at the doorway.

I turned my head, dread rippling through my body.

A man dressed in black robes stalked into the room, guards behind him. “Ardaric Narayon,” he called, and Tibris went rigid, shoving his friend behind him. Papa let out a desperate, choked sound that made my chest hurt.

The assessor strolled toward Tibris, and all I could see was my brother’s face, so pale, his lower lip trembling. But he stood his ground.

I launched myself toward him. Papa scooped me up, holding me against his chest and covering my mouth with his huge hand. I twisted in his arms until I could see the assessor looming over Tibris, his hand inches away from his chest. The assessor angled his head and then pushed Tibris away. Mama darted forward and grabbed Tibris’s arm, pulling him toward us.

Ardaric faced the assessor. His chin stuck out, but his eyes were wide and glassy. I kept my gaze on his face as Mama took me from Papa’s arms. Ovida was struggling in the arms of one of the guards,

“Please, please don’t hurt him. Please!” Ovida screamed. “He’s just a little boy.”

Why would Ardaric be hurt? He’d never hurt anyone in this village. He always shared his toys.

Mama leaned close until her lips were pressed against my ear.

“Watch, Prisca. Watch closely. See what happens when a child is caught using forbidden magic.”

The assessor was smiling now, his hand hovering above Ovida’s chest.

“One of the corrupt, here in this very village,” he announced.

“Ardaric!” a voice roared. Matous was here. Ardaric’s father was a bear of a man, and he carried his sword. He sliced through one of the guards holding his wife. The assessor ducked, but Matous caught his neck with the edge of his sword. Blood sprayed.