A cold wind blew off Ramiel’s sides. Whispering, murmuring.
“They call this climb the Breaking for a reason,” Emerie countered gravely.
Nesta added, “We haven’t eaten in days. We’re down to the last of our water. To climb that mountain—”
“I have been broken once before,” Gwyn said, her voice clear. “I survived it. And I will not be broken again—not even by this mountain.”
Nesta and Emerie kept silent as Gwyn released a sharp breath. “A commander from Hybern raped me two years ago. He had his soldiers hold me down on a table. He laughed the entire time.”
Tears gleamed in Gwyn’s eyes. “Hybern attacked in the dead of night. We were all asleep when they broke into the temple and began the slaughter. I shared a room with my twin, Catrin. We woke at the first of the screaming from the walls. She was … Catrin was always the strong one. The smart and charming one. After our mother died, she took care of me. Looked out for me. And that night, she ordered me to go protect Sangravah’s children while she ran right for the temple walls.”
Gwyn’s voice shook. “When I reached the children’s dorm, the slaughter was only a few halls away. I gathered the children, and we ran for one of the catacomb tunnels. They were accessible through a trapdoor in the kitchen, and I’d gotten the last child in when I heard the soldiers coming. I … I knew they’d find us if I went and left the door uncovered, so I threw a rug over it and then moved the kitchen table atop it. I’d just finished moving the table when the soldiers found me.”
Nesta couldn’t breathe. Gwyn stared at the mountain rising high above. Even the wind had seemed to quiet to hear her words.
“The screaming had stopped, and they had other priestesses with them. Including Catrin. But their commander walked in, and asked me where the rest of us were. They wanted the children, too. The girls.”
Nesta could hear Emerie’s thundering heart, its frantic beat echoing her own.
Gwyn swallowed. “I told him the children had taken the mountain road to get help. He didn’t believe me. So he grabbed Catrin, because our scents were nearly identical, you see, and told me that if I didn’t reveal where the children were, he’d kill her. And when I didn’t give the children up …” Her mouth shook. “He beheaded Catrin right there, along with two other priestesses. And then he told his soldiers to go to work on us. He claimed me. I spat in his face.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “And then he … went to work.”
Nesta’s heart cracked.
“I hadn’t yet participated in the Great Rite, and we were so remote up there that I never had the chance to lie with a male, and he took that from me, too. And then he called over three of his soldiers and told them to keep going until I revealed where the children had gone.”
Nausea roiled Nesta’s gut. She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to.
“The first had just unbuckled his belt when Azriel arrived.” Silent, unending tears streamed down Gwyn’s face.
“Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it. Morrigan arrived a few minutes later, and then Rhysand appeared, and it became clear some of the soldiers had gotten away with the piece of the Cauldron, so Azriel headed after them. Mor healed me as best she could, then brought me to the library. I couldn’t … I couldn’t bear to be at the temple, with the others. To see Catrin’s grave and know I failed her, to see that kitchen every day for the rest of my life.
“The first five months I was at the library, I barely spoke. I didn’t sing. I went to the priestess who counsels all of us, and sometimes I just sat there and cried, or screamed, or said nothing. And then I began working with Merrill, upon Clotho’s request, and the work focused me. Motivated me to get out of bed each morning. I started singing during the evening service. And then you came along, Nesta.”
Gwyn’s eyes slid to hers, brimming with tears and pain and—hope. Precious, beautiful hope. “And I could tell something bad had happened to you, too. You were fighting it, though. Not letting it master you. I knew Catrin would have been the first to sign up for training, so … I did, too. But even training these months hasn’t erased the fact that I let my sister die. You asked me once why I don’t wear the hood or the Invoking Stone. That stone is a sign of holiness. How can someone like me wear it?”