“The gods hear and know all. Even what’s not spoken but resides in the heart,” the Duke said, and my stomach twisted with unease. “What can any of us expect?” he repeated. “When those the gods have done all to protect, come before us, questioning the Rite?”
I tensed. Immediately, the image of Mr. and Mrs. Tulis formed in my mind. He hadn’t said their names, but he might as well have screamed them from the top of Castle Teerman. I didn’t see them in the crowd, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
“What can anyone expect when there are those who wish to see us dead?” Teerman asked, raising his hands. “When we are the gods given form and the only thing that stands between you and the Dark One and the curse his people have cast upon this land.”
And yet, not a single Ascended—not the Duke or Duchess or any of the Lords or Ladies—had raised one hand to defend the Rise. All of them were faster and stronger than any guard. I imagined they could’ve taken down double the amount of Craven I had with a bow, and just like Hawke had said, they had a higher likelihood of surviving an attack.
“What do you think would’ve happened if the Craven had crested the Rise?” Teerman lowered his hands. “Many of you were born within these walls and have never experienced the horror of a Craven attack. Some of you know, though. You come from cities less guarded or were attacked on the roads. You know what would’ve happened if only a handful made it past our guards—if the gods had turned their backs on the people of Solis. It would’ve been the wholesale slaughter of hundreds. Your wives. Your children. Yourselves. Many of you would not be standing here.” He paused, and the crowd swelled—
It happened again.
I felt my senses stretch out from me, and that wasn’t too surprising. With a crowd like this, it was hard to keep myself locked down, but I didn’t… I didn’t just feel pain.
Something touched the back of my throat, reminding me of what I’d felt in the atrium with Loren.
Terror.
I felt terror swelling and rising, coming from so many different directions as my gaze skittered from face to face. Another sensation reached me. It was hot and acidic. It wasn’t physical pain. It was anger. My heart started thumping. I wasn’t feeling pain, but I…I had to be feeling something. It didn’t make sense, but I could sense it pressing against my skin like a hot iron. My throat dried as I swallowed hard. People clasped their hands under their chins and prayed to the gods. I took a small step back. Others stared, their expressions hard—
Vikter’s hand touch my shoulder as he murmured. “Are you all right?”
Yes?
No?
I wasn’t sure.
Anxiety-spiked adrenaline flooded my system as icy ghost fingers danced along the back of my neck. Pressure clamped down on my chest. I wanted to run. I needed to get as far away from people as I could.
But I couldn’t.
Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing as I struggled to rebuild my mental walls. I kept breathing, in and out, as deeply and slowly as I could.
“And, if you’re lucky, they’ll go for your throat, and it will be a quick death,” the Duke was saying. “Most of you will not be so fortunate. They’ll tear into your flesh and tissue, feasting on your blood while you scream for the gods you’ve lost faith in.”
“This is perhaps the least calming speech ever given after an attack,” Hawke muttered under his breath.
His comment jarred me out of my spiral of panic, the utter dryness of his words cutting the cord that connected me to the people. My senses reeled back, and it was like a door slamming shut, locking.
I felt…I felt nothing but my pounding heart and the sheen of sweat on my forehead. What he had done did more than loosen the hold the public’s fear had on me, it not only created a crack in its grip, it obliterated it. The feelings had vanished so quickly that I almost wondered if I had felt them at all. If it had just been my mind playing tricks on me as the faces before me became clear once more, a continuous onslaught of different shades of fear and panic—
My gaze sharpened as I took another look at the crowd, focusing on the faces that showed no emotion. Unnerved by their blank features, a trickle of unease curled its way down my spine. I focused on one of the men. He was younger, blond hair falling to his shoulders. He was too far away to make out his eye color, but he stared up at the Duke and Duchess, lips pressed firmly together, jaw a hard, broad line, while those who stood around him exchanged looks of terror.