Sickness of the blood? The
ever-present anger boiled deep. The only sickness was the Ascended who preyed upon mortals at night while they slept. It was likely what had taken Jole Crain’s parents. It was what had turned that babe. Neither the young nor the old understood that what visited them in the night was no phantom or dream.
“I’m incredibly sorry to hear
that,” the Duchess said as she settled back in her seat, her delicate features fixed in sympathy. “And what of the second son?”
“We lost him to the same sickness that took Jamie,” the mother answered. “No more than a year into his life.”
Fuck.
“That is truly a tragedy,” the Duchess said. “I hope you find solace in the knowledge that your dear Jamie is with the gods, along with your second born.”
“We do,” Mrs. Tulis shared. “It’s what’s gotten us through his loss. We come today to hope, to ask…”
Oh, fuck.
I knew it before they even
spoke. I knew what they were about to ask for.
“We came here today to ask that our son not be considered for the Rite when he comes of age,” Mr. Tulis said, and a rolling gasp hit the Great Hall. His shoulders tensed, but he pressed on. “I know that it’s a lot to ask of you and the gods. He is our third son, but we lost our first two, and my wife, as much as she desires more babes, the Healers said she shouldn’t have more. He is our only remaining child. He will be our last.”
“But he is still your third
son,” Duke Teerman responded. “Whether your first thrived or not doesn’t change that your second son and now your third are fated to serve the gods.”
“But we have no other child, Your Grace.” Mrs. Tulis’s voice trembled as her chest rose.
“If I were to get pregnant, I could die. We—”
“I understand that,”
Duke Teerman interrupted. “And you do understand that while we’ve been given great power and authority by the gods, the issue of the Rite is not something we can change.”
“But you can speak with the
gods.” Mr. Tulis stepped closer but stopped when several Royal Guards shifted forward.
This was…
It was fucking
heartbreaking.
“You can speak with the gods on our behalf. Couldn’t you?” Mr. Tulis’s voice roughened.
“We are good people.”
Of course, they were.
It just didn’t matter to the Ascended. They needed that small bundle held in the mother’s arms to feed upon.
“Please.” Mrs. Tulis cried openly, her cheeks streaked with tears. “We beg of you to at least try. We know the gods are merciful. We have prayed to Aios and Nyktos every morning and every night for this gift. All we ask is that—”
“What you ask cannot be granted.
Tobias is your third son, and this is the natural order of things,” the Duchess cut in, drawing a broken sob from the mother that cut up my chest. “I know it’s hard, and it hurts now, but your son is a gift to the gods, not a gift from them. That is why we would never ask that of them.”
There was nothing natural about this, and as I glanced over the crowd, I saw that I wasn’t the only one thinking that. Many in the audience stood in shock, unable to believe the Tulises would dare to make such a request. But others watched the horror unfold, their faces full of sympathy and barely leashed anger as they stared up at the dais—at the Ascended and the Maiden. My hand clenched into a fist as I pushed off the pillar. Vikter stepped in closer to her, likely sensing the brimming anger.
And she—the Maiden—looked uncomfortable.
Her fingers were twisting incessantly, and her chest moved rapidly. She appeared as if she were on the verge of running away…
Or stepping forward.
“Please. I beg of you. I beg,”
Mr. Tulis pleaded, dropping to his knees.
This was…gods, this was one of the worst things I’d ever witnessed, and I’d seen some shit.
Done some of it. But seeing a father and mother beg for the chance to keep their child was something else entirely.
Turning from the nightmare, I
slipped through the crowd in the alcove and made my way toward the exit. I had to because I was on the verge of doing something extremely irresponsible and reckless.
Like slaughtering the Ascended right then and there.
But there was something I could do. Purpose filled me as I left the Great Hall. Something that had nothing to do with my brother. I could make sure the Tulis family remained whole and together and that Tobias didn’t become yet another victim of the Ascended.
THE MAIDEN UNVEILED
After showing me my new living quarters in the servants’ wing of the castle, a floor below the Maiden’s, Commander Jansen and I crossed the grand foyer. According to him, I still had a room at the dormitory, but the Maiden’s personal guards tended to stay in the castle. That was fine by me.
“Just so you know,” Jansen said, his voice low, “the Duke agreed to make you one of the Maiden’s guards, but he was still hesitant. He will have others watching you.”
I nodded as we passed the limestone statues of the goddess Penellaphe and the god Rhain. I wasn’t surprised to hear that, nor did it do anything to hinder the surge of satisfaction at finally getting what I wanted. Or at least being on the path to doing so. “I imagine Smyth will be one of those obsessively tracking my movements.”
“You would be correct.”
I was quiet as we walked through the archway, where servants dressed in maroon gowns and tunics with white caps hung an ivy garland. A dark-haired woman stopped, her hands tangled in greenery as she caught my gaze and smiled, leaving me to wonder as we walked on if I knew her—if she was one of those nameless, faceless people I’d spent time with.
I pushed that aside. “He’s becoming a problem.”
“I know.”
I glanced at Jansen as more castle staff hurried by on all sides, carrying baskets of fresh linen and dirty glassware. “He will likely need to be dealt with at some point.”
“Figured,” the Commander answered, not bothering to argue as he had the night at the Red Pearl. He knew Smyth wasn’t a good man.
The banquet hall was less busy. Only an older woman with gray hair curling around the edges of her cap arranged night-blooming roses in a golden vase upon the long table. “Did you check on what I asked?”
He nodded. “We’ll get them out before the Rite,” Jansen assured me. “Move them to New Haven. They can decide what they want to do from there.”
“Thank you.” I allowed myself to feel a bit of relief at knowing that what was left of the Tulis family would remain together.
“No need to thank me,” he replied gruffly, dragging his hand over his chin.
He was wrong. Setting up the Tulises’ escape from the city came with great risk, but I got why he didn’t want anyone’s gratitude for doing what felt like the barest expression of common decency.
“Ready?” Jansen asked as we came upon one of the many meeting spaces on the main floor.
“Been ready, my friend.”
A quick grin appeared, something rare from the changeling, then he opened the door. Having never been in this space before, I quickly glanced over the marble walls, bare except for the black chair rails and the Royal Crest painted in white and gold behind where the Duke sat at a slick, shiny black desk. The Duchess sat in a cream chair near him, and before them were three rows of limestone benches.