From Blood and Ash(46)

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.

I recognized him.

He’d been at the City Council. He’d had that same expression then, and that thing had happened—the weird flood of sensations I shouldn’t be able to feel.

Or I didn’t know I could.

I checked out the crowd once more, easily picking up on the ones like him. There were at least a dozen that I could see.

My gaze slid back to the blond man as I thought about what I’d felt when I’d been with Loren. What I’d felt from her made sense now, given what had occurred. She had been excited about the possibility of the Dark One being nearby, as disturbing as that was. And she would have reason to fear that I would say something. This man may not show emotion in his features, but if he hadn’t agreed with what was being done to the Tulis family, it would come as no surprise that he’d feel anger now.

Maybe it was all in my head. Perhaps something was happening to my gift. Was it possibly evolving so I could feel other emotions besides pain? I didn’t know, and I needed to find out, but I had to say something now just in case.

I turned my head to the right, toward Vikter. “Do you see him?” I whispered, describing the blond man.

“Yes.” Vikter stepped closer.

“There are others like him.” I faced the audience.

“I see them,” he said. “Be alert, Hawke. There—”

“May be trouble?” Hawke cut him off. “I’ve been tracking the blond for twenty minutes. He’s slowly working his way to the front. Three more have also inched closer.”

My brows rose. He was so very observant.

“Are we safe?” Tawny asked, keeping her attention focused on the crowd.

“Always,” Hawke murmured.

I nodded when her gaze briefly met mine, hoping she was reassured. My hand brushed my thigh. My dagger was sheathed under the white, floor-length tunic. The feel of the bone handle helped to ease whatever panic lingered.

The Duke was still mesmerizing the crowd with tales of gore and horror while I kept my focus on the blond man. He wore a dark cloak over his broad shoulders, and any number of weapons could be hidden underneath.

I knew that from personal experience.

“But we have spoken to the gods on your behalf.” The Duchess’s voice rang out. “We have told them that the people of Solis, especially those who live in Masadonia, are worthy. They haven’t given up on you. We made sure of that.”

Cheers rang out, the mood of the crowd shifting rapidly, but the blond man still showed no reaction.

“And we will honor their faith in the people of Solis by not shielding those you suspect of supporting the Dark One, who seek nothing but destruction and death,” she said. “You will be rewarded greatly in this life and in the one beyond. That, we can promise you.”

There was another round of cheers, and then someone yelled out, “We will honor them during the Rite!”

“We will!” the Duchess cried out, pushing back from the ledge. “What better way to show the gods our gratitude than to celebrate the Rite?”

His and Her Grace stepped back from the balcony then, side by side, almost touching but not quite as they both lifted their hands on opposite sides of the bodies and began to wave—

“Lies!” a voice shouted from the crowd. It was the blond man. “Liars.”

Time seemed to stop. Everyone froze.

“You do nothing to protect us while you hide in your castles, behind your guards! You do nothing but steal children in the name of false gods!” he yelled. “Where are the third and fourth sons and daughters? Where are they really?”

Then there was a sound, a sharp intake of breath that came from everywhere, both inside and outside of me.

The blond man’s cloak parted as he yanked out his hand. There was a shout—a scream of warning—from below. A guard astride a horse turned, but he wasn’t fast enough. The blond man cocked back his arm and—

“Seize him!” shouted Commander Jansen.

The man threw something. It wasn’t a dagger or a rock. It was too oddly shaped for that as it ripped through the air, headed straight toward the Duke of Masadonia. He moved incredibly fast, becoming almost nothing but a blur as Vikter shouldered me back. Hawke’s arm folded around my waist, and he hauled me against him as the object flew past us, smacking into the wall. It thumped off the ground, and my gaze lowered to where it came to rest.

It was…it was a hand.

Vikter knelt, picking it up and rising, the line of his mouth tense. “What in the name of the gods?” he muttered.

But it wasn’t just any hand. It was the clawed, grayish hand of a Craven.

I looked at the blond man. A Royal Guard had him on his knees, arms twisted behind his back. Blood smeared his mouth.

“From blood and ash,” he yelled, even as the guard gripped the back of his head. “We will rise! From blood and ash, we will rise!” Over and over, he screamed the words, as even the guards dragged him through the crowd.

The Duke turned back to the crowd and laughed, the sound cold and dry. “And just like that, the gods have revealed at least one of you, haven’t they?”





Chapter 19





Hawke quickly ushered Tawny and me back inside the castle, while Vikter moved to talk to the Commander.

“Where in the world did that man get a Craven’s hand?” Tawny asked, the skin around her mouth tight as we walked past the Great Hall and under the banners.

“He could’ve been outside the Rise and cut it off one of those who was killed last night,” Hawke answered.

“That’s…” Tawny placed her hand to her chest. “I really have no words for that.”

Neither did I, but the appendage might have been from a cursed who’d turned inside the Rise. I kept that to myself as we passed several servants. “I can’t believe he said what he did about the children—the third and fourth sons and daughters.”

“Neither can I,” Tawny said.

What a terrible thing to claim. Those children, many who were adults by now, were in the Temples, serving the gods. While I didn’t agree with there being no exceptions, insinuating that they were being stolen as if done for nefarious purposes was outrageous. There only needed to be a few words spoken for them to behave like an infection, tainting a person’s mind. I didn’t even want to imagine what the parents of those children were now thinking.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if more people thought along those same lines,” Hawke commented, and both Tawny and my heads swiveled in his direction. He walked beside me, only a step behind. He raised his brows. “None of those children have been seen.”