Blood of the Underworld(41)

A distant thunder turned her eyes west. She saw hints of a fire, and a lot of smoke. Curiosity tugged at her to go, but she refused. No matter what, she would not have Daverik wander by unnoticed, left to return to the temple thinking that she had been the one who was a coward. Wherever the fire was, she could tell it was nowhere near Alyssa’s mansion, and that was enough to keep her there.

When he finally did show, she nearly missed him. Instead of priestly garb, he wore plain clothes, dull brown pants and a gray shirt. He carried no torch, the moonlight sufficient for him. When once his hair had fallen past his shoulders, now it was gone completely, his head smoothly shaved. Time had wore on his features, hardened them, but when she cast a second glance at him while he passed beneath her, she saw the cheeks she’d kissed, the large lips that had kissed her in return.

A test, she realized. Nothing about him revealed himself as a priest. Only someone familiar with him would know him for who and what he was. That she had passed...should she be pleased, or disappointed?

“Daverik,” she called out. As he turned, she slid down the wall, silently landing in a crouch. Scanning the rooftops, she saw no sign of the other Faceless. Good. Her attention turned to her former lover, who smiled at her and opened his arms.

“Katherine,” he said, and the sound of his voice was the key to a vault of a hundred memories. “My god, Katherine, is it really you?”

She stood to her full height, pulling her shoulders back and turning her head to the side. Though the wrappings were originally meant to hide her beauty, they also revealed every curve of her body. Let him see the woman she had become. Let him know what the priesthood had denied him for ten long years.

“Not Katherine,” she said. “They took that name from me when they covered my face, lashing it out of my soul with their whips and barbs. I am Zusa now.”

A soft smile spread across his pale face. The moonlight added a blue tint to his green eyes. That she noticed at all annoyed her.

“In all my memories, you will always be Katherine,” he said. “But if I must, I will call you Zusa.” He laughed, then shook his head in disbelief. “I had heard one of the Faceless had revolted, and turned away from the order. I had hoped it might be you. You were never one for rules or limitations.”

“Neither were you, or did the priesthood taint you, convince you that every time we fucked it was my fault?”

That smile of his faded. He took a step toward her, and she recoiled away.

“They tried,” he said softly. “They said you seduced me, that your beauty was unveiled sin. At times, I almost agreed. You are beautiful, Zusa, perhaps without equal. But what we did...what we had...I would never diminish it in such a way.”

Such charming, honest words. Daverik had always known what to say to her, and she felt her old wounds bleeding anew. They’d been in each other’s arms when the priests had discovered them. They’d needed no trial, no council, to confirm the obvious. While she watched, they’d lashed Daverik before the altar, let his blood bleed across the ancient stone. As for her, the order of the Faceless awaited. They’d stripped her naked, and while Daverik watched, bound only her mouth and eyes with the wrappings that would become her ceremonial dress.

And when they carried her away, he’d said only two words, whose meaning she had always feared, and never fully understood.

Forgive me.

“Why are you here?” she asked, forcing a cold edge into her voice. Daverik was just a phantom from her past, a boyhood love. They’d both been so young, so foolish and naive. “I thought you’d been banished to Mordeina.”

“I was,” Daverik said, glancing about. When he saw that they were still alone, he walked over to the wall and leaned his back against it, crossing his arms. “But it was only for ten years, and now my time has come to an end. They gave me one last task as penance, a way to redeem my insult to our god.”

“Your god,” Zusa corrected. “I have no love for Karak.”

This clearly pained Daverik, but he continued without remarking on it.

“The betrayal of the Faceless Women has weighed on the priests in Mordeina. Though Pelorak initially refused, he finally accepted my return here, along with the reopening of the order. I am their teacher, their master.”

“Why you?”

“Because they felt I would best understand their weaknesses, having fallen for them myself.”

Zusa shook her head, and to show her opinion on the matter, she spat at his feet. His explanation sounded hollow, the reasoning unlike what she knew of the priesthood. He’d be forever branded as a man weak enough to give in to his passions. Why would they put women also believed to be weak and willing into his care?