by Sarah Hawke
“With all due respect, Lady Inquisitrix,” the Keeper said, “the Lord Vigilant said—”
“I know what he said—but more importantly, I know what he meant,” Jessara Kraythe replied tartly, a wide smile tugging at her ruby lips. “In this time of darkness, we Tel Bator must learn to rely upon one another. We are the servants of the gods, one and all, and we must draw strength from our faith in each other as well as the Triumvirate.”
The Keeper practically wilted in her presence. He was clearly afraid of her.
Just not nearly as afraid as Rohen.
“I will chaperone our Templar guest, don’t worry,” Jessara said, her smile growing even wider. “Sir Velis, was it?”
Rohen tried to swallow but nearly choked. She knew exactly who he was, of course—she knew him better than anyone, probably including himself. That was the whole fucking problem.
“Y-yes,” he managed. “I—”
“Then come with me,” Jessara said, her eyes twinkling in amusement at his discomfort. “The Spire is a chaotic place right now, but I will take you to see the Lord Vigilant. I’ve no doubt he’s eager to hear another report from the north.”
She beckoned him with a crook of her finger, then turned and began sauntering back toward the stairs. Rohen followed in her wake as if compelled by magic, his eyes reflexively lowering to study the annoyingly alluring figure he thought he had left buried deep in his past. Like all the Sanctori, Jessara had dyed her hair white in honor of the Moonmaiden, and her thick black eyeliner made her amber irises all the more striking. Her sleeveless, skin-tight tunic cradled her taut body like a velvet glove, as did her matching red, elbow-length sleeves and thigh-high leggings. Both of her hands were encased in golden gauntlets that transformed her fingers into claws, and her five-inch heels made her gait all the more imperious. Rohen had spent far too many nights in Griffonwing being terrified of—and titillated by—the daughter of the man he considered his mentor.
And now, the daughter of the man who betrayed all of Darenthi to the Chol.
“Do try and keep up, Templar,” Jessara smirked as she started up the stairs in front of him, knowing full well how much he had always been driven mad by the slice of bare upper thigh her outfit left exposed. And from this angle, he almost couldn’t avoid seeing her scarlet panties when she walked…
Rohen forced himself to look down at the marble steps and take a deep breath. He hadn’t expected her to be here, obviously, but as long as he kept his cool, this was still the perfect opportunity to learn more about what was really going on here. Jessara may have been a cold-hearted, domineering cunt that made the rumors of the dark elven Spider Queen seem tame by comparison, but she was also a devout Sanctori Inquisitrix. Perhaps she didn’t know what her father had done—perhaps he had spun a web of lies around her that Rohen could unravel.
Or perhaps she was fully committed to this conspiracy. In all honesty, the world had been turned upside down so quickly that Rohen couldn’t even begin to guess.
Jessara ascended three flights of stairs before she pushed open a door and guided Rohen into a long, labyrinthine series of corridors that held the personal chambers of the highest-ranking Keepers in the Galespire. A few of them were milling about the halls speaking in hushed whispers, but they immediately retreated when they saw Jessara—an impulse Rohen understood all too well.
Evidently, she had been given her own quarters here, at least for the time being, and she pointed a clawed fingertip into a room and waited for Rohen to enter. He whispered a silent prayer to the Guardian as he slipped through the door, knowing full well how difficult it would be to keep secrets from her. The chamber was remarkably cozy, which immediately made him think that she must not have been here for long. The Jessara he knew would have stocked the lone bookshelf with Tel Bator literature and replaced the pastoral paintings with terrifying religious iconography in a heartbeat.
“You’re supposed to be dead!” Jessara declared as she swung the door shut behind them.
Rohen turned and stared right at her, his heart freezing in his chest. Her expression had shifted from playful to furious in the span of an instant, and from the way her claws twitched at her sides, she almost seemed like she was on the verge of attacking him. Had she actually dragged him in here just to—
Jessara lunged forward and kissed him. Her tongue speared though his lips as she clutched his head in her golden claws, and before he even knew what was happening, she had him pressed up against the opposite wall. He kissed her back, half in relief and half in self-defense, as she devoured him like a favorite food.
“Maiden’s mercy, I feared the worst!” she gasped when she finally pulled away. Her golden claws kept his head pinned in place even as she smiled up at him. “Father thought you were killed along with King Thedric!”
Rohen swallowed heavily and forced a tight grin. “I, uh…I got lucky.”
“There’s no such thing as luck,” she scolded playfully. “I always told Father that the gods were on your side. The Guardian must have great plans for you.”
Before he could respond, Jessara kissed him again. He was prepared for her this time, however, and he eventually took her wrists and gently pushed her away.
“It’s good to see you, too, Jess,” he lied. “But everything that’s happened…we have a lot to talk about.”
Her eyes twinkled, and her smile turned impish. “We’ve never been that great at conversation,” she purred. “Maybe we should fight for a while first.”
Rohen grunted softly but continued pushing her hands back down to her sides. “Torisval is in flames,” he said. “I need to speak with the Lord Protector as soon as possible.”
Jessara’s smile slowly faded. “Father left for Griffonwing this morning. He means to rally the Templar.”
“That’s good, but the situation is even worse than he realizes,” Rohen said. “Rimewreath is gone, Jess. The Chol took it two nights ago.”
“What?” she gasped, recoiling in horror.
“The Pact Army was annihilated, and General Galavir is dead. The horde is much, much larger than anyone anticipated.”
Her face went as white as the snow outside. “How do you know this?”
“Because I went there after Whitefeather Hold,” Rohen said, still wondering how he could avoid mentioning Delaryn or Sehris or anything about the impossible shit he had witnessed at the fortress. “I saw the battle firsthand, and I barely made it out alive. Fort Sundermount has fallen, too—there’s no one left to stop the horde from pouring south.”
Jessara glanced away and stared at nothing, her head slowly shaking. “That’s…that’s not possible. Galavir insisted he could contain the horde at Rimewreath for the rest of the winter!”
Rohen studied her carefully. She seemed genuinely upset, which made him feel slightly better about her potential role in all this. But that still didn’t tell him what she knew about the attack on Whitefeather Hold, and he had to figure out a way to ask without revealing anything important…
“Galavir seemed as surprised as anyone by the horde’s overwhelming numbers,” Rohen said after a moment. “Honestly, nothing about the past few days has made any sense. I still don’t understand why a group of Chol broke off and attacked Whitefeather—or how they got inside the damn keep.”
Jessara’s eyes snapped back to his. “Isn’t it obvious? They were there for that Whitefeather cunt Thedric foolishly made his queen! Father warned him about her…gods, everyone in the Tel Bator warned him about her! Stubbornness and misguided mercy run thick in Ashellion blood…or did, anyway. Darenthi will be far better off without them in the long run.”
Rohen tried to keep his expression neutral even as a knot twisted in the pit of his stomach. “I doubt that many Chol would come after one person.”
“She was the daughter of the Winter Witch,” Jessara reminded him. “I know how much you fancied her, Guardian guide your soul, but don’t be a fool. King Thedric never should have taken her as his bride. He should have c
ast her onto the pyre like her mother!”
Rohen was thankful she scoffed and turned away, because he knew he didn’t keep his true feelings hidden this time. Jessara had never liked Delaryn; in fact, she had spent a great deal of time ridiculing him for following the Usurper’s daughter north during the war.
I need to be careful here—very careful—but I also need to know if she is complicit.
“There are a lot of things I can’t explain about that night,” Rohen whispered. “When I escaped into the forest and headed west, I stumbled across bodies on the road—bodies of newly Branded sorcerers. I have no idea who in the bloody void they were or what they were doing out there, but the Chol could have been following them.”
“You found what?” Jessara demanded.
“I know, it doesn’t make any sense. Sehris was supposed to be the only sorceress in the north. I have no idea what to make of it.”
A wave of confusion rippled across Jessara’s face. As a Sanctori Inquisitrix, she was trained to spot lies like a Templar was trained to kill Chol, but she had never been particularly good at telling them. She seemed genuinely surprised…and that made Rohen feel a lot better.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured.
“Like I said, a lot of strange things happened that night,” Rohen said. “And I fear there may be a lot more going on here than anyone realizes.”
Her expression abruptly hardened. “For all we know, they were traitors fleeing to Nelu’Thalas, but thankfully that won’t be a problem much longer.”
Rohen frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The Keepers will begin forging a new army of Faceless soon,” she told him. “I had hoped they would have more time before the Chol seriously threatened the north, but I suppose they’ll just have to accelerate the process even further.”
He pushed his tongue hard into the back of his teeth. So they haven’t started the Purges just yet. Thank the Guardian…
“I thought the Keepers weren’t allowed to create more Faceless,” he said.
Jessara smiled, and his happiness at her presumed innocence evaporated when he saw the casual cruelty on her lips. “The Lord Vigilant has finally recognized the folly of the Sevenfold Accord,” she told him. “The Tel Bator never should have allowed the White Throne to disarm us so utterly. Countless sorcerers have found absolution inside the shell of a Faceless over the generations, and their sacrifices have shielded Darenthi from its enemies.”
“Watching innocent sorcerers get Purged is also what drove the Seven into the arms of the Crell Sovereigns in the first place!”
Her head turned over so slightly, and he immediately regretted not keeping his mouth shut. “There’s no such thing as an innocent sorcerer,” Jess told him. “They must earn absolution in the eyes of the gods…I would think that you of all people would appreciate the chance at redemption.”
“I do,” Rohen insisted. “I just…well, I’m surprised the Lord Vigilant changed his mind so quickly, is all.”
“Mm,” she murmured, her amber eyes narrowing. “The Templar have suffered more than anyone from the Accord. Without the Faceless, the entire order was nearly wiped out in the last Culling. My father petitioned the rest of the Tel Bator for years, but they refused to listen. Unfortunately, the faithful can be as stubborn and shortsighted as the tharns at times.”
Thousands of Templar have died in Darenthi’s defense over the centuries, the Lord Protector had told Rohen back in Whitefeather Hold. Yet so many tharns, generals, and even Tel Bator priests act like we don’t exist until the Chol crawl out of the mountains every few decades. I would rather be haunted by the faces of the dead than forget the sacrifices they made on behalf of the living.
Rohen had always known that Lord Kraythe resented the politics of the court and within the Tel Bator, but apparently he had grievously underestimated the extent of his mentor’s rage. Was that what all of this was really about?
“Speaking of corruption,” Jess said after a moment, “what happened to that dark elf friend of yours? She and her Keeper were supposed to be at Rimewreath, were they not?”
Rohen’s cheek twitched at the memory of Zin’s lifeless body, and it took all his willpower to stay focused. “They survived…barely.”
“Then where are they? Why didn’t they return to the Galespire with you?”
“They were badly injured—they’re recovering in Tor’s Crossing for a few days. I went ahead to make sure that the Lord Vigilant knew what was going on.”
Her eyes bored right into his for a dozen suffocating seconds. Rohen prayed that a little tactical honesty sprinkled over a bed of lies would assuage her suspicions. Whatever else happened here, he couldn’t afford to let her learn the truth about Delaryn. Jess would tell the Lord Vigilant, and he would instantly order every Keeper in the Galespire hunt down the daughter of the Winter Witch.
“Well, at least they’re alive,” Jess said, the tension in her voice and eyes completely draining away. “I always rather liked that elf, you know. So eager and obedient. She knew her place and never talked back.”
“Sehris is special,” Rohen managed. “Her magic is the only reason any of us escaped.”
“She has worked hard to redeem herself despite her corruption,” Jess said, her grin turning coquettish as she reached up and dragged her claws over the tip of his pointed ear. “Almost as hard as you.”
Rohen smiled back at her. “I just wish I could speak with the Lord Protector. He needs to—”
“I’ll get him a message, don’t worry,” she soothed, lifting her other hand and cradling both sides of his head. “I can arrange for you to take a griffon in the morning. Father will want you back with the rest of the Templar as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure he will,” Rohen murmured, wondering what in the bloody void he was going to do now. He obviously couldn’t afford to go to Griffonwing, not with Delaryn and Sehris waiting for him. Maybe they had been right that coming here was a mistake. He hadn’t really gotten the answers he had wanted—whatever those might have been—and it wasn’t as if he could single-handedly convince the Lord Vigilant to halt his plans to Purge more sorcerers.
Still, Jess hadn’t known anything about the Branded sorcerers outside of Whitefeather Hold, so the Lord Vigilant might not have, either. Perhaps it would be enough to trigger an investigation…and perhaps an investigation would be enough to expose what had really happened. Rohen almost wished he had taken the fake wraithblade dagger with him as evidence…
This is all assuming that the rest of the Tel Bator aren’t involved in this somehow. Like Delaryn said, the Lord Vigilant and the Lady Seeker had no love for Thedric or the tharns. For all I know, the Lord Vigilant is the one who gave Kraythe that damn dagger…
“In the meantime, you and I have a lot of catching up to do,” Jess said, stretching up on the tips of her toes until their lips nearly touched. “I just need to let the Lord Vigilant know that I’ll be busy taking confessions all night.”
Rohen forced a chuckle as he clutched her slender wrists and held her at bay. “I don’t want to interrupt your duties.”
“I am an Inquisitrix—my duty is to root out and cleanse corruption.” Jess nibbled at her lip as she dragged her claw-tipped finger over the tip of his pointed ear again. “Pale-bloods are dangerous by nature. I can only imagine how much you’ve sinned since we last saw each other.”
He chuckled nervously as he tried to figure out his options. Pushing her away would only draw her ire, and if she grew suspicious enough, she might start asking more pointed questions and ruin everything…
Jessara pulled him in for another kiss. As their mouths collided, he didn’t hesitate to start devouring her. Rohen could taste the raw, carnal hunger on her lips and tongue, and he knew that if he couldn’t figure out a way to escape, she would absolutely keep him here all night—probably with chains and manacles, if history was any guide. Two years ago, the prospect would have excited him. Gods, even a few months ago, he had still enjo
yed their frantic, frenzied liaisons.
But everything was different now. Delaryn was free and counting on him, and he couldn’t afford to get trapped in here with the daughter of the man who was responsible for unleashing the Culling on Darenthi…
“Ooh,” Jess cooed when she finally pulled back, her eyelids fluttering in delight. “It really has been too long, hasn’t it?”
“Definitely,” Rohen said, still trying to conjure up some reason to run away…
“Who would have ever thought a pale-blood would look so good in this armor?” she purred as her hands slowly lowered from his cheeks and feathered their way down to the sides of his brigandine. “Or that he would look even better without it?”
After expertly unfastening the straps on the sides of his reinforced leather coat, Jess helped him lift it up and over his head. It fell to the carpeted floor with a dull thump. Rohen knew he was quickly running out of chances to stop her, and he couldn’t—
Oh, gods!
His mind reeled when she pressed her knee right up against the growing bulge in his trousers, and again when she slipped a hand beneath his undershirt and pressed her cold claws against his stomach.
“I only need to speak with the Lord Vigilant for a minute,” Jess said, pushing her knee into his groin even harder. “Then I’ll be right back.”
This is it. This is my only chance to get out of here!
Rohen smiled as sincerely as he could. “The gods ask us to be patient. I can wait.”
Jess leaned away from him a few inches and smiled back. “I can’t.”
Snickering playfully, she sank down and squatted atop her high heels. Rohen clenched his teeth in fearful anticipation when she opened his trousers and freed his aching manhood. Her eyes blazed with barely contained lust as he swelled to his full length right in front of her waiting lips.
“I almost forgot just how much the gods favored you,” Jess said, her breath warm and heavy on his flesh as she gently curled her thumb and right index finger around the shaft. He was so swollen that her fingertips barely touched despite the golden claws extending them by half an inch. “How much corruption are you holding inside for me, hmm?”