Page 106 of The Half King
“He’s not going to die,” Cerise insisted. “But even if he did, I can’t live with you at your estate. I’m a second-born. I’d have to go back to the temple and to the Reverend—”
“Damn the temple,” Nina snapped. “And damn the Reverend Mother! I’m not giving you back to her if there’s no one controlling the priests.” She seemed to catch herself and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Someone within the Order could very well end up on the throne. Have you thought about that? About what that would mean for a girl like you?”
“Of course I have.” She’d thought of little else. The idea of a priest as king—free to use the full force of the Order to persecute anomalies like her to the edge of the realm—robbed her of sleep some nights. “But what I haven’t thought about is failure, because it’s not an option.”
Nina stood from her chair and offered a dry towel. “You’re right. There’s no reason to panic. Yet.”
Yet?
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Nina went on. “You rinse off quickly, and I’ll lay out your gown for the ceremony. When you go downstairs, I’ll stay here and watch Blue so you can focus on what’s important.” She drew a breath as if to say something more, but she released it and strode into the bedchamber.
Cerise had a good idea of what her sister had left unsaid, because she was thinking it, too. If the ceremony worked, all of their worries would be for nothing. Kian would remain on the throne with the priests bound to him. The threat would end, for her and for everyone else.
She had to break the curse: it was as simple as that.
And as difficult.
29
The Petros Blade had never felt heavier than when Cerise carried it down the stairs and into the foyer, where hundreds of palace workers had gathered outside the corridor that led to the sanctuary. They waited in silence to learn if the king’s emissary could perform one last miracle and save them from a deadly curse and the jaws of war. She could swear the slim blade doubled in weight beneath the pressure of all those wide, hopeful gazes.
As the crowd parted and she glided slowly among them, all heads lowered in respect. An occasional hand reached out to touch her skirts. She hurried her pace to discourage the contact. Now more than ever, it was dangerous for anyone to treat her differently. She noticed Lady Delora Champlain standing alone in a quiet corner. Delora wrung her hands but gave Cerise a nod of encouragement.
As she crossed the open-air corridor, the arched sanctuary doorway came into view, and below it, Father Padron stood tall in his gilded robes, both hands folded in front of him. The laws of the realm forbade laymen from entering the sanctuary without permission, so on this side of the threshold stood the king, Daerick, and General Petros. All three of them were the picture of decorum in their uniform jackets and sashes, not a wrinkle or a hem out of place. But none of them could hide their pulsing throats and shifting Adam’s apples. And one man was absent—Cole Solon.
In accordance with tradition, Cerise curtsied first to Father Padron and then to the king. Kian gave her a small smile of encouragement as she lowered before him, but the tiny beads of sweat along his upper lip betrayed his anxiety.
She felt it, too.
She stood straight and addressed Father Padron, loud enough for all to hear. “Your Grace, Holiest among Shiera’s Order, and Divine Protector of her servants, I ask that you grant these laymen entry into our sanctum, so they may humble themselves before Shiera and atone for the sins of their ancestors.”
“I invite them to enter,” Father Padron announced, and without further ado, he turned to lead the way as Cerise took her place by his side.
“Do you know where Cole is?” she whispered to him.
Instead of speaking to her, Father Padron did something she hadn’t known was possible. He used magic to reply. She flinched as she felt him broach her mind with his voice.
Probably holding back for a grand entrance, he said.Cole believes mortal eyes only exist to gaze upon his face.
Cerise looked at Father Padron, but he gazed straight ahead and ignored her startled reaction. Why had he chosen that precise moment to speak to her through magic when he had never done it before? Did he mean to unsettle her? Was it some kind of a test? Or a demonstration of his power, a reminder that he was still in control, despite the fact that she held the Petros Blade? She could only guess. But whatever his motives, he had taught her a valuable lesson. Now that she had experienced the magic, she sensed that all she had to do was think about him and respond. The act was so simple that she could have easily answered him with her mind, though she didn’t, of course.
“Should we wait for him?” she asked.
“With less than an hour until sunset?” he whispered aloud. “I think not.”
Father Padron confounded her, but on this point, he was right. The strips of light peeking from the curtained windows glowed orange with approaching dusk. It was safer to begin the ceremony and save Cole for last.
Daerick’s life depended on it.
“I sent Father Bishop to retrieve him,” Father Padron added. “By force, if necessary.”
They entered the prayer room, where every priest in residence had assembled for the ritual. The men formed two groups with a wide aisle between them, each priest standing in front of a thin floor cushion. In unison, they knelt upon their cushions and then used their energy to create a hundred tiny flames that floated high above their heads. The light cast a glow upon the animated ceiling murals that depicted the Great Betrayal—the reason that had brought them all there.
From this point on, Cerise would have to trust her instincts.
She strode down the aisle in brisk steps to give the illusion of confidence. When she reached the burning altar, she rested the Petros Blade on the ledge, far from the sacrificial bowl and the flame below it. No one would thank her if the blade was scorching hot when she used it to prick their skin. She indicated for Kian to join her on the left while Daerick and General Petros stood to her right. Father Padron remained in the aisle between his priests, but he gave her a nod as if to say the rest was in her hands.
She began with a prayer, followed by a brief history of creation—the temple-approved version with no mention of Shiera’s lover or their mortal descendants. She spoke slowly to give Cole Solon a chance to join them, but by the time she reached the most relevant part of the story—the role each dynasty had played in the Great Betrayal—he was nowhere to be seen.
