Page 111 of The Half King
“More lands?” she repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. “Are you telling me that you risked execution, you betrayed your king and your realm, and you committed murder formore lands?”
“No, you don’t understand,” he said. “The Mortaras have been dwindling for years. That’s not my fault. The Order is bound to take the throne. It’s only a matter of time, and when that time comes, I would rather be in their good favor than be their target. You know what they’ll do.” He peeked at the dead woman. “You know what they’ve already done. I had a choice to be Padron’s ally or his enemy.”
“And look what that choice got you,” she reminded him. “Your ally doesn’t want you to repent. He doesn’t care about your soul. He only wanted to use you and then send your secrets to the grave.”
“I was wrong, and I’m sorry,” Cole cried. “I’ll pay for my crimes, I swear, but not like this. Please not like this.”
“What about the old emissary?” she asked. “Did you kill her, too?”
“No, I swear,” Cole said. “She poisoned herself.”
Cerise doubted that, now more than ever. Mother Strout had gathered so much information, and it was only by her own guile that she’d been able to hide any of it. Maybe during the course of her investigations, someone had caught her asking the wrong questions. Any number of Father Padron’s men could have poisoned her. Or Father Padron himself. He could have compelled her to drink poison, just like he’d compelled Cerise to drink water when she was sick.
“My lady, please have mercy,” Cole said.
“I will,” she assured him. “Just help me understand something. Why would Father Padron risk committing treason when no one knows for certain what will happen if the last Mortara dies? The priests might be bound to a different king.”
Cole shook his head. “They won’t. I don’t know how or why, but he told me the Order can only be bound to a firstborn Mortara. He said it was part of the curse, and if the priests can’t break it, then they have to stay bound until—”
“Wait,” she interrupted. “The priests have been trying to break the curse?”
“Yes, for decades,” Cole said. “It’s the only other way to free themselves.”
Cerise felt her heart drop into her stomach. If that was true, then she’d had it all wrong. Breaking the curse wouldn’t stop the Order from taking the throne. It would give the priests their freedom even sooner. No matter what she did, the priests would be free. If she failed to break the curse, then Kian’s death would unbind them. If she succeeded, then Kian would lose his power to control the same men who had been plotting to kill him for years. Even if she saved Kian’s life, the priests could take it—easily—and then rule in his stead.
Either way, the Order would win.
But no, she thought. One thing didn’t make sense. If Father Padron had all but won, then why had he looked so shaken after the ceremony? He should be gloating and planning a coup with his men, not hiding in fear.
Cerise shook her head. She was still missing something.
“My lady, please,” Cole said. He must have mistaken her silence for hesitation to release him. “Please have mercy. Will you let me down?”
“Of course I will,” she told him.
She studied the open wounds on his chest. Moving him might send him into shock from the pain. She needed to heal him first, a skill she hadn’t learned. She remembered what Nero taught her, how to imagine what she wanted, and then she held both palms forward and willed Cole’s flesh to mend. The magic in his wounds resisted her; it took two tries to clear the boils. But she soothed his skin and then gradually eased him down from the wall until his bare feet touched the floor. He was so overcome by relief that he didn’t question how she had cast the magic. He wasted no time in wobbling on weak legs toward the corridor. She began to follow him, but then she remembered the pile of objects in the corner.
“You go ahead,” she told him. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Cole didn’t need telling twice. He was already gone.
She rushed to the corner and crouched down to peer through the static shield at the bundle on the other side. The tip of an aged scroll peeked through the folds of fabric, but beyond that, she couldn’t discern what the objects were or why Father Padron might want to guard them. She tried using her energy to disperse the shield, but the protection he had cast was too strong. Glancing over her shoulder, she thought of the gap she had left in the sanctuary wall. The priests would finish their dinner soon, and then Daerick and Nina wouldn’t be able to keep them away for much longer.
She faced the corner for one last attempt. Instead of scattering the energy, she focused on creating an opening large enough to fit her hand inside. It worked. She reached in and grabbed the bundle, pulling it free before the static re-formed. She snuck a glance at the scroll and found it filled with jumbled text in a language she couldn’t read. She would need Daerick to interpret it.
She tucked the scroll deep into her dress pocket and held on to the fabric, just in case it might provide a clue. As she turned to leave, a rumbling noise pulsed through the room, originating from the shield she had just breached.
She had triggered an alarm.
She bolted across the chamber and down the hallway without sparing a second glance at the rest of the bundle in her hand. She didn’t even stop to close the walls behind her as she left the torture chamber and the archive room. Her shoes skidded over the dusty mausoleum floor. She righted herself and barreled down the long, upward-sloping corridor leading to the sanctuary. Ahead of her, Cole noticed her clomping footfalls, and then he glanced over his shoulder at her and hurried his own steps in response.
She nearly burst with relief when she crossed into the prayer room and found it empty. She immediately spun around and used her energy to pull both halves of the wall together. It was then that Cole noticed the anomaly of a young woman wielding magic.
“How…” He trailed off in shock. “I’ve never seen an oracle do that.”
“Forget what you saw.” She glanced around for a place to hide the cloth. If the priests found her with it, there would be no denying that she was the one who had triggered the alarm. “Get as far away from here as you can.”
“I’m grateful to you, my lady.”
