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My pulse thudded as I continued reading. She’d explained almost everything. And she hadn’t used her haughty, queen’s lady tone. At some point since leaving the castle, Madinia had learned how to talk to people—villagers, townsfolk, and city residents alike. Or perhaps she’d always known how and just hadn’t bothered to use that skill until now.
Either way, she presented the truth in compelling, matter-of-fact prose. She pointed to the facts—the gods were not taking our power, but the king was. The corrupt weren’t corrupt at all. We were hybrids, and we wanted nothing more than to live our lives. The king had instilled such terror and loyalty that this would seem impossible. That was no mistake on Sabium’s part.
It will be difficult for some people to live with the fact that they have betrayed their neighbors. Their family members. Their friends. That those people were not rejected by the gods, but were hunted by a tyrannical, power-hungry king.
Denial might seem the easier path, brushing aside these truths as mere fabrication. Yet a moment of reckoning is upon each of us.
Will you rise, defending future generations and guarding the innocent? Or will you allow Sabium’s lies to destroy the little goodness left on this continent?
Choose wisely.
My heart beat with something I hadn’t felt in a while. Hope.
Most people wouldn’t believe. They would see it as rebel propaganda.
My first day in this city—directly after I’d left Lorian and the others and located Vicer’s safe house with Tibris—I’d met Margie in the kitchen of that safe house.
She was the one who’d told me how the artifacts worked, what Regner had done, and how his lies had flourished. When I’d asked her how he’d gotten away with it for so long, her expression had turned bleak.
“How do you control a population? You keep the people poor and uneducated. Tell them the same lie for centuries, and tie that lie to religion. Those people will believe you even when the truth is dancing naked in front of them. Because to believe otherwise would mean their entire world has always been a lie. And that realization is too difficult for most people to take.”
It wasn’t just a case of countering Regner’s lies. We would have to make these people question their religious beliefs. Regner’s tactics were both clever and insidious.
But it was something.
I handed the parchment back to Vicer. He was studying my face, and he nodded. “We keep our expectations low. If this reaches just one person who believes it—and doesn’t turn on their neighbor, or refuses to fight in Regner’s army…”
I blew out a breath. “It’s worth it. At the very least, it’s a distraction for Regner.”
“We have a distribution plan in place,” he said. “They’ll go out to every town and village within the next few days. And they’ll keep spreading the word, even after you’ve left the city.”
“Thank you.”
Someone thumped on the door. Lorian got to his feet and opened it, revealing Marth. Likely, the poor man had been just about to lie down and get some rest.
“What is it?” Lorian asked.
Marth narrowed his eyes at him. “Someone’s here for Prisca.”
For me? No one else knew I was here.
Lorian angled his head. Likely, he was thinking the same. “What do they want?” he demanded.
Good-natured, flirtatious Marth let out a sound that made me freeze. Half growl, half snarl, all warning.
Lorian went still. “Are we going to have a problem?”
“I’m not your messenger.”
Oh, Marth. Gone was the easy humor, the sly grin that was so often a fixture on his face. It had been replaced by pure rage.
“I’ll go down,” I said.
Squeezing between the two fae, I ignored the tension in the air as they stared at each other. I almost kept walking. But Marth was practically radiating frustrated misery. Leaning up on my tiptoes, I pushed his blond hair away from his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Surprised eyes met mine. I smiled at Marth, making a mental note to talk to him. Soon. Behind me, Lorian hissed out a breath.
“Never mind that,” a voice said behind Marth. “I let myself up.”
