Nowthis.
Roan’s being trialed by my late pah’s most powerful allies. Tri-beaded males also gifted in the Runi arts.
My blood simmers as I consider how much this group of folk could positively influence the political sway of things, if they only put their minds to it. Instead, they believe the world is theirs by divine right to mold at their will. That the rest of us are livestock—quality marked.
Bleat too loud and you get butchered.
I’ve worked hard to keep The Burn quiet and avoid political tangles since I took Pah’s crown. Wanted to give my folk a chance to heal, grow, and thrive after everything they went through under Ostern’s regimented rule and the bloody usurping that followed. Seems peace is about to bleed dry, because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Roan.
I made a promise to his sister and, on my honor, I will not break it.
“All it left behind was a cloud of silver particles that seemed to … well”—Roan winces, looking abashed—“prowlright out the door.”
“You expect us to believe the Book of Voyd—the ancient artifact we firmly believe was written by Caelis himself—prowled freeof the chamber?” the Grand Chancellor presses, his blunt voice a hammer echoing off the amphitheater’s walls. “A chamberwhich,” he adds pointedly, “is so heavily runed against intruders that all have perished the moment they stepped foot over the threshold. Untilnow.”
Roan’s cheeks redden, while Pyrok groans loud enough that one of the other Runis gives him a side-eye.
I elbow him so hard he grunts.
“I know how it sounds.” Roan straightens his copper-framed spectacles—the perfect match to his floppy locks matted and caked in grime. “I wouldn’t believe it myself had I not seen it with my own eyes. But there I was, standing at the plinth, about to flip the cover after loosening the book’s bind, and”—he flicks his hands, making the chains jingle—“poof. Gone.”
The councilmembers turn their heads and convene while the observers erupt with a swell of furious mutterings.
Roan shifts, and I glimpse his bare feet. Shackles bind his ankles, blood weeping from where they’ve bitten deep.
I clench my fists.
“The idiot’s not kissing enough ass,” Pyrok murmurs, digging into the pocket of his faux Runi robe. He fishes out a copper flask and tosses back a glug. “He should be on hisknees, begging for his life.”
The smell of burnt spirits wafts between us.
“They have no proof he stole the book, and the Tri-Council values knowledge and power above anything else. Roan achieved something remarkable. They want to knowhow.” I glance at the Mindweft sitting at a desk beside the scribe, his unblinking gaze fixed on Roan—pupils dilated, perspiration beading off his brow. “They’re using this trial as a scare tactic.”
I hope.
I notice the beads of sweatalsodripping from Roan’s bruised brow, curls of red hair plastered to his temples. A sign he’s exhausted, struggling to maintain his mental void.
“So long as Roan doesn’t challenge them,” I say beneath my breath, “we should be okay.”
I can break him from a cell. What I can’t do is bring him back from the dead.
There’s not a force or power on our world that can revive a soul from the type of death the Tri-Council dishes out to those who ruffle their pristine robes.
Pyrok grunts, taking another swig as a large shadow passes over the amphitheater.
My gaze spears through the crystal ceiling, half expecting to see a moon plummeting toward us. Instead, a mature Moltenmaw cuts through the patchy clouds, almost skimming close enough to slash one of the heavily runed, white-stone arches straddling the Citadel from all angles. Silencing the Creators for everyone beneath except members of the Tri-Council, their brows adorned with diadems eerily similar to the one Kyzari wears.
The oneElluinused to wear … before childbirth cruelly tore her away, ridding Kyzari of the chance to know her.Loveher.
The thought kneads my heart so hard it aches.
“Silence.” The Grand Chancellor’s booming voice hushes the crowd.
Roan straightens, brows pinched as he looks up at the councilmembers with a hopeful gleam in his bright-green eyes.
“Alchemist. Given your solid mental walls render our Truthtunes useless at picking apart fact from fable, you put us in a difficult position. You want us to believe your absurd story, yet the fact remains that you were found in the chamber after breaking past the chain of runes that have been etched in place for eons, fashioned toprotectthe Book of Voyd.” The Grand Chancellor gestures to the other councilmembers, the wide cuffs of his sleeves dangling. “We unanimously believe you may have used one of your rogue Runi techniques tohidethe book, and that it’s still currently in your possession.”
“That’s a fucking stretch,” Pyrok mutters beneath his breath.
