“For fuck’s sake—”
A hand clipped me over my ear. A small, chubby hand.
Still unbound, I shot to my feet, already turning. Though the chair remained between us, I looped my arms around her neck, pinning her close. Her face pressed to my shoulder, wet and soaking the fabric, her grip around my waist like a vice. We stayed there, clinging to each other, the two sisters in front of us a silent audience. She didn’t smell like Adelaide, like warm milk, lavender, and talc. She smelled of starch, of fire, ofiron. Of the templum. Just as she had the last time I’d embraced her, two weeks ago, when we had only minutes before the monks returned.
“Adelaide.” I pulled myself from her. Her hand remained tight on my wrist, eyes pinned on the sisters to our backs.
I turned.
“Can you leave us?” I whispered, knowing all manner of Dendralis beasts could lurk behind the door.
They shook their heads.
“Then what–”
Adelaide stepped into my line of sight, rounding the chair. Her finger tapped my chest, then moved to the shell of her ear:Listen.I nodded sharply, aware she might have to leave at any moment. She bit her lip, then extended a palm towards the largest sister, whose eyes were fixed on her. With some effort, the sister reluctantly tore her gaze away and settled it on me, giving a knowing nod as she swept a hand up and down the length of her body, then motioned towards her breasts.
What in the fucking pits was happening?
“Adelaide—” I tried, fidgety beneath the swinging axe above our heads. “I know you pledged a vow of silence, but for the love of the beyond, can we not speak?”
She ignored me, frantically motioning between me and the other sister, then mimed the act of removing one’s shirt, unless it was some strange, impromptu signal to cheer, while mouthing something indecipherable.
“This is ridiculous.” I knelt before her, taking her wildly gesticulating hands in mine. “Some small sins are needed to temper the largeness of others. Blood God willing or no, we need clarity when so much is at stake. If we are to leave, to escape here and swim to Ricily, wherever we’re headed, I don’t give a fuck, but we must go and seek out Ashara. Speak, Adelaide. Fuck your vow, and speak!”
I rose, clasping her shoulders.
“I can’t,” she mouthed, without voice, letting me rattle her.
“Speak, damn you.” I almost cried, eyes flicking to the knot at her throat. I had respected her vow the last time, knowing that taking it had likely spared her the fate of bloodstone. But now the time for piety was over.
“I can’t!” A ragged gust of air left her lungs, the words absent. She stepped out of my grasp, aligning hip to hip with the other sisters. After a brief nod and a glance, they brought their fingers to their necks and began untying their knots, letting the scarves drift to the floor.
A splinter of wood. A shard of flint. My own godsdamned hands. Someone would die for this.
Three gnarled—the result of clumsy bladework—scars sliced their way across each of their throats, their edges a light pink, though most of it bleached white by the ticking of time.Adelaide sobbed, the sound all breath, no bite. The others lifted their chins, staring down at me over their noses.
Knees threatening to buckle, I extended a finger to Adelaide’s throat, tracing the line. They’d severed her vocal cords, or removed them entirely.
“They cut it from you?” I asked her, imbuing strength into my words for her sake. Strength I didn’t feel.
Cunts. Cunts.Cunts.She nodded once.
“You take no vow of silence?” I let my eyes drift to the others. “Theycutit from you?” I repeated, breath coming in short, shallow gusts. They nodded.
“Why?Why?” My voice broke on the question. There would never be a good enough excuse.
Her pocked cheeks paled in the sconce light, warm eyes darting to the walls, before lifting to the beams and then the door. She rotated her head, eyes fixed on a vent to our right. She waited, listening for something.
I grabbed her hand. “Blood Demands Blood, Adelaide.” Her eyes met mine, and under the fear, the shame, though it was not hers to bear, burned something I felt in my own, though hotter. After a curt nod, she slipped her hand from mine, pointing to her throat and mimicking the way they sliced it. I tried not to grimace. “Do you have a letter?”
She shook her head.
“Have we a plan?”
A deep breath, her eyes boring holes into mine with greater precision than Falstaff’s rods, and she nodded.
Then, the other sister started to strip. “I, hold on…” I waved my hands, imploring her to stop. “That’s not what I—”
