Page 49
“What did you do?” He pushed her forward, and she stumbled right over the body.
It was the girl, Edik’s twin.
Idonea shuddered. She smelled the daemon scent first. The blood took another second to register. The girl’s throat a wide open gash. Five ragged slashes bloomed across her chest while crimson blood pooled around her head and soaked into the snow.
“It wasn’t me,” she choked out. Her head spun. The girl’s body was mutilated the same way as the boy’s on the airship. “I’m not even bleeding.”
“Then explain this.” Alcaeus jabbed his finger towards her feet.
She stepped gingerly around the body, her knees trembling, her stomach churning. Bile burned in the back of her throat.
A daemon sigil. Burned into the frozen earth, seared with the dark, oily blackness of the Nexis, writhing still at the edges. Her vision blurred. It was the same as the one at Nellith’s house. The same lines. Vinea.
“You recognise it,” he said, his voice unnervingly muted, “don’t you.”
Her mouth tasted like ash. She swallowed, but it did nothing. “You know why this has happened.”
Alcaeus’ eyes narrowed.
Elzhbeta spoke up. “You would accuse your own daughter?”
Idonea turned to her. Elzhbeta stood untouched by the weather. Even the snow seemed careful around her.
The Magistrate stepped forward. “The day after she arrives,” he said flatly, “we have a dead witch.”
Elzhbeta’s dark eyes flicked to the sigil. Idonea wrapped her arms around herself.
“I’d never kill one of my own,” she whispered. The words barely left her throat.
She stepped back, snow crunching beneath her boots. Her skin crawled and the accusation settled in the pit of her stomach. No one answered her.
Elzhbeta’s eyes watched her a moment too long. The Magistrate folded his hands behind his back. Even Lysander avoided her gaze, his jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders locked.
Something cracked in her then, like frost breaking underfoot. She stood alone among people who were practically strangers.
“Let me find it,” she said. “Let me end it.”
Alcaeus let out a heavy breath. “Lysander,” he said, “take her away. Keep her locked away until I summon her.”
“What?” She took another step back. “No.”
The Magistrate gave a nod to Alcaeus and led Elzhbeta away.
Lysander stepped towards her. His eyes didn’t meet hers as he reached for her dagger, and she got it first. Her fingers tightened around the hilt.
“Don’t,” she said, her voice breaking. “You know this isn’t right.”
He said nothing. Only the faint sound of leather and steel as his fingers brushed hers, and then the weight of the dagger left her hand.
Alcaeus held out his hand, palm open like a command. “Give it to me.”
Idonea’s fists clenched. Her whole body trembled. “I’d be careful.”
Alcaeus barely glanced at her. “The dagger, Brother.”
Lysander hesitated, then placed it in her father’s outstretched hand.
Alcaeus turned, and without pause, slammed the blade into the chapel wall. Wood split, metal ground.
