Page 69

That silenced him. He stood there, jaw tight, his gaze searching hers.

She took the opportunity and moved without another word, and slipped out of the hall. The hall’s heat gave way to icy wind. Snow dusted her shoulders as she pulled her cloak tight and headed towards the chapel, footfalls muted by packed snow.

Lysander followed her out. The sound of his boots caught up to hers.

Near the chapel’s entrance, a Templar stood guard.

“You cannot enter,” he said.

Idonea’s mouth opened, ready to argue, but then she saw Lysander’s slight shake of the head.

“He is right,” Lysander said. “They are in there for lessons. Lessons not open to you.”

She inhaled sharply, her breath turning to frost. “Then I’ll wait."

Idonea went around to the cemetery, where each headstone leaned under a thin glaze of frost. A new mound caught her eyes near the front, earth still loose beneath its layer of snow. Her chest tightened. A fresh grave.

She stepped closer. The stone was small and simple, the letters sharp and new.

Arina Volkov. Seventeen.

Edik’s sister. She then saw it: the same date carved again and again down the rows. Dozens. All ending on the same night.

A bitter chill crept up her spine. “What happened?”

He glanced between her and the headstones. “It was three years ago.”

“And?”

He hesitated, gaze flicking to the graves, then to her. “I wasn’t here, but they say a Nexis veil tore open.”

“A daemon did this?” She took in the number of dead. Had Alcaeus been in charge then?

His left hand flexed. “You’d have to ask your father. He was the only one there. The rest of us have only been here the past two years.”

Her gaze drifted back over to the headstones. “I’d like a moment.”

Lysander nodded, letting Idonea enter the cemetery alone, after she asked permission from the Guardian. She knelt at the new stone. The lettering hadn't yet weathered. The chisel-marks were still sharp at the edges.

Idonea sucked in a shaky breath. The hollow for Dyota throbbed in her chest. He’d said she'd been taken three years ago. She hated to think of what horrors she was trapped with, or how Alcaeus could let them take her. The lack of her name on a headstone offered little comfort.

Under Lysander’s quiet watch, Idonea moved around the cemetery, clearing away weeds from the headstones. Headstones of witches. Her throat clogged at the age of some of them. She knew there had to be more to the story Lysander told. A dark secret they lied to everyone about, just like they lied about Arina’s death.

Idonea brushed away dirt from her skirt. “Is the lesson done?”

Lysander held the gate open. “An hour ago. But I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Her laugh came sharp, disbelieving. “So, you let me waste time while another girl walks into the daemon’s jaws?”

His silence confirmed it.

Her temper flared white-hot. “Cowards,” she said. “All of you.”

She stormed past him, snow kicking up in her wake.

Behind her, Lysander’s voice carried faintly through the cold. “Idonea—”

A cry tore open the air.