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“Oh, I’m not that harsh. I’ll let you have a bed.” Was that a smirk?

“I need to make sure the girl doesn’t run.”

“She said she wouldn’t.”

“She lies.” Constantly. Eavus winced again as he tried to pull the tunic over his head. Viduus’ whores. Where was the armhole? “You can’t trust her for a moment.”

“I’m sure she thinks the same of you.”

Eavus’ head whipped towards him, which was a mistake. The burn of vomit rose to the back of his tongue, and Eavus gave up on the tunic. Maetis put his hands up in surrender.

“My apologies. I only meant, you’re holding her captive, no?”

“She’s my prisoner.”

“So why should she trust you?” He shrugged. “Aleteria isn’t known for treating their prisoners with kindness.”

“I’m not Aleteria,” Eavus growled.

“My apologies.” Maetis approached again, that same sheep-like hesitation. “I thought every soldier spoke with the emperor’s voice.”

Eavus’ brow furrowed deeper. Yes, of course. That’s what they said, what soldiers told the people they conquered, when they killed their fighters, enslaved them, burned their towns and sacked their fields. Brothers in arms took it the extra distance, he knew: raping, looting, torturing for sport. Centurions turned a blind eye, knowing that spoils kept happy soldiers, but Eavus had never lived his life that way. He was a soldier, yes. He was a slave. Somehow, that meant the only thing he had in his life was his word. So to be so cavalier with breaking it, the way Revni was…

“She has no honor,” he told the monk. “She’s a savage.”

“And yet she is the one who prayed before her meal.” Maetis nodded at Eavus’ surprise. He kissed two fingers lightly and touched his chest, the way Revni had done before she launched herself at the food, then continued helping Eavus put on his tunic. “Yesena, their goddess of the earth, I believe. My brothers who built this place met many Isfolj.”

“I thought your religion believed in a different god.”

“You’re right. But where there’s faith, there’s hope. I hope to save her soul. And yours.”

Eavus scoffed. “Haven’t you heard? I belong to Aleteria.”

“Even your soul?”

Eavus glowered. The words felt like ash on his tongue, but he said them anyway, because he didn’t believe in lies:

“Aleteria takes everything.”

NINE

Come back!

Revni startled awake, a strangle of grief in her throat, the taste of soot in her lungs. A bell stirred another quiet clang and Revni froze, her foggy mind and the hard floor dragging her back to the present. Her mother. She’d been right there. The ache in her cheekbone—from lying down. Not the press of a hug. Her mother’s scent dissipated into fish and stale fires. She flexed, but there was a tug at her wrists. Right. She was bound.

She was in a smokehouse, tied to the door. Sort of. The monk had offered them a hut with cots, but Eavus had rejected it, liking this space with metal rings bored into the walls better. They were intended for drying meats. Revni had to begrudgingly admit that it was clever, to loop and tie her arms and legs through the rings, but any admiration had blackened when he strung the rope through the highest ring, then tied on a bronze cup, links of chain, a cow bell—items he’d gotten from the monk, who didn’t look pleased but handed them over—and secured one end of the rope to her waist and the other end to the door on the far side.

Revni hadn’t intended to still be here. When they’d first come to the monastery, the salt smell of the sea caused an ache in her heart. She’d had a dull headache since this all started—likely from the punch Eavus had given her—and she wasn’t so stubborn not to recognize that whatever escape she had planned would go better with food in her belly and some decent rest. As soon as Eavus fell asleep, however, she’d take what she could and run.

But then Eavus had turned her into a pulley: every time she moved more than a few inches, the metals clanged against each other. She couldn’t twist to get the knots at her back without sounding an alarm. And he’d dragged one of those cots inside—only one, for himself—and blocked the door with his own body, so even if she somehow managed to move quietly, she’d have to crawl over him to escape.

Something was different now, though. The air was so thick with sleeping she could barely breathe. Revni slowly curled herself to seated, her eyesight sharpening. That was it. She could see. Pale morning limned the doorway, Eavus’ sleeping form a thick shadow. But as she shifted her weight again, the bell above her kissing another quiet ting, she realized⁠—

He hadn’t woken at the sound.

Revni’s heart raced as she got to work. He’d switched out the binds at her blistered wrists with soft cloth, which turned out to be an even greater kindness than he’d intended. The knots unfolded quickly with her teeth. The rope at her ankles would be more difficult. Her fingernails were cut short, but she began picking at the rough fibers, a new beat thrumming inside her.

She knew where she had gone wrong before—too rash, too reckless. That was why the gods had yanked her back into Eavus’ custody. Ragn, Niall, Knuf—they’d been too headstrong, hadn’t listened. She would not make the same mistakes. While Eavus had gotten stitched up—did he not think she knew that he was injured?—she had gone to the bare, ugly temple to scout her prizes. Casing, Eavus had said. She liked this word. She’d see what this temple had to offer. Eavus might think he could trade grave-digging for food wherever they went, but Revni knew she’d need gold, jewels, something valuable. This skinny monk didn’t seem likely able to stop her.