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“No.” She shrugged. “I assume it’s poisonous.”
“Why would the Temple want a poison?” he asked without explaining.
He turned it in my direction, as if expanding the accusation.
The frail white star flower with black stalk and numerous leaves like thorns—beautiful and innocent looking—filled me with fear. I wanted to ask how he had learned it grew in the palace as he had not recognized it in the cave under Tal. If I had not stolen the letter from the old king, would they have found it sooner?
Morovara seemed to consider his question, or how much she would say.
She nodded to herself before striding to the arch open to the sky.
“We care for the dead, draw the Goddess’s attention, and comfort the grieving. Some few come praying we direct the Goddess attention to those who deserve it.” She turned, outlined against the bright sky, power seemed to fill her small frame. “Sometimes we listen.”
I balked at her words. “You kill people?”
“Me personally, no, but it is part of my duties to review each request.”
Dimitri paced, as he so often had while thinking something through. “Every time I think I’m catching up, I learn how little I know of Tal. Dead who walk. Spirits who attack. Assassins in the Temple.” He spread his hands in exasperation. “And if someonethought more people needed to die, would you hand them the tools to do so?”
“I’m not sure what you’re implying.” Morovara’s tone hardened. “It’s a rare and singular decision. Always a last resort.”
“I don’t need to imply. This is what I know: For years priestesses have broken into the Women’s Tower and extorted this flower from the horticulturalist, a flower that can be used to manufacture a poison that kills when consumed—deaths we assumed were caused by an illness. The reason the Talian plague only affects us is that this is the only place the poison has been used on a large scale. There are assassins in the Temple. Your priestesses have been involved in mass murder. For under my city, priestesses grow the flowers and raise the dead. Across the city a bloody skeleton calls for the people to rise up.
“And—this is personal and might not seem like much in relation to the rest but I still need you to hear it—your priestess, who I trusted with the life of my bride and unborn child, betrayed us to my father. The only thing I do not know, is if you personally are involved or have lost the grip on your subjects.”
Silence followed his words.
There were pieces he was missing. Ealhswip and the meeting under the Women’s Tower. The endless ocean of restless Spirits. The plague victims’ bodies brought to the pyre outside the city where a priestess marked in red stole their Spirits. But if the poison had to be ingested, I had not killed the king. I’d robbed him of knowledge, but the death… I could never know for sure. He could have licked his finger after opening it. Cut it on the paper. Perhaps she had put something inside. But it was not one me. It was all onher.
The windblew through the open room, and I could not tell if it was natural. The late-summer sun shone. Below, a distant flutist practiced.
When Morovara finally moved, I expected the old woman to crumble, perhaps fall back into her chair. Instead, she let out a sigh and nodded.
“I’ve kept it hidden longer than I could have hoped for. Perhaps it can finally end. I didn’t know about the poison or plague—if I had I would have spoken up.”
“So speak,” he commanded with the voice of a king.
“There are two temple factions—have possibly been since Herebov conquered Tal. When the last divine ruler died, the Temple accepted your ancestor, but a small group declared only the Goddess stood above them and he had not been blessed. They formed a sect willing to do anything. We have tried to eradicate them for generations but in times of hardship their membership grows.”
She was leaving a lot out, I knew that, but I could imagine it after Eydis bowed before Herebov. She had never desired to rule. Perhaps she did not know if her mother had been murdered. Perhaps she was glad to give up the responsibility, seek her treasures, and never face the Gate she feared.
“And this sect of yours have been poisoning the citizens and conspiring against the Crown without you saying a word?” Dimitri’s voice had cooled, but he was focusing on the wrong things.
Ealhswip was not working with the Temple.
Morovara sighed again. “Someone is always conspiring against the Crown. When there was proof, it was dealt with. We are not all assassins and interrogators—most of our time is spent calming theSpirits. Tal is overflowing. You rightly care for the living, but I feel the dead.”
When hovering between dead and living, so had I. The pressure and darkness drawing them in. “They’re used against their will.” I swallowed, focusing on getting the words past my fear. “There are so many more than I knew. They cannot leave…”
Morovara nodded. “The dead are being used against Tal. If you would give me access to—”
“You still presume to have my trust when you have done nothing to earn it.” Dimitri took back the drawing of the flower. “I expect a list of anyone suspect by morning delivered to Urs von Uster. The Temple is no longer handling this.”
“Every priestess is under the protection of the Temple and innocent until proven otherwise. Many women came here seeking sanctuary. I’m not letting the Roja sink its claws into them.”
“This is an order from your king.”
He gave me one last look before striding out. Hardly a word had been exchanged between us, and those that were had all been in anger, as if we were unable to see past our hurts. After the morning in the basement, I had been glad we had not stopped pushing each other, but now, we seemed to only push each other away.
