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The only type of sorcerers people revile more than the riven are the so-called “scourge sorcerers” who developed their horrific methods several centuries ago. They found a way to demand gifts from the godlen not just through their own living sacrifices but those of family and supposed friends as well, offering up the bodies of the slaughtered.
They thought they could challenge the gods in power. And the All-Giver punished all of us for their psychotic hubris.
The Great God and the lesser divinities ravaged the continent with flames and earthquakes—and then the All-Giver stormed off on us. But only after shrouding our sea in fog and raising the eastern mountains so none of us could attempt to follow.
My soul arrived in this world broken thanks to the aftereffects of that long-distant retribution. I’m a reminder to all of us that when we take on more magic than mortals are meant to handle, it’ll destroy us.
But I’m only a danger to my fellow human beings. Scourge sorcery threatens the gods themselves.
And now some greedy assholes are risking bringing the godlen’s wrath down on the entire continent once more.
Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. I steal from greedy assholes who don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves every week, don’t I?
The pricks dabbling in scourge sorcery think they won’t get caught. That they can escape divine punishment.
And they’re willing to bring the rest of us down with them if they’re wrong.
Another unsettling thought strikes me. “The first prince—seven years ago. The royal family saidhisdeath was an illness. Could it have actually been part of this conspiracy?”
A very good question, Julita says in an approving tone.I’ve wondered as much myself, but we haven’t found any proof one way or the other.
I rub my tired eyes. “‘We’? Do other people know about this?”
Yes! I had friends working with me to expose the sorcerers—fellow students and a professor. That’s where you can help. I must have been getting close to the villains, or they wouldn’t have attacked me. I was supposed to meet with the others tomorrow to share what we’ve learned. You can do that for me.
I frown. “I can… go to the meeting? Where do you meet?”
At the college, of course.
A disbelieving sputter jolts out of me. “I can’t waltz right into the royal college.”
Julita’s voice warms.Oh, I’m sure you could. I saw how skilled you were in that ploy at the bakery. And you appear to be a master at avoiding notice. I can give you everything else you need.
“Somehow I think it’ll be a little more complicated than that. And your friends will know I’m not who they expected to be meeting.”
I can smooth things over with them. We’ll come up with a story just like you did about Master Radir. It’ll be as easy as the way you handled the baker.
I pull up my knees and rest my chin on them, bracing myself amid my spinning thoughts.
The only places I’d want to go intolessthan the Sovereign College are the Temple of the Crown and the royal palace itself. There’ll be more guards around than I normally encounter in a year.
Ivy…Julita pauses and then goes on at a softer cadence.There’s something incredible about the fact that my soul has survived, however that happened, so I can continue to speak out against these sadistic rogues. I’m getting a rare chance to deal with unfinished business.
“Yourunfinished business,” I have to point out. “Not mine.”
I’d imagine it’d affect you too if the scourge sorcerers cause a large enough disaster to bring the gods’ wrath down on us all. You and the people in the outer wards you clearly care about. Would you truly risk all of them just to avoid a scheme that’ll take no more than an hour or two?
Her words bring a lump of guilt into my stomach.
My friends need to know everything I’ve been looking into if they’re going to take on the conspiracy without me, Julita says.I have no idea how much time we have before there’s an even bigger strike against the royal family.
I think of the young prince, only a year past his dedication ceremony, gazing stiffly down from the temple balcony a couple of hours ago. These are the kind of monsters who’d kill children.
And who knows how many others. Would Ewalin and Frida survive another Great Retribution? Would Zuzanna and her son, or the sisters I watched playing in their garden?
All I have to do is play noble for a couple of hours. Walk into the college, chat with a few nobles, walk out again.
Is that so much to ask?
