Page 57 of Hallowed Games
Ice rippled over my skin.
Blood continued to spill over the white stone. If Sion was hungry for it, he didn’t show it. Maybe he’d already gorged himself outside the castle.
He sheathed his sword. “Go on, and try not to offend our Archon for the rest of the day. Once I get my sword clean, I’d rather not bloody it again today.”
My fingers coiled into fists. At all costs, I had to find his weakness. Because if he was going to stand in our way, I needed to know exactly how to take him down.
CHAPTER 26
In the dining hall, torchlight cast a warm glow over Percival and Sazia as they sat across from me. Storm clouds gathered outside, giving the dining hall a somber look.
Hugo and Godric nestled on either side of me, and I filled everyone’s glasses from the bottle of claret on the table. Wine at lunch was usually a bad idea, but I was firmly in my what do we have to lose phase.
As I sipped the wine, my gaze trailed over the empty spaces in the hall, chest tightening. This place had been packed not that long ago. Now, everyone had spread out across the dining hall, and no one spoke. Lydia sat alone. So did most people, apart from our little group. Everyone looked dazed, hollowed out. The wine was flowing liberally as the surviving Penitents tried to dull their sorrows.
Across the table, Sazia shuddered. “Did you see the way the Magister blinded that man? Almost looked like he had fun doing it. Honestly, the people in this kingdom…”
I wanted to tell her he wasn’t really a person at all, that he was a monster. But I choked down the dark secret, just like Maelor had asked.
I let the wine roll over my tongue. “Not that I’m defending the Magister, but the man he blinded was the reason I ended up in that dungeon.”
Percival traced his fingertip around the rim of his glass. “But you’d better believe that if he saw you using magic, he’d do the same to you.”
I swallowed hard. As we sat, the Silent Sisters started to bring food to our tables—quail roasted to a perfect golden-brown. They’d been marinated in wine, rosemary, and cloves.
Even if death hung in the air over Ruefield Castle, my appetite had come roaring back. Maybe because death hung in the air…I remembered Lydia once saying that death had a way of making people hungry and horny at the same time because we clung to life when it was most in danger of disappearing.
My mouth watered. And as if that weren’t enough, the Sisters also brought a vegetable and mutton stew. Steam from the richly scented soup coiled into the air, and my stomach rumbled.
I picked up my spoon, frowning at the food. “Is it just me, or do the meals keep getting more extravagant?”
Hugo slurped his stew. “We skipped breakfast today. Maybe they’re making up for it.”
“But…why?” I asked. “They quite clearly don’t care what happens to us. Didn’t one of you say you had a theory about it?”
Godric ripped a quail’s leg free. “To show off their power. To try to make us feel grateful for their mercy. Maybe? You know what, I don’t really give a toss.”
Percival frowned at me over his wine glass. “I do have a theory. Because yes, they could be keeping us in windowless dungeons with only stale bread and rats to eat. The Magister said we were supposed to appreciate the mercy of the Archon. But what if someone gave him that idea? What if someone manipulated him?”
“He doesn’t seem like the type who’s easily manipulated,” I said.
He shrugged. “The Pater, then. We can all see he’s unhinged.”
Sazia narrowed her eyes. “Tell me, what do you mean? I’m not following.”
“There are rumors,” Percival whispered, “about a resistance within the Luminari at Ruefield Castle. I’ve heard they’re secretly working against both the Pater and the Magister. Maybe the resistance helped us to get more comfortable living conditions.”
The stew was already warming my belly. “I’m still not sure I follow. Why would they care if we had delicious roasted quail when they’re letting us get murdered by wolves?”
He leaned over his stew, and the steam coiled before his face. “Because maybe they’re working on something big. A rebellion against the Order. Maybe it’s not ready yet, and all they can do for us is try to make our lives more comfortable before we die. Before they unleash their big plan. But if you want to know the truth, the rebellion is the entire reason I’m here.”
Hugo blinked. “What do you mean, the reason you’re here?”
Percival slid his gaze to the center of the dining hall, checking to see that no one was near. “I told them I was Serpent-touched. I wanted to come here.”
“Are you out of your mind?” snarled Godric, nearly spilling his wine. “Are you bloody daft? Did that crack to your skull rob you of your senses?”
Percival pointed to the jagged scar at his temple. “In a way, yes. I nearly died after a jousting match, and I was unconscious for four days. When I recovered, I started wondering what the point of it all was. I was risking my life just to show off before a bunch of nobles. I could die at any moment, and for what? For the entertainment of other aristocrats? One day soon, I’d be bleeding out on the list field, having accomplished exactly fuck all. But if I join the resistance? At least when I die, my life will have had a purpose. In theory. If I can find them.”