Page 74 of Hallowed Games

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I stood in the dungeon, nestled between Godric and Percival. As usual, I’d told my allies everything I could over breakfast. But this morning, we’d hardly eaten.

Fear hung in the air, so sharp I almost felt it raking at my skin. Down here in the dungeon, the smell of damp and decay slid off the stones.

We were in a sort of large central hall, with tunnels jutting off like spokes of a wheel. Torches lined the walls, the orange light dancing over dark, sweating rock.

I turned, surveying what was left of the Penitents. Now, less than half remained, all with cowls pulled up as if they hoped the shadows would consume them. I’d been thinking of them so much as my adversaries before, I’d hardly bothered to look at them.

Some of them looked older, their skin lined, faces gaunt. I was frankly surprised they’d made it this far. But a lot of them looked so young, it made my heart twist. A beautiful woman who couldn’t be more than nineteen stood nearby, wide-eyed, arms folded. Her hair was a pale flaxen color, and she had a delicate beauty that men often loved. It hadn’t helped keep her out of here, though.

My gaze landed on the boy who looked about fifteen, and my breath caught. I could read it so easily in his expression—he was terrified, but he was trying to hide it with a resolute expression and a clenched jaw. His lower lip jutted out. With that look on his face, he reminded me of Leo when he was upset.

I let out a long, steady breath.

If I did what Maelor wanted—if I made it out of here alive and let the rest die—what kind of life would that really be? A broken one.

It wasn’t just about my alliance anymore. I wanted all these people out of here. I wanted the chaos that would unfold from cutting off the head of the Order. I wanted to watch the man draw his final breath, blue veins racing under his pale skin. I craved it.

Lydia leaned against the wall, her chin held high. She thought she’d be the chosen one, didn’t she? And why wouldn’t she? She’d always gotten everything she wanted. Except, perhaps, Anselm’s heart. No wonder she lost her mind.

She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, then narrowed her eyes at me. “What?”

Through the door, the sound of raised voices turned my head. Shouts pierced the thick wood, though I couldn’t quite make out what the voices were saying. I rushed toward the door and pressed my ear against it.

“The Archon grows angry with me,” the Pater shouted.

My breath caught. His harsh shout made the hairs raise on the back of my neck.

“Tell me what’s happening, Magister! Why are so many of them alive?”

Through the wood, I couldn’t quite make out what Sion was saying in response, just the deep tone of his voice.

“I’ll tell you what it is!” shouted the Pater. “I have allowed the Serpent to thrive here at Ruefield. Because a traitor lives in our midst. Did you know that?” His voice rumbled through the wood.

My heart pattered, and I shot Percival a nervous look. I whispered, “He’s talking about a traitor.”

Had the Pater learned about the resistance? Or did he know that Maelor had helped me?

Even before he entered the room, the Pater’s anger was like a dark miasma clouding the dungeon air, making my skin prickle with fear. Who needed toxic, mind-bending mist when we had his rage?

“The Archon calls on me,” he went on. “I am his most devoted and fervent soldier. He calls on me to cleanse this land of the Serpent’s magic. But evil has breached our holy army’s defenses. It spreads so quickly. One moment, you are a person. The next, you gnaw on tree bark. A ravening animal. One day, you lie in your father’s arms. The next, you wonder if you could really…” His voice grew quieter, and I missed what he said for a few sentences. Then his voice rose to a shout again. “I need you to find out who warned Eboria! Why was the city prepared for our attack?”

Fear slid through my bones. The Pater was trying to conquer Eboria?

“The Archon knows we allow witches to live in Eboria. That den of iniquity!” he screamed. “As the Archon’s most loyal soldier, I must do as he commands. How is it that they knew we were coming? How is it that they closed the city gates so far in advance and prepared their archers? They had warning!” His voice rattled the door. “Perhaps I will retaliate against the Serpent by killing more of them today. Them, the Serpent’s wickedest soldiers. I shouldn’t allow a single one among them to live. Because what have they done to help the Order?”

The moment I heard the iron bar shifting outside the door, I leapt back. I shifted into place with the others just in time for the Pater marching into the room, his fists balled. His nose was slightly scrunched in disgust.

Sion sauntered in behind him. In contrast to the Pater, Sion looked relaxed, almost bored. He walked with a languorous pace, then leaned against a wall. He folded his arms, staring disinterestedly into the torch flames.

Normally, half a legion of Luminari followed everywhere the Pater went. But down here in the dungeon, he had only Sion for protection. And Sion seemed half-asleep.

The Pater stared at us and steepled his fingers. He looked as if he were mentally devising some sort of horrific torments for us.

A cold thread of fear coiled through me. He wanted to conquer Eboria? The one last refuge in Merthyn. Leo’s safe haven…the northern city had always been independent, even in the times of the kings.

My fingers twitched. It was almost as if fate were screaming my name.