“Fuck the Truehearts, and fuck you, Father,” I snarl. To Garroway, I say, “Lock him up in the tightest cell you can find. Ask Grimsons where the rot-houses used to be—it’s time we reactivate those. Make sure he’s watched at all times, cub. Beat him, maim him, do whatever you want. Actually, I’d prefer if you do. But don’t kill him.”
Garroway smiles wickedly. “Yes, my queen.” He bumps Skar’s shoulder on the way by. “Manor Marquin looks great, by the way. Tidied up the place while I was there. It’s waiting for your illustrious return.” He winks.
Then he leads Father Cullard out of the eating room to another round of raucous cheers, dragging the filthy defiler by the rope around his neck, down a dark, dingy hall like the wounded animal he is. Never to see the light.
Chapter 55
Sephania
The next evening, after everyone sobers up, we’re ready. Well-rested. Not one-hundred percent, but when are we ever? It will have to do. I can’t keep my mother waiting. I can’t keep Aramastun Wyvox waiting.
In a small room of the Firehold we’re using as a command center, Rirth joins me and my mates as we pore over a map of Olhav and, specifically, the Judgment Ward.
Despite inhabiting it perhaps the longest of any district in Olhav—when I was imprisoned for months at the top of Sutlis Spire—it’s the ward I know the least about. It’s also the largest and most expansive ward, with skyrises that rival the Commerce Ward in height and stature, and a military presence that rivals Barnabac Craxon’s old stomping grounds.
Rirth, still using the canes as crutches and certainly going against my wishes by being out of bed, mutters to our group. “Aramastun’s army is diminished and shrinking by the night. The Faith Ward has collapsed, a leaderless frenzy of frothing, mindless fiends. The Commerce Ward is in tatters after my little pixie put an end to its illustrious leader.”
“I don’t even want to know how Pala managed that one,” Lukain murmurs.
“Yes you do, you old pervert,” Garroway chirps. “You’d love to knowexactlyhow—”
Lukain growls,. “I’m younger than you, reprobate!”
I stare at my dhampirs as Garroway giggles and stumbles from a shove from Lukain. I’m unimpressed. “You’re both children,” I sigh. And that settles it.
Rirth clears his throat. “As I was saying.”
“Yes, whatwereyou saying in your monotonous ramblings,” Skartovius poses, tapping his chin.
The nobleblood still doesn’t like the idea of us going through with this, meeting Aramastun where he’s strongest. He’s probably not wrong in that.
Rirth narrows his eyes on Skar, and I have to wonder if something passed between them on the battlefield outside the Faith Ward cathedral. Sure seems like it. “Fullbloods are losing their command over their thralls,” Rirth continues. “We’ve had months now of Silverblood circulating through Olhav. Before long, Aramastun’s army will dry up. If we can raise the gates separating the city and prevent curious Nuhavians from marching up the mountain to their deaths, even better.”
“So you’re saying now is the time to act,” I put simply. When Rirth shrugs and nods, I give Skar a challenging smile. “I told you.”
He rolls his eyes.
Vallan says, “Even so, it’s best if we have a plan of action.”
“Of course, my big brute,” I say, and then glance toward the open door of the room. “On that note.”
I leave the command center and head down the hall, listening to my mates complain and call out, wondering where the hell I’m going.
I barge into the Chained Sisters’ wing and make my way to Iron Sister Keffa’s bedroom, where she’s still laid up. There are no doctors with her this evening, which is a good sign. It means she’s resting and rehabilitating from the sword wound across her front.It’ll leave a nice scar to show my mother once they’re together again,I tell myself.
“Iron Sister,” I whisper, kneeling at her side.
Her eyes open. “Child.”
“Is there anything more you can tell us about Aramastun Wyvox before we face off against him? Anything that can alleviate my mates’ worries? Erm,myworries?”
She blinks, thinking. The lines on her leathery face seem deeper tonight, but I make nothing of it. She’s ancient, after all. “Well,” she says, “I was surprised to learn he has wings.”
My stomach plummets. “He . . .what?”
Her brow furrows.
I put my hands on my head, because it’s the only thing I can do to keep my brain lodged in my skull. “You didn’t think toleadwith that the other night?!”