At the front of the square stood a young man, his cloak half-slipped from his shoulder.
“Is what true?” I managed.
A woman stepped forward beside the boy, her hair streaked with gray and plastered to her forehead.
“The broadcast,” she cried out. “Have the wandering souls been fed to the Veythar? Did the High Court put them in those chambers?”
I swallowed hard, my gaze moving across the collage of faces. The torches hissed in the downpour, casting a sickly orange light over people.
“It is true.”
A loud rumble rose from the front rows, spreading through the square until it was a roar that rivaled the thunder. People surged against the base of the platform, their shoulders slamming into the wood.
“The Lunthra bond is a lie!” I called out, my voice straining to carry over the storm.
A wave of shocked murmurs rolled through the front rows.
I leaned over the edge, my fingers digging into the wood until the splinters bit into my palms.
“It is a fabrication to keep you afraid. There is no such thing. A soul either accepts a match, or they are bound to their true soulmate—the only real Sayel bond. The Court has been condemning the truly bound to keep their own power—”
A piercing shriek tore through the air, cutting of the rest of my words. The sound was so absolute it forced the crowdto buckle, thousands of bodies doubling over as hands clamped over ears
I winced, my gaze snapping toward the Great Hall.
High above the massive stone wall, a concealed mechanism groaned open, and a wall of water began to plummet from the roof. It descended in a shimmering sheet, the surface of the water warping and rippling until a pale, translucent form began to take shape within the cascade.
Lord Evander’s face filled the curtain of water, a mountain of silver light that stretched toward the storm. His features were cast in deep shadow, the falling water giving the illusion that his skin was constantly shifting, a ghost made of rain. His eyes, enormous and unblinking, stared down at the plaza.
“People of Haelen,” his voice boomed. “We hear your anger.”
My fingers tightened around the platform as I waited for him to twist the truth.
“For generations, our sole purpose has been to protect you,” Evander continued, his wrinkled features unmoving. “To keep the balance between our city and the darkness beyond.”
“You tell lies!” an elderly woman screamed, stepping into the torchlight. “You had my granddaughter murdered!”
Another man stepped forward, raising his torch. “And my son!”
Lord Evander’s face remained blank, his speech continuing.
“Every sacrifice was made to ensure the survival of our species.”
As he spoke, my eyes caught sight of a dark spot at the bottom of the cascade.
Behind the veil of falling water, a small form darted out, moving in a quick blur around the edge of the building. I squinted through the rain, tracing the shape of unruly grey hair as it hopped onto the Thrynn bridge.
A hysterical laugh escaped me, the sound lost in the storm.
Meliory had escaped.
As he vanished into the fog, a hand tangled into my hair, yanking my head back with enough force to make my neck pop.
“Focus on the Lord when he speaks,” the guard spat into my ear.
I cried out, my wrists straining against the silver cuffs until the metal bit into my skin, desperate to claw at him. But before I could wrench away, the guard let out a strangled shriek. His grip vanished as he was flung backward, his body hitting the wood with a heavy thud.
The scent of wet stone was instantly swallowed by the smell of scorched earth and old smoke. I whipped around, my breath hitching. A rope of spirits materialized in the air—inky, translucent wisps knotted tail-to-tail like a living lash. My eyes followed the line of shadow down the platform, across the square, and toward the river.