Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“I have to leave you now,” I whisper.
“We’ll be here when you get back,” Andor says. We stare at each other for a moment, though I’m aware he can’t actually see my eyes through the black veil. Then he flips the veil back over my head, grabs me by the face, and kisses me deeply. “Good luck, lavender girl,” he whispers as he pulls away, his gaze feverish, mouth open like he wants to say something else. “I…I…”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him, though my heart feels like it’s in a vise. What if I don’t see him again? There’s a chance I won’t come out of this alive. From now on, I’m by myself. No Lemi, no Andor, no Ellestra.
Just me.
And it’s just as well. The score I have to settle is all my own.
I give them both a curt nod before I crumble under the weight of it all, and then I look both ways and step out into the black-tiled corridor. Instinct tells me to run all the way to the Harbringer’s quarters, but with the disguise I have to believe that I won’t be found out. I just have to act the part, I have to blend in.
I walk away from the chapel, making sure my gait is slow and delicate, just like Sister Marit, but hands clasped at my waist. I keep the robe material pulled over them, as my unlined olive skin will be the only thing that will give me away, and stride down the hall in the direction the Sisters had come from.
So far I see no one else, but that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t in my throat, that sweat isn’t prickling the back of my neck. It isn’t until I’m at the main staircase that winds up through nearly all levels of the convent that my disguise is put to the test, light coming in from the stained-glass windows that rise from the bottom, reaching several stories high. Here you can look up to the pointed ceiling where the mural of the end days is painted, dragons flying around the realm, their fire torching everyone except the Saints of Fire.
Absolutely ludicrous.
Then I look down at the main floor, at the Great Hall of Zoreth, where a group of the Daughters of Silence has gathered by the hearth, listening to one of the Sisters drone on about servitude. What I wouldn’t give to set them all free, but I know that’s not what I’m here to do. Perhaps some other day. Perhaps that will become my new purpose.
So I head up the stairs. On the way I pass a couple of Daughters of Silence, as well as a few Sisters. The Sisters I nod to, the Daughters I ignore, though under my veil I can see how they make the sign of respect across their heart, their eyes filled with so much fear.
I let that fear fuel me. I keep walking, taking careful steps in my robe, until I’m at the highest level, where the painted dragons seem to torch me with their fire. From here I walk down a hall where the Sisters have their rooms. I pass by a few more of them, coming toward me like a black mass, gliding like ghosts.
“Sister,” one of them says to me as the group slows down, coming straight for me.
Oh fuck.
I slow my gait, not enough to stop, and make the sign of prayer, as if I am in the middle of one and can’t speak.
Three veiled heads nod, understanding.
“Fiery blessings,” the one Sister says as they continue past.
I feel like I’m going to throw up. I let out a shaky breath of relief, trying to remind myself that there is absolutely no reason for anyone to suspect who I really am.
Still, I glance over my shoulder and wait until the Sisters are gone before I go up the last narrow staircase that leads to the turret where the Harbringer’s quarters are.
I can only hope that she’s not there.
I hurry up the stairs and then down the narrow hall. I’ve never been up here before and assumed the whole space was her quarters, but there are several closed doors leading into different rooms, and I don’t know which one is hers, or if they all are.
I try the first one. The door is locked, which I take as a good sign.
I reach under my robe and into the pocket sewn into my armor, pulling out the lock-picking device that Steiner created for me. I make quick work of the lock, having done a few practice sessions back at Stormglen.
The lock clicks, to my relief, and I slowly push the door open.
I’m in an office, plain looking yet a little disorganized with a large oak desk piled with loose papers, surrounded by rolls of maps and charts and prayer banners, and shelves and shelves of books, portraits of dragons, Cappus Zoreth, and Magni peppering the walls.