CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The desert people welcomed her, having even there heard of her exploits. “We are shortly to visit Ysari the Artist and will tell your tale and receive Her grace.” Their painted pottery, jewelry, and decorated fabrics proclaimed the Artist’s influence. Ayal thrust her head in the sand, wanting to burrow away again.

—THE AYALYA

Ella pressed her nose to the window of the borrowed town car as Benn navigated Rosira’s steep streets, taking detour after detour. Whole sections of the city had been blocked off by two competing protest marches: one led by those supporting a separate Lagrimari state, and the other by those in favor of unification. Each was headed to the palace for a face-off in front of the seat of government.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get there?” Ella asked as they turned down a narrow side street.

“Eventually,” Benn replied, grimacing as the car ascended a sheer incline.

The vehicle—property of the Royal Guard—handled the near perpendicular slopes with ease. Ella’s nerves fired rapidly as they drove closer to the palace.

That morning, they’d completed the move to the town house. It had been a fairly simple affair since they’d had so little to take with them. The home was already furnished, and far too fine for their old, secondhand furniture anyway, so that had all been given away. Moving their clothes and personal items had barely taken any time at all.

And then the girls were off to school, a language immersion course for Lagrimari children housed temporarily in a leased storefront. Eventually, the Sisterhood hoped to integrate the adoptees into the Elsiran school system. Ella shuddered to think of what that would be like for the girls given the current climate.

If she could fix the country with a snap of her fingers, she would. For an assurance that Tana and Ulani would be safe and accepted in their new land, she would do anything, face down any monster—even one in a blue robe and topknot.

The route Benn took led them to a back entrance to the palace. They pulled into a vehicle depot and parked amidst rows of shining automobiles used by the army and Royal Guard, which both had stations here.

The High Priestess was being kept in the palace’s dungeon, a place reserved for high-value criminals too important or dangerous to be housed in a normal jail. Syllenne Nidos had still refused to speak to anyone, so it was likely that today’s excursion was an exercise in futility, but Ella was determined to at least try.

She’d never seen the palace before, never seen so much of Rosira before, and though she hadn’t gotten a glimpse of the front facade and majestic gates, even the side entrance was awe-inspiring, embellished with carved figures of animals greeting the Lord and Lady who had first settled Elsira.

Benn led her through hallways filled with finery, each distinctly decorated with mirrors, or tapestries, or paintings, or carvings. His pace was such that she did not get time to linger at the beauty and wealth on display, but she hoped one day to persuade him to give her a proper tour.

Soon enough, they were moving down a series of stairways, and down farther to what was obviously an early section of the building. Kerosene lamps projected pools of illumination on stone walls and a chilled dampness filled the air. An intricately filigreed brass gate loomed before them, manned by a small group of Guardsmen.

Benn conferred with a guard who soon opened the clanking door and ushered them into the cells. The dungeon itself was hardly the gothic horror novel nightmare she’d expected. It was no worse than the city constabulary she’d briefly been remanded to after being arrested while searching for her nephew. Though it was well kept and clean, the stone walls and iron bars still made her shiver.

The Guardsman led them through a series of corridors. Ella was surprised the dungeon was so large. Many sections were full—mostly men with a few women—though some halls were completely empty. They stopped in one such empty section that only housed a single prisoner. Seated on a cot that looked not dissimilar to the one Ella had been sleeping on the last few nights was Syllenne Nidos.

The woman looked up and regarded the visitors imperiously, her sharp, angular features more pronounced in the harsh lighting. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, the graying bulk thick and long, still red around the temples. Narrowed eyes regarded Ella before looking away.

The Guardsman left her and Benn alone with the prisoner. Benn, wearing his black uniform, took a position near the end of the hall, out of Syllenne’s line of sight. Ella stood straight, burning the vision of this woman into her memory.

“I’ve longed to see you here,” she said. “You deserve to be in prison. You’ve harmed many people and are guilty of more crimes than even I know. But are you guilty of what you’ve been put here for?”

Syllenne’s gaze snapped forward; she peered at Ella with a hint of intrigue.

“I know you’re not speaking to anyone. Not the attorneys brought in to defend you nor any of your Sisters. Not even Gizelle. I wonder … would you have spoken to Kess?”

Syllenne’s expression changed slightly, betraying a hint of suppressed emotion.

“Would you have confided in my sister, the one who knew all of your secrets?”

The High Priestess snorted.

“All right, maybe not all, but enough of them.”

Ella placed a hand on a bar, resting her weight on it. “For all that she regretted following you so blindly, near the end, my sister still cared for you. Loved you like a mother.” She was skating a little too close to secrets she would never share with the woman, no matter what. The manner by which she’d gained access to Kess’s history and remorse was something Syllenne could never know.

The High Priestess’s jaw tensed, and her eyes went soft for a moment. “Where is her baby?” Her voice was rough after days of disuse.

Ella swallowed, startled that she’d actually spoken. “Somewhere neither you nor Zann will ever find him.”

“A shame. We could have used Zann’s bastard child right about now.”

The little sympathy that had seeped into Ella for the woman burned away. She’d hidden her infant nephew precisely so he wouldn’t be used as a pawn. It was the one last thing Kess had asked of her.

Ella kept her voice light; she wasn’t here to antagonize. “We’ll have to use something else, then. So is Zann Biddel responsible for you being in here?”

“Many have had a hand in my current circumstances. Including you.” Syllenne’s voice was ice. “Didn’t you turn in the supposed account registry ‘found’ by that shrinking little shrike, Rienne?”

“It wasn’t yours?”

Syllenne snorted. “I have been the High Priestess for close to twenty years. I’ve never left anything even mildly incriminating written down.”

Her indignation made Ella smile. “It didn’t seem like your style.”

“Certainly not.” Syllenne’s gaze turned hazy. “Never trust a man, Mistress Farmafield. No matter what they say.”

Ella glanced at her husband who, while out of sight, was still within listening distance. “Were you hurt by a man?”

A brittle trill of laughter drilled the air. “Why are you here? A hairdresser. A nobody. What is it that you think you can do?”

Ella straightened her shoulders. “I’m here to protect my family. I’m here because I stumbled onto something big that I didn’t understand, that affects us all. I want a country I can live in safely with those I love. I—”

“Don’t you think I want that, too?” Syllenne spat, leaning forward. “Everything I’ve ever done is for Elsira.”

Ella’s temper rose. “Every despot says the same lines. ‘It was all for love of country.’ You helped kill Prince Alariq! Was that for Elsira?”

“You think you know so much,” she hissed, rising from the cot. “Prince Alariq was close to signing a deal with foreign mages—Physicks from Yaly—to create a direct transportation channel from their state across the southeastern mountains. Some kind of magicked airtrain.” Her eyes rolled with disgust. “That kind of thing could destroy Elsira.”

“A train? Carrying goods and people between lands? How would that ruin us?”

“We survive because of our unique and insular nature. It’s what makes us great. Alariq had no respect for our ideals and values. It wasn’t my decision for him to die, but those in Yaly who oppose the Physicks and wanted the prince dead were powerful enough that no loyal Elsiran would have reasonably stopped them. Even better to assist and be owed a favor.” Syllenne’s lips snapped shut. Her nose flared with anger and, perhaps, the recognition that she’d said too much.

“Are you a member of the Hand of the Reaper?” Ella asked.

“Do you think I’d tell you if I were?” Syllenne waved off the idea with a flick of her wrist. A peculiar sapphire ring on her index finger flashed in the cell’s low light. “I wouldn’t make it to my own execution if I admitted something like that. There are rules. Checks and balances.”

Ella stared, understanding settling over her. Syllenne hadn’t admitted it, but her lack of denial was clear. “You did bomb your own temple.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Me, personally? If you thought that, you wouldn’t be here.” Syllenne clenched her jaw. “However, in military strategy, one must often accept a strategic loss. If it supports the greater good.”

Ella turned away. “You knew about it. You gave your approval for the murder of the Prince Regent and all those worshippers. Your worshippers. I don’t know why I would expect anything less.”

“Ask yourself, if your theory is correct and I am a Reaper, then how am I here? Why have I been offered up like a sacrificial lamb for this … misery?” She motioned around the prison cell.

Arms crossed, Ella regarded the woman silently.

“I walked into a trap.” Syllenne’s expression was wry. “I knew Zann Biddel couldn’t be trusted, but I thought I had enough leverage to properly manage him. I underestimated him. Don’t you do the same.”

The High Priestess turned and made her way back to the cot, sitting heavily. “I see a lot of myself in you, Ella. An intractable will. A sharp mind. Just like your sister. You two are very much alike. Very much like me.”

Gripping her arms tight, Ella shook her head. “I’m nothing like you,” she whispered. Syllenne shrugged and waved the statement away.

Ella’s heart beat painfully in her chest. “So if not you, who carried out the bombing?”

Syllenne kept her head turned, staring at the stones in the wall.

“If they have abandoned you as you say, why protect them?”

“I protect no one but myself.” Syllenne’s voice was low.

“So why talk to me at all?”

She peered across the cell down her angular nose. “Call it nostalgia. How do you know so much; I assume Kess left some sort of diary? Thought I taught her better than that.”

Ella rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. She couldn’t go there. “I want to stop the next attack. You can help me. Make up for some of what you’ve done.”

Shrewdness entered the woman’s gaze. Her posture straightened. “Where is the baby? He’s the last card to play against Biddel.”

“No.” The word vibrated against Ella’s lips.

Syllenne spread her arms. “Then I cannot help you. The herd must be culled. For Elsira.”

A growl of frustration left Ella’s lips. “Do you even believe that nonsense?”

“I believe that men have ruled tyrannically since the beginning of time. I fought and clawed my way into power to stand up for us, for the women of this land. For our children and grandchildren. At every step I was opposed, mocked, disregarded, and belittled. I finally landed in a place of influence, with a hand on the wheel to direct where we were going, and then the Great Awakening happened and it all went to shite.

“The Goddess set us on this path with no direction. Absorb a horde of foreigners who don’t speak our language or know our ways—that’s a recipe for utter destruction. And then She disappears, unreachable, unwilling, and unconcerned. You should be grateful for the Reapers. You should thank your ineffectual saints for people like me, willing to do what must be done, regardless of the consequences.”

Ella listened to the diatribe, her will turning steely. “The same consequences that landed you in here? Where are your Reapers now? Why aren’t they helping you?”

Syllenne refused to respond. Frustration warmed Ella’s blood. “Do you know the plans for the next attack or not? I don’t care who’s behind it. I just want to stop it.”

The High Priestess made a show of pressing her lips together.

“You’ll only help me if I let you use my nephew in some vengeance scheme against Biddel?”

“The child is proof that Biddel is a liar. A foreigner, like those he rails against. Do you think the people would follow him so blindly if they knew his secrets?”

“I won’t use the baby that way,” Ella said firmly. “Zann would kill him to keep the truth about his own heritage hidden, as you well know.”

Syllenne crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. “Strategic loss. Greater good.”

Tears gathered in Ella’s eyes. She was done here. This woman was hopeless. She had no conscience and no heart.

“I hope you rot in here, Syllenne. For every bad deed you’ve ever done, and those still to come. I hope you never see daylight again.”

She spun around and raced toward Benn, eager to be out of this underground prison that she hoped would be Syllenne Nidos’s crypt.