The Half King

29

The Petros Blade had never felt heavier than when Cerise carried it down the stairs and into the foyer, where hundreds of palace workers had gathered outside the corridor that led to the sanctuary. They waited in silence to learn if the king’s emissary could perform one last miracle and save them from a deadly curse and the jaws of war. She could swear the slim blade doubled in weight beneath the pressure of all those wide, hopeful gazes.

As the crowd parted and she glided slowly among them, all heads lowered in respect. An occasional hand reached out to touch her skirts. She hurried her pace to discourage the contact. Now more than ever, it was dangerous for anyone to treat her differently. She noticed Lady Delora Champlain standing alone in a quiet corner. Delora wrung her hands but gave Cerise a nod of encouragement.

As she crossed the open-air corridor, the arched sanctuary doorway came into view, and below it, Father Padron stood tall in his gilded robes, both hands folded in front of him. The laws of the realm forbade laymen from entering the sanctuary without permission, so on this side of the threshold stood the king, Daerick, and General Petros. All three of them were the picture of decorum in their uniform jackets and sashes, not a wrinkle or a hem out of place. But none of them could hide their pulsing throats and shifting Adam’s apples. And one man was absent—Cole Solon.

In accordance with tradition, Cerise curtsied first to Father Padron and then to the king. Kian gave her a small smile of encouragement as she lowered before him, but the tiny beads of sweat along his upper lip betrayed his anxiety.

She felt it, too.

She stood straight and addressed Father Padron, loud enough for all to hear. “Your Grace, Holiest among Shiera’s Order, and Divine Protector of her servants, I ask that you grant these laymen entry into our sanctum, so they may humble themselves before Shiera and atone for the sins of their ancestors.”

“I invite them to enter,” Father Padron announced, and without further ado, he turned to lead the way as Cerise took her place by his side.

“Do you know where Cole is?” she whispered to him.

Instead of speaking to her, Father Padron did something she hadn’t known was possible. He used magic to reply. She flinched as she felt him broach her mind with his voice.

Probably holding back for a grand entrance , he said. Cole believes mortal eyes only exist to gaze upon his face .

Cerise looked at Father Padron, but he gazed straight ahead and ignored her startled reaction. Why had he chosen that precise moment to speak to her through magic when he had never done it before? Did he mean to unsettle her? Was it some kind of a test? Or a demonstration of his power, a reminder that he was still in control, despite the fact that she held the Petros Blade? She could only guess. But whatever his motives, he had taught her a valuable lesson. Now that she had experienced the magic, she sensed that all she had to do was think about him and respond. The act was so simple that she could have easily answered him with her mind, though she didn’t, of course.

“Should we wait for him?” she asked.

“With less than an hour until sunset?” he whispered aloud. “I think not.”

Father Padron confounded her, but on this point, he was right. The strips of light peeking from the curtained windows glowed orange with approaching dusk. It was safer to begin the ceremony and save Cole for last.

Daerick’s life depended on it.

“I sent Father Bishop to retrieve him,” Father Padron added. “By force, if necessary.”

They entered the prayer room, where every priest in residence had assembled for the ritual. The men formed two groups with a wide aisle between them, each priest standing in front of a thin floor cushion. In unison, they knelt upon their cushions and then used their energy to create a hundred tiny flames that floated high above their heads. The light cast a glow upon the animated ceiling murals that depicted the Great Betrayal—the reason that had brought them all there.

From this point on, Cerise would have to trust her instincts.

She strode down the aisle in brisk steps to give the illusion of confidence. When she reached the burning altar, she rested the Petros Blade on the ledge, far from the sacrificial bowl and the flame below it. No one would thank her if the blade was scorching hot when she used it to prick their skin. She indicated for Kian to join her on the left while Daerick and General Petros stood to her right. Father Padron remained in the aisle between his priests, but he gave her a nod as if to say the rest was in her hands.

She began with a prayer, followed by a brief history of creation—the temple-approved version with no mention of Shiera’s lover or their mortal descendants. She spoke slowly to give Cole Solon a chance to join them, but by the time she reached the most relevant part of the story—the role each dynasty had played in the Great Betrayal—he was nowhere to be seen.

Unable to delay any longer, she lifted the Petros Blade from the altar and reached for Kian’s hand. She would begin with him. “It is believed that house Mortara,” she said, her fingers so cold and numb that she could barely feel Kian’s touch, “called upon their allies to slay our Holy Creator. They led the noble dynasties into unspeakable sin, and for their treachery, house Mortara was cursed with darkness.” She asked the king, “Is your heart filled with repentance?”

Kian glanced at her with a hidden smile. They both knew what his heart contained, and it wasn’t love for the goddess. But he answered, “Yes,” and laid his palm open for her to slice a scarlet line in his flesh.

The instant his blood appeared, the blade absorbed it and glowed brightly enough to make Cerise shield her eyes. It lasted only a moment before the glow dimmed, but it filled her with the first real hope she had felt all day. She met Kian’s gaze as excitement passed between them.

The ceremony was working.

Eagerly, she waved Daerick forward. “House Calatris,” she said, taking his hand, “used their superior intelligence to devise a method to slay the goddess. For their treachery, they were cursed with more knowledge than the mortal mind can bear.”

“My heart is repentant,” Daerick blurted before she could ask.

She sliced his palm and nearly cried with relief when the blade absorbed his blood and glowed once again.

He quickly traded places with General Petros, who offered his meaty palm. Cerise announced, “House Petros, skilled in the military arts, forged the weapon to slay our creator. That weapon is the same blade I hold today. For their treachery, house Petros was cursed with insatiable bloodlust.” She tipped back her neck to meet the general’s eyes, which shimmered with moisture. It was ironic and somehow fitting that his heart was filled with more repentance than the others. She had to bear down slightly harder to cut his callused skin, but once she did, the blade accepted his blood and dimmed for the final offering.

House Solon .

Cole still wasn’t there. She turned to Father Padron and found him at the back of the room, engaged in a conversation with Father Bishop. Father Padron looked at her and shook his head. He hadn’t been able to find Cole.

Her stomach sank. She darted a glance at the curtained windows, wondering how much longer she had until sunset. If Cole didn’t appear before Kian vanished, would she be able to continue the ceremony, or would she have to start over the next day?

General Petros leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Use your own blood, my girl. Cole’s heart is a stone compared to yours.”

She didn’t doubt that. But General Petros didn’t know the truth about her parentage. She wasn’t a Solon.

But she knew where to find one.

“Nobody move,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Taking the Petros Blade with her, she hitched up her gown and ran down the aisle between the priests, propriety be damned. She streaked past Father Padron and continued through the open-air corridor, into the crowded palace foyer, and up the stairs, ignoring the clamor of confused voices in her wake. She sprinted all the way to her suite and tore open the door so quickly that Nina, who’d been giving Blue a bath, fell onto her backside.

“Are you all right?” Cerise asked.

Nina nodded, rubbing her swollen belly. Her veil was pulled back, both sleeves wet and pushed up to her elbows. “Is it…is it over?”

“No.” Cerise helped her sister to her feet. “I need you to come with me.”

Nina shook her head wildly as she lowered her veil.

“Listen to me,” Cerise said. “The ritual is working, but I need a Solon to finish it. I was going to use my blood, but I’m not a Solon.”

“What about Cole?” Nina asked.

“We can’t find him.”

“There must be another Solon in the palace.”

“Maybe, but I don’t have time to look.” Cerise lifted a hand toward the open balcony, where the daylight had taken a pinkish hue. “The sun will set soon. Please. For Daerick. For me.”

Nina’s chest rose and fell in rapid breaths.

“No one will know it’s you,” Cerise promised, reaching for her sister. “Your face will stay hidden, and I won’t announce your name. After this, you can go home to your husband, and he’ll never know you were here.”

Nina was so tense that she’d balled her hands into fists. She took one forward step and stopped before taking another. After a long breath that billowed her veil, she wiped both palms on her skirts and then followed Cerise out the door. With their fingers laced together, they left Blue behind and rushed to the sanctuary.

Nina’s fingers trembled as Cerise towed her down the aisle between the priests and to the burning altar, where Kian and the others waited with questioning gazes. Cerise gave them a quick shake of her head—a message that she would explain later.

Right now, there wasn’t time.

She turned Nina to face the room and pried loose her fingers. Nina clutched her gown with both hands, shrinking against the altar as if to disappear inside it.

“It’s all right,” Cerise whispered. “Give me your hand.”

Nina obeyed, her palm shaking.

“The Solon dynasty,” Cerise called into the prayer room, “put forth the most alluring among them: a mortal whose face was so breathtaking that the goddess was lured from the heavens and seduced into taking vulnerable human form. For their treachery, house Solon was cursed with self-destructive allure.” She squeezed Nina’s hand. “Do you come before the goddess humbled, seeking her forgiveness?”

Nina nodded her veiled head.

“Say it out loud,” Cerise whispered.

“Yes,” Nina said in a broken voice.

Cerise brushed a thumb over Nina’s delicate skin, and then she nicked her sister’s palm just hard enough to break the flesh. Nina didn’t so much as flinch as the blade absorbed her blood and glowed brightly enough to render her veil transparent.

In the moment before the light dimmed, Cerise caught a glimpse of her sister’s face and saw something that eclipsed fear. Nina’s features were frozen in what could only be described as a silent death cry. She reminded Cerise of the rabbit kit at the temple and how it had screamed when the serpent had entered its cage. This couldn’t possibly be about Nina’s husband.

So if Nina was the rabbit, then who—or what —was her serpent?

The question flew to the back of Cerise’s mind as the blade dimmed, and everyone glanced around for some sign that the ritual had worked. General Petros studied his hands and arms, flexing them as if testing an injured limb.

“Do you feel any differently?” Daerick asked him.

The general shrugged. “Do you?”

Daerick probed his face and stroked his scraggly beard. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s hard to say.”

In unison, they all looked to Kian, the only person who could eliminate any doubt as to whether or not the curse was broken. He pushed back his hair and locked eyes with Cerise as the shaded windows darkened with approaching twilight. A glimmer of hope passed between them. She had never wanted anything more than this: for him to remain whole.

Please , she silently begged. Please let this work .

The room went silent, every pair of eyes fixed on the king. No one moved, and if anyone breathed, Cerise couldn’t hear it. Even time seemed to have gone still. Just when she didn’t think she could survive another moment of waiting, the glow faded completely from the windows, and the only light that remained flickered from the enchantments overhead.

Kian exhaled into a shaky smile.

The sun had set, and he was still there.

Cerise drew a breath to thank the goddess, but her lungs were barely half full before Kian’s fingertips began to curl into smoke. He raised both hands to his face, watching in horror as they vanished in front of his eyes. He stared at Cerise as if she could explain what had gone wrong. She only shook her head. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, but that didn’t stop the shadows from claiming him, faster and faster until there was nothing left of his body. His eyes were the last of him to go—not the storm-cloud gaze of a king but the broken despair of the damned. Those eyes pierced the deepest, most tender part of her soul, and then they were gone.

“No,” she cried.

Murmurs erupted in the sanctuary and beyond to the open-air corridor, where a crowd of people had followed and now learned of her failure. Through a haze of grief and shock, she looked across the room to Father Padron, the one person who could help her make sense of what had happened.

But he had no guidance for her. Strangely, he was retreating. He didn’t even seem glad that the ceremony had failed. He looked like a captain abandoning a sinking ship as he inched along the hallway leading to his office, his blue eyes radiating fear. Cerise had no idea what could have possibly scared him, but if the high priest of Shiera didn’t know what to do, what chance did she have?

“Come with me,” Nina urged, brushing the tears from Cerise’s cheeks. “Let’s take the carriage to the dock. There’s a ship bound for Calatris tonight.”

“No,” Cerise whispered. “There’s still time.”

Daerick cleared his throat. His face was ashen. “Not for me, there isn’t.”

“Don’t say that,” she told him. “We have until midnight.”

“To do what?” he asked.

“To keep the fight going.” She pointed the blade at the altar. “The ceremony was working. We all saw it. We must have missed something, some final step. Whatever it is, we have to find it.”

“Please,” Nina said, glancing at the sanctuary entrance, where priests were filing out into the corridor to disperse the crowd. “Let’s leave while we can.”

Cerise shook her off and focused on Daerick. “Help me figure this out.”

“The archives,” he said, a flicker of hope in his gaze. “The chamber Father Padron didn’t want you to see. There has to be a reason he hid it. Now that you can”—he lowered his voice to a whisper—“use magic, you can open the wall and see what’s inside.”

“No!” Nina hissed. “It’s out of the question!”

Cerise whirled on her sister. “Nina, I’m not going anywhere. Not until every last moment is spent and there’s nothing left to try. So either go back to my suite or—”

“I won’t leave you.”

“Then help me.” Cerise nodded at Daerick. “Actually, help him .”

Daerick raised a questioning eyebrow.

“There’s only one way inside the archives, and it’s through here.” Cerise hooked her thumb toward the sanctuary wall. “With all the priests distracted, no one will notice my energy, but they’ll hear it if I split the wall.” And that was assuming she had the skill to do it. “I need you to think of a reason to clear the sanctuary.”

Daerick nodded slowly. “I might have an idea.”

“ And ,” she added, “keep the priests out until I’m finished. Especially Father Padron. He’s been watching me since my Claiming Day. I can tell he knows there’s something different about me.”

Nina clutched the fabric over her heart so hard that her knuckles turned white. Even so, she nodded. “We’ll find a way to make it work.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait in my suite?” Cerise asked. Whatever had terrified Nina during the ceremony, it hadn’t let go. “Blue will protect you. Or if you want, you can take Father’s carriage someplace safe.”

“Oh, Cerise,” Nina said in an exasperated voice that skated the line between laughter and tears. “There’s nowhere I would feel safe if you weren’t with me.” She cradled her swollen belly and went quiet for a moment. “I won’t leave you, so don’t ask me to.”

There was a dark undercurrent in Nina’s tone that Cerise didn’t like. Something was happening inside her sister’s mind that she wasn’t privy to—something unsettling. She desperately wished she could read Nina’s face without falling into a trance.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Cerise asked her sister.

“Yes.” Nina folded her arms, as stubborn as ever. “Be ready to do your job, because I’m ready to do mine.”