“Of course, not,” Terra instantly denied. “The temple is important to keep them safe. But there’s no reason we can’t offer our help to everyone who petitions for it. Or even travel through the world with proper guards to ensure that we aren’t hurt.”
The Matron flushed. “Blasphemy.”
It was a word that Terra had heard with monotonous regularity over the past centuries.
“No.” She pointed toward the vast emptiness that surrounded them. “This is blasphemy. This place should be filled with Serafs treating those in need. We should have lines of petitioners out the door. Instead, we huddle here alone, waiting for someone with enough wealth to purchase our blessing. We aren’t angels of mercy, we’re mercenaries.”
More buzzing from the sisters arose as the Matron’s face turned a dark shade of puce.
“I won’t be lectured by you.” She pointed a finger toward the portal that Terra had left open. Better safe than sorry. “Get out.”
“I will.” Terra sucked in a deep, calming breath. Enough. Arguing with the Matron was a frustrating, worthless waste of time. And not the reason Terra had come here. “As soon as I finish what I came here to do.”
The Matron frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I was kidnapped and held hostage by a vampire named Vynom—”
“Because you left my protection,” the older female interrupted.
Terra shook her head. “I was lured there when someone used my medallion.”
“That’s ridiculous. No one could use it,” the Matron protested.
“No one but another Seraf,” Terra corrected.
“Another Seraf?”
“That’s what I said.”
The female stiffened, a wary expression on her narrow features. “Who?”
“We’re about to find out.” Terra reached into her pocket to pull out the strand of hair that she’d found in the cavern after escaping the cage with Javad. She held it up so everyone could see. “Whoever was working with Vynom left behind a clue.”
Closing her eyes, Terra muttered a simple spell. There was a tingle of magic in the air, and she opened her eyes to watch the hair float off her palm before gliding toward the Matron. Then, bypassing the leader of the Serafs, it twirled and landed on Cyra’s head. Terra’s heart squeezed even as she gave a sad shake of her head. The traitor had been obvious the moment Terra had caught the scent of aloe vera and found the hair.
After all, it was Cyra who’d brought the medallion to her. And promised to hide Terra’s disappearance from the temple. Still, it hurt even more than Terra expected. She’d thought Cyra was her friend. Instead, the female had done everything in her power to destroy Terra.
“I hoped my suspicions were wrong,” she whispered. “How could you?”
Cyra’s eyes darted from side to side as if she were desperately trying to think up a convincing lie. Then, clearly realizing that she’d been caught red-handed, she tilted her chin to a defiant angle.
“You were tearing us apart,” she accused Terra.
“Cyra.” The Matron swiveled her head to stare at the younger female in horrified disbelief. “Did you conspire with a vampire to harm one of your sisters?”
Cyra held out a pleading hand. “I had to get rid of her, Matron.”
“Why?”
“The younger Serafs were becoming restless.” She nodded toward the crowd currently watching them with avid gazes. “More and more of them were questioning your decisions, and some even whispered of finding a new Matron to lead them. A revolt was brewing. The only way to save what you built was to get rid of the source of their discontent.”
“Traitor!” The cry came from somewhere at the back of the room, and the Matron winced.
Glancing toward her flock, the Matron quickly judged the mood that was rapidly tilting from confused to angry. With surprising speed, she reached out to grasp Cyra’s arm and nodded toward Terra.
“Come with me.”
The Matron marched across the floor, dragging Cyra behind her. Terra started to follow, but with a blur of movement, Javad was suddenly blocking the Matron’s path.
“Be very careful, Matron,” he warned, his eyes smoldering with a bronzed glow. “I will destroy you if you so much as look at Terra wrong. Got it?”
The Matron flinched. Smart Seraf. Javad’s fangs were fully extended and ready to do serious damage.
“I’m not going to hurt her. I swear,” the Matron said, waving an unsteady hand toward the nearby opening. “We’ll go in there.”
In a tight group, they entered the small library that smelled of old leather and sandalwood. Terra took a deep breath, savoring the scent. She’d often taken refuge in this place when her frustration threatened to goad her into doing something stupid. There were few things more relaxing than hours spent lost in a good book.
Once inside, Javad shut the door and moved to stand next to the Matron. It was an unspoken threat.
The older female, however, was concentrating on Cyra, who was wiping away her tears.
“Child. What have you done?”
Cyra folded her arms around her waist. “I did it for you,” she told the Matron. “For the temple. You said we had to stop Terra. So I did.”
There was a long stretch of silence as the Matron’s color drained from her face. She looked almost sick.
“For me,” she breathed.
Without warning, Cyra had dropped to her knees, holding her hands out in a silent plea for understanding.
“We can’t let her lead the others astray, Matron.” Cyra’s eyes glittered in a frenzied way. As if she were on the verge of hysteria. Or madness. “Once she’s dead, we can convince the others—”
“Sleep.” The Matron spoke the word, and Cyra tumbled to the floor, her eyes closed, and her body slack.
There was another bit of tense silence as they stared down at the unconscious female. Then Terra turned her attention to her former leader.
“Cyra plotted to kill me, but the blame lies on your shoulders, Matron,” she said in harsh tones.
Expecting more excuses, or even accusations to turn the blame away from her, Terra was caught off guard when the Matron slowly nodded.
“Yes.”
Terra blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“You’re right.” Spinning
