“Astara.” And opening the door, the woman pushed her outside.
Trying to act normally, Teriana walked toward the camp, but a second later, she heard the rustle of wings.
And a glance upward revealed the shadow of an enormous hawk disappearing into the night sky.
14LYDIA
Lydia had been teamed with a group of soldiers for patrols. Told to point out anyone they crossed who had no life in them.
It hadn’t taken long.
She’d thrown up after the soldiers cut off the first blighter’s head. Had fallen to her knees and retched as they’d burned the body, the stink of cooking meat filling her nostrils even as guilt and anguish filled her guts. And in that moment, she’d been certain it couldn’t get worse—that this was the greatest horror she’d experience.
She’d been wrong.
The patter of feet running up stairs filtered out from a manor, and the soldiers paused, glancing at the building. “Squatters,” one of them muttered as he walked to the door, knocking hard. “Open up in the name of the King!”
Silence.
Lydia clenched her teeth, praying that the group she was with would move on. That they’d make it through today without killing anyone.
But the gods didn’t answer.
Instead, the soldier kicked in the door, the rest of the team moving swiftly inside, Lydia forced to run with them. They moved through the house, the men yanking open closets and looking under furniture. Upstairs, they moved from room to room, weapons in hand, until at last, a kicked-in door revealed a starved and filthy family crouching next to a wall. The children were crying softly, the mother and two older women attempting to quiet them. All very much alive.
Except for one.
The soldiers glanced to Lydia, and swallowing hard, she pointed at the mother. “Her.”
“You’re sure?”
Her throat closed up so that she couldn’t speak, but Lydia managed to nod. Yet as they moved on the woman, swords raised, the children screaming as they dragged their mother away, she said, “Wait! Let me … let me at least try to help her.”
The expressions on the soldiers’ faces told her that they wanted no part of such an effort, but she ignored them, elbowing her way to the woman.
Tears flooded down her face, and she dropped to her knees before Lydia. “Please, Marked One,” she begged. “They need me! They won’t survive without me!”
“I’ll try,” Lydia said, knowing she was talking to the Corrupter but praying if some vestiges of the woman remained, she’d hear.
Removing the thick gloves she wore, Lydia took a deep breath and then grasped the woman’s hand.
But the moment their bare skin touched, the Corrupter or the blight, she wasn’t sure which, snatched hold, the mist that was her life draining through her hand and into nothingness. Lydia screamed, and the soldiers caught hold of her and pulled her away.
“I’m sorry.” Her breath came in great heaving gasps. “She’s not alive. There’s nothing in her but death.”
“Then in the name of the Six and under the laws of the King, we will destroy this abomination,” the soldier said.
They grabbed the arms of the woman, dragging her down the stairs and out into the street, the crying children and the older women running behind.
“Please,” one of them begged. “You’re wrong. She’s alive. She’s their mother. Have mercy!”
Other squatters came out onto the streets or watched from windows, their eyes filled with horror as the soldiers forced the blighter to her knees. She fought and struggled, screaming for help. Screaming that her family needed her.
Hot tears flooded down Lydia’s cheeks because this was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. “Get the children inside,” she said to the older women. “Don’t let them see!”
But the women ignored her, too intent on struggling against the soldiers to reach the woman. Fighting to save her even as the children sobbed for their mother.
A blade flashed. Blood splattered the snow. A single scream split the air.
Then silence.
One of the soldiers doused the corpse in oil, then touched a torch to it. The smell of cooking flesh filled Lydia’s nose and she turned away and vomited. Her guts heaved over and over, and when she finally looked back, it was to find the family watching in mute horror as the flames consumed the woman they loved.
“If you need food, come to the god circle and you’ll be provided for,” one of the soldiers said.
The older of the women only spit on him before rounding on Lydia, pointing a finger at her. “Murder!” she shrieked. “She’s a murderer!”
The rest of the civilians took up the chant, pointing at Lydia and spitting at her feet as the soldiers hurried her away, their weapons in hand.
“This isn’t right.” She scrubbed at her wet cheeks. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“You have to,” one of the soldiers said. “Else you might as well bend a knee to the Seventh.”
Lydia’s skin crawled, and she lifted her head to the towers of the god circle. So many times, she’d felt the eyes of the Six on her. Sworn she’d seen the towers move, bending closer to look at her.
This time, it was the black tower of the Seventh that moved.
Her heart caught in her throat as the tower leaned over the city, drawing closer to her, the eyes carved into it glowing red and terrible. She opened her mouth to scream, recoiling backward and tripping over her own feet.
“What is it, Marked One?” he demanded.
“There!” She pointed, then blinked once, because the tower was once again upright. Once again nothing more than inanimate rock. “Was nothing,” she whispered. “I’m … I’m just tired.”
They carried on inside the temple, but once inside, she declined to join the others for dinner, the thought of eating making her ill. Instead, she asked one of the young healers to show her to the library.
The interior and exterior walls were lined with shelves that reached up to the ceiling, the space between filled with regularly set tables surrounded by padded chairs. There must have been thousands of books, and if Lydia had not seen the Great Library
