Page 83 of Grave Situation

Above me, Leicht is still growling. I want to ask him if he knows which dragon riders are coming, but I don’t want to hear his voice in my head again. I can’t. He’s not supposed to be there.

So, instead, I focus on what’s happening behind me.

“…have in your possession a holy object, and Idemand?—”

“Bishop,” Jaimin’s voice is like ice, “you’re in no position to demand anything. Are you aware of what you’ve done? You’vemurdereda dragon rider. At this precise moment, you’re within a hair of being burned to a crisp by an infuriated dragon—and if, by some freak chance, we convince him not to do that, you’ll still have to deal with the grieving mage whose twin sister you killed. I don’t think anything less than your bloody liver on a plate will appease his sorrow.”

There’s a stuttering breath, and I hear whispers as well, but I don’t turn around. I’m scared to look away from Tia again. I don’t know why, but a part of me still thinks that if I just hold on to her, she can come back.

Even though that’s not possible. You can’t bring back the dead, just reanimate their corpses. Tia would hate that… and it wouldn’t be her.

The stone pulses softly to me, a comforting assurance, but I irritably shove it away. How dare it make itself felt now, after leading my sister to her death?

“H-He fled from a convocation,” the bishop says, but he lacks the strength of his prior conviction now. “He refused to surrender a holy object to the temples.”

“Do you think that merits your murder of his sister?” Jaimin counters, his voice icy steel.

“I-I didn’t… How was I to know the archers would kill her?”

“That’s what archers do,” Coryn points out, and I wonder when he arrived. “If you give a man training and weapons, then order him to use them on people, you can’t be surprised when people die.” He sounds like scary Coryn again, and I resist the temptation to tell him to kill them all.

I want to. I want to see that bishop’s head fly from his body.

But that won’t fix this. It won’t bring Tia back. It will just delay the purpose she gave her life for.

So, instead, I’m going to let Jaimin handle the bishop, and I’m going to wait for my master.

And hold Tia’s hand. Because once I let go, my sister’s gone forever.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Jaimin continues. “You need to send a report to your high priest immediately, because dragons communicate with each other over long distances, and I can assure you, there are dragon riders on their way here now. They’re going to demand answers for why the Temple of Wasianth has killed one of their people, and your high priest won’t be happy if he hasn’t even been told about it.”

A murmur rises among the priests.

“We will wait here for the dragon riders, and then we will continue our journey unmolested. You’ll advise the convocation that it would be in the best interests ofallof us, especially the temples, for us to be allowed to continue unhindered. Be very convincing, Bishop, because that may be the only thing that convinces Leicht here not to hunt you down and use your bones to pick his teeth.”

Leicht obligingly increases the volume of his growl, reaching over me and Tia toward the priests behind me. I hope he’s showing them all his teeth.

“Oh, I am.”

I shudder away from that voice. No. No. I didn’t hear him. That’s not possible. It’s amistake.

“Do you understand me?” Jaimin finishes, and my vision fills with the red-haired acolyte’s face, the stone’s urgency swamping me. I grit my teeth. As much as I want to vindictively ignore it, I can’t. Not when it could lead to our failure and make Tia’s death worthless.

Is he the champion?I ask the stone, only to get a dissent in reply. Just another one of us, then, dragged along on the journey.

Clearing my throat, surprised to find it hurts—how hard did I scream before?—I mutter, “The acolyte.”

At first I’m not even sure if Jaimin hears me, but then he says, “However, as a sign of good faith and to prove our pure intentions, we will honor Mage Silverbright’s earlier offer. One of your acolytes may accompany us.”

I hate every word of that. One of the people responsible for Tia’s murder, riding with us every day? It burns.

There’s a rush of whispers, and I get the strong feeling that the bishop might be preparing to argue. Leicht’s snarl ends that, and the bishop says, through chattering teeth, “I accept your offer. Pen will acco?—”

“No,” Jaimin interrupts. “We will decide which acolyte will accompany us. Since we are making this generous concession, after all.”

“O-Of course. All the acolytes will step forward.”

I stare at Tia’s face. There’s a smear of blood on her jaw, and of course the horrible, hideous arrow in her throat. I want to pull it out, but what if it needs to stay there so she can be healed? I’ve heard of that happening—a blade or arrow preventing too much blood from being lost until a healer can arrive. Jaimin said she’s gone, and I know it’s true—I canfeelher absence—but I can’t bring myself to end that tiny smudge of hope.

---