Page 122 of Monsters in Love

A quick glance had her gulping. Armored guards were closing in from all sides.

Gods. Even knowing she’d come from the tunnels, Jaston wasn’t going to hear her, which meant the bishop was their only chance—and she wouldn’t risk her sister on another unreasonable man. She drew Emmi away from Jaston, into a small pocket of space created by onlookers and abandoned market wares.

The people watching them were scared—she understood, she was, too.

But they all needed to know what was happening here. How wrong they’d been about the demons, and how much danger they were truly in. If they didn’t ready themselves, they’d all be killed.

Behind her back, she slid her map from its hiding place in her sleeve and clutched it in her palm.

Can I truly risk this?

Talos and Tarn remained in the tunnels.

If she gave her sister the map and the final instructions, she might be consigning them to death. Yet if she did not, if the bishop did not hear her, then she consigned her entire town to that fate. If the guards would not protect the people of Windhaven, then those people had to protect themselves.

Even if I’d rather cut out my own heart than let it come to this.

They’d listened to her sister the night of the ball.

Hopefully, they would again.

Keeping her movement hidden from Jaston’s view—one benefit to her ridiculous gown—she pushed her map into her sister’s hands. If she couldn’t get Jaston or the bishop to see reason, then her map might be the only chance they had of surviving the night.

“Be brave,” Belle whispered to her sister. “Show them.”

Emmi took the map, eyes huge with worry. “Belle…”

“Tell them to use fire,” Belle whispered. Then she spun away from her sister and approached Jaston, doing everything she could to keep the eyes of the guards on her. “I know what I saw!”

“You are confused,” Jaston snapped.

“I am not.” She felt, rather than saw, Emmi disappear into the crowd behind her, and a tiny puff of relief escaped her lips. Her sister would warn the people, help them strike against the demons and then flee for the safety of the woods.

Now it was up to her to convince their leaders to do their jobs. To lead and protect the town.

She glared at Jaston. “Take me to the bishop. Let him settle this.”

“Very well.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, pulling her toward the elaborately carved wooden doors of the Chastry. “He will banish these thoughts from your head. Then you’ll see your mistakes and take your place as my wife.”

“Wife?” she yelped. “Are you mad?”

“No, Belle.” He kicked open the doors. “I am furious.”

He dragged her into the building and the glare of gold momentarily blinded her.

Blinking rapidly, she tried to take stock of her surroundings—while struggling not to fall over her skirts. She stumbled behind Jaston, her shoulder screaming in protest against the harsh grip. Eyes watering, the stark difference between the tunnels and this space struck almost like a blow.

The inside of the Chastry was a gleaming masterpiece of white and gold.

Carved dragons wound around every pillar, and elaborate plaster depictions of the Golden Gods traveled every wall. The entire space was blinding white plaster, broken only by lines of gold framing each panel, and gilt accenting each meticulously carved scale.

Well gold, and the massive stained glass window.

The glass framed the larger piece of the picture, above which the glass in Talos’ tower merely accented. That glass had been the colored sky above, a symbolism of magic’s breath. This piece told more—it depicted the Golden Gods they prayed would return.

The fading afternoon sun burned through the glass, making the curling dragon’s shape seem to writhe. Belle knew it was meant to look mighty, yet something about the beast’s pose spoke of torment.

Perhaps it did.

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