Page 45 of Between Despair and Hope

A woman stood in the doorway, panting and covered in soot. Her veil was torn halfway off, and the hood had fallen down, revealing a mass of dark waves. Her shirt had been ripped open, revealing her shoulder and entire arm. Staring at me, enraged as she took in the novice in my arms, she started shouting at me. “Put her down and help me now!”

And I obeyed, gently lowering the novice to the ground before lunging forward, taking the bundle the other woman shoved at me. I only realized it was an infant when it squirmed in my hold.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I shouted back at her.

Where was I supposed to take a baby? She looked at me as if I were stupid and gestured to the other novices behind me.

I supposed that made sense.

Turning toward the one closest to me, I pushed the bundle into their arms. I gestured toward the western side of the palace, shouting about the rebels Nigel had promised me would be waiting. He’d offered his assistance just in case we needed it, knowing we had dragons to escape on. I was thankful the man had the idea.

“How many are inside?” I turned back to the woman who busted open the door and was surprised to notice she’d pulled the remaining fabric from her head. It felt like an affront to the gods, to see a novice’s face, and I knew if a master saw her, they’d have her beaten. It was a shame she’d chosen that lifestyle, considering the face she’d uncovered was fucking beautiful despite the soot and disgust covering her features.

“There are two dozen of us in total, but I counted at least six dead. That leaves, what, thirteen unaccounted for?” She glanced at the novices on the ground behind me to confirm. “They might not all be here though. He uses us around the palace.”

Glancing over her shoulder, I looked at the top of the staircase in horror, spotting the small child from the window.

“Fuck!” I shouted, shoving past her and taking the stairs two at a time, hoping they held up despite the supporting beams being in flames. I snatched the child with no gentleness and raced back down the stairs, shoving the little one into the woman’s arms. She slammed backwards from the weight, falling back against the door behind her. By the time two novices ran past, each carrying a child on the hip, she had steadied on her feet as she cradled the babe to her chest, glaring up at me.

“Sorry,” I gritted out, wincing. “Any more upstairs?”

“Shouldn’t be. Mathias must have followed me up there when I ran up to check, and I didn’t see him.” She coughed, rubbing the boy’s head.

“Which way should I go?”

“Down the hall—back right corner. I haven’t seen those novices come out. Last three doors.”

Turning on a heel, I held my breath and navigated the best I could through the debris, past the staircase and down the hall she’d indicated. I’d done some calculations, tallying how many women and children I’d seen, and after passing a few more novices bearing little ones, I thought there might only be one person left. Checking each room—cell, more like—I didn’t find anyone until the very last room at the end of the hall. The smoke wasn’t as penetrating back here, but the last door was locked from the outside, no key in sight. I kicked it open.

I nearly retched at what I saw. I was coughing anyway at that point, smoke taking its toll, and bile rose in my gorge. Holding my shirt over my face, I attempted to filter out some of the smoke in my lungs.

She wasn’t alive, that much was clear. Even under the smoke, the room had clearly been visited by death, and I doubted it was the fire that killed her. Strapped to a bed, the heavily pregnant woman was covered in blood from the waist down, and with the way her legs were contorted—

She’d died in childbirth. Alone.

She even had the fucking veil on. Covered even in death, as was the way of the Myriad. And here she laid, humbled by the same gods who’d caused havoc on my friends’ lives, on my own damn life. I wondered if they even cared about her anonymous piety, the very reason she had been tossed into a place to be no better than a broodmare.

Making up my mind, I stalked forward a few steps, pulled the cover off her face, and felt relief that her expression was serene. Smooth, pale skin and dark lashes were all I could make out in the minimal moonlight offered by the barred window. Offering a prayer to the old gods, I covered her body even though I knew it would be nothing but ash soon and left the room.

“Mara!” a voice cried out, and, through the increasing haze of smoke, I could see the woman who’d busted the door open running down the hall toward me.

Divine fucking hell.

She spotted me, stopping her running to bend over, hands on her knees as she coughed.

“One more! Mara. I haven’t seen—”

She fell into the wall beside her, coughing so roughly I grabbed her elbow before she could collapse.

“With child? Pale skin, dark hair?”

The novice nodded, and I decided I’d tell her once we left. Though she clearly couldn’t breathe, she had surprising strength as she pulled away from me, but she kept her hand on my arm for support.

“Where is she?”

Jumping as a voice penetrated my mind, I shirked away from her touch. Mind-speaking was about as common as my own vision-weaving abilities, but it still unsettled me. I didn’t need someone in the fucking Myriad in my head. I didn’t give a damn who she was or what Declan had been doing to them. As far as I was concerned, she brought this shit upon herself.

“Dead,” I said, voice monotone. “Come on.”

---