Page 35 of Between Fear and Favor

There was some satisfaction in knowing the Supreme would hate it. When he’d visited, the novices had bustled and hurried to make sure everything was spotless. Now, though, every drop of blood and gore which would stain these floors was by his hand.

“These chandeliers aren’t enough,” I said to Cal, who I’d forced into the role of errand boy rather than guard. “I think a dozen torch lamps ought to make up the difference?”

He didn’t bother to agree or argue, only nodding as he strode toward the entryway.

The temple was much closer to the Wend than the palace, and thus would be a perfect location to transport the wounded after their initial assessment at the tent I’d already provided. Rainier had immediately given me the conduit I’d asked for, not questioning my guard when I’d sent him to the palace. Cal even interrupted his council meeting, but Rain had known I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.

Falina was young, barely older than Dickey, and I was grateful she was who Rain had assigned to me. She was infinitely safer helping me than she would have been outside the city walls. She would use her divinity to facilitate the transport of injured soldiers—keeping her out of harm’s way.

Malva fluttered between the cots, tucking in the recently washed and boiled linens, while humming an upbeat tune. Despite what was coming and the hopelessness of the siege, this one small improvement had lifted everyone’s spirits—mine included. And after a few hours of hard work that didn’t feel so useless, I had come to some conclusions.

The Supreme and Nereza, whether connected to me by fate or something else, would not overpower me. Because, while we might have been connected as the Accursed and the Beloved, a push and pull of the light and the dark, I was connected to innocent people as well. I was connected to every person who lived within my kingdom, whose livelihoods depended on mine. Nereza was greedy, only wanting more power and land. The Supreme had forsaken the Myriad members who had chosen not to serve him with violence, and his hastily patched together army of Folterrans who had been adrift after Declan died were not enough. There was no risk for Nereza and the Supreme. There would be no suffering for their people if they lost.

For the two of them? Suffering would abound when they fell to Vesta. They would suffer as our people had suffered. For each loss, each injury, they would wish they were dead.

But because of that drive, we would prevail. Sheer willpower and four gods’ blessings would be enough—I was sure of it. It was just a matter of how many innocent people would die in the process. I wouldn’t allow myself to contemplate failure. It was not an option.

“You asked for me, Your Majesty?” An older man, slim and with a bend to his spine, approached me. When he bowed, I worried he would tip over.

“Please, call me Emmeline,” I said. “What would you prefer I call you?”

The man pressed his fingertips to his forehead, a centuries old sign of respect. I was surprised to see it. “Jaehren, please. How may I assist?”

I’d requested the most proficient healer living in Astana for this task. Jaehren Martell was an apprentice to King Soren’s healer, and thus was considered a powerful man. He was the most accomplished conduit who agreed to leave their comfortable position in the palace. Hiding away, useless and fearful, the rest of the court consisted of cowards. After this siege was over, Rain and I had quite a bit of work to do when it came to the council and the courtiers. They were rich and comfortable and demanding, and we both had a sour taste every time we’d tried to work with them.

But Jaehren seemed more tolerable than the rest. His clothes were fine, but quite dated, and his demeanor was kind. He wore a wedding band, though his wife and bonded partner had died before I was born. Perhaps he would be easy to work with.

“You have heard of the blight?”

He cursed, scratching at his neck. The sound of his hand rubbing over the recently shaven stubble made me think of my father. Jaehren appeared to be just a little older than the man, though it was likely far more than that considering his dated clothing and gestures.

“An abomination, truly,” he said—gruff and irritated.

I nodded. “It’s spectacularly difficult to root out. I’ve been the only one capable of doing so, but it’s difficult. It takes quite a bit of effort and divinity to use my shadows, light, and healing all at once. I was hoping to find someone who was talented enough to follow after me and heal the wounded as I wrest control of the blight.”

He nodded toward one of the fireplaces which stood at each corner of the massive worship space. The man moved slowly, and his gaze grew distant as we walked away from the bustle of Malva and her other healers setting up our remaining supplies.

“Tell me how it works,” he said, rubbing his hands together in front of the fire. His thin skin likely didn’t hold much heat. I felt bad for not realizing he would be cold sooner.

“I use my gifts from Ciarden to hold the shadows still, and then?—”

“No, tell me how the blight works. I’ve not seen it, but if it’s as difficult as you say, I worry these old hands will not have the precision you require.”

I gave him a tight smile. I was grateful he was even considering helping, but he was right. It wasn’t easy. “It’s less shadow than it is poison, I think. Any visible wound, and she will strike. The shadow enters through the wound, roots around until it finds the veins, and then spreads to the heart. Once there, it seizes the muscles, and they die.”

“How long?”

“By the time they’re brought to the healers’ tent at Wendingtree Park, if they make it there at all, I’d say it’s less than a quarter of an hour before they die.”

“Quick, then.”

“Yes. And even if I root out the blight, it does nothing without healing. It destroys the pathways, and good blood cannot flow unless I fix it.”

“That would be my task?” he asked, pulling out a handkerchief to clean his spectacles. I watched his hands as they cleaned the glass, fixated by the repetitive motion. There was something so simple about the movement, so expected, that it brought me some peace.

“Yes. I use Ciarden’s gift to wrest control of the shadows before using Aonara’s light to burn them out. This damages the veins more, but it’s the only way to get rid of it.”

“So, I need to heal those areas within a breath, but I won’t know exactly where you’re working.”

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