Page 76 of House of Dusk
And yet Sephre had not shared any of this with her. She’d told herself she was being cautious. That Beroe’s ambition made her untrustworthy. It might even be true. Beroe might scoff at her concerns, do nothing. Or turn on her. Call her traitor, summon Lacheron’s soldiers to cast her in chains.
Or she might listen. She might be an ally. She might keep Halimede’s oath, and send Lacheron away empty-handed.
Sephre paused at the top of the steps, letting her breathing slow. Her heartbeat was a lost cause, still rattling as she finally rapped at the door. “Beroe? It’s Sephre.”
“Come in.” There was a sigh in the words.
Sephre pushed the door open to find Beroe at the agia’s desk. A stack of wax tablets teetered before her. A half-drunk cup of tea abandoned near her elbow. The spill of golden light from the nearby lamp traced deep shadows under her eyes. She looked pale and tired and worn.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Sephre offered.
“It’s fine. The numbers aren’t going anywhere. Unfortunately. Sometimes I think I’d far rather wage battle with a host of skotoi than with the temple ledgers.” Beroe gave a weary laugh, then seemed to remember who Sephre was, her brow furrowing. She took a deep breath, as if to brace herself for something unpleasant. “How can I help you, sister?”
Sephre swallowed the sting of that breath. She couldn’t blame Beroe. They had been prickly as cats together ever since Sephre had come to Stara Bron.Because she’s an ambitious, headstrong fool,whispered a petty voice at the back of her skull.Just like you were, Sephre whispered back. This time, she forced herself not to squirm away from the truth. Beroe raised Sephre’s hackles because she reminded her of herself.
She could do better. She, whoknewwhat it felt like to have Lacheron’s fingers twitching at you, plucking out the tune he wanted. But instead of reaching out, instead of trying to help, Sephre had written the woman off. Measured her by all her worst aspects, and ignored the good.
“The temple is lucky to have you,” Sephre said, partly because it was true, and partly in the hopes of softening that suspicious frown. “I can’t imagine how much work it must be, managing Stara Bron.”
Beroe’s brows arched, and for a moment she looked pleased. Then her gaze narrowed again. “Thank you. Though I’m sure it’s nothing to commanding an entire wing of soldiers.”
“I’m serious, Beroe. No one else could do what you’re doing right now, especially not me.”
Beroe studied her a moment longer. “You didn’t climb halfway up the mountain just to compliment me. What do you want?”
Now it was Sephre’s turn to draw a steadying breath. She hadn’t planned the words. Better to speak plainly. She wasn’t Lacheron. She didn’t want to pluck strings and poke wounds. She just wanted Beroe to believe her.
“I need to tell you something,” she began. “We’ve had our differences, but I know that you care about Stara Bron. About the vows we swore. That you would fight to the last against any skotoi that dared enter this world.”
“I would.” Beroe’s shoulders relaxed slightly. She was wary, but curious.
“Before she sent me to Potedia, Agia Halimede told me about a vow she swore to the agia before her.”
“What vow?”
No going back now. “To keep Letheko hidden at Stara Bron, and make sure the Ember King never used it again. Because doing so would cause a second cataclysm.”
Beroe stared. Blinked. Then carefully folded her hands together in front of her. “So the dagger is here at Stara Bron? You know where it is?”
The words were flat, colorless.
“Yes,” admitted Sephre.
“But you’re not going to tell me,” Beroe added. “Because you think I’ll give it to Hierax.”
“He would be a powerful ally for Stara Bron.” Sephre gestured to the wax tablets. “Make all those accounts a lot easier to manage.”
“I don’t care about the accounts,” said Beroe. “I care about keeping my vow to the Phoenix. I care about guarding this world from the demons of the labyrinth. I care about stopping a second cataclysm.”
“Then we can’t let Hierax claim the dagger. I don’t know the full truth, but I’ve learned enough to know that something’s not right. The Ember King wasn’t the hero we think he was. The Faithful Maiden herself brought the dagger here and swore Agia Cerydon to keep it safe. And every agia after them has kept that oath.”
Beroe’s fingers knitted tighter. “And why, exactly, did Halimede share all this withyou?”
“Because she knew how I felt about Hierax.”
“You could be lying. You could be inventing all of this.”
Sephre blew out a breath of frustration. “Here.” She drew the codex from where she’d tucked it in her sleeve, then set it on the desk between them. “I found this in the archives. I think it was written by the Faithful Maiden, before she took the Embrace.”
