Page 45 of A Court of Masks and Roses
A wave of uncertainty twisted Violet’s heart. “Am I not welcome today?” she asked, retreating a step. When Zalia had presented her with a copy of the Revelations Room key last week, she’d assumed no further invitation was needed.
Joshua’s face softened. “Of course you are welcome, Violet. Just unexpected.”
“Do you wish me to leave?” Violet asked.
Her face must have betrayed her fear, because Joshua strode to her, taking both her hands in his. “Only if you don’t wish to stay,” he said, looking into her eyes. “It will be hard work today. A soldier’s work. Do you think you are ready?”
She nodded quickly. It hurt that he doubted her to begin with, but perhaps this was a test the Goddess was laying before her.
“Very well.” Joshua squeezed her hands. “You will work with Zalia and Dasha in Intake Three. We’ve more patients than teams today, and an extra set of hands will be welcome. Vas will take you.”
At the sound of his name, a boy separated from one of the groups and motioned for Violet to follow. Vas was reed-thin, with blotchy red skin and a too-big nose that dominated his face. He chewed his thumbnail as he walked. “Have you been beyond the arch before?”
“I don’t even know what the arch is,” said Violet.
Vas pointed his chin forward, to where a yellow-orange light beckoned from the end of a descending passage. Walking closer, Violet gasped. An arch of living crystals, pulsating with brilliant colors, stood right in the Order’s own temple. A breeze kissed her cheek, the ribbons on her dress ruffling topoint toward the arch like little flags. And... “Is that music?” she asked Vas, tilting her ear toward the arch.
Vas nodded. “Memory crystals. If they go out of tune, they start memorizing whatever pleases them, random bits of conversations included. It’s a pain to keep up, but tuning the arch is part of the treatment program for the acolytes—the patients on the mend.”
“How does it help them?” Violet asked, her heart singing with the majesty of the crystals.
“Tuning the arch provides a means for the acolytes to pay their tithe.” Vas nudged Violet into a walk. “The Goddess’s magic is meant for her Children, not for heretics. The more the acolytes contribute to the Messenger’s battle, the cleaner their souls become.”
Violet nodded. It made sense. Living crystals, like the memory crystal Joshua had entrusted her with, weren’t evil in and of themselves. The question was whether their magic was used in accordance with the Goddess’s will, or for selfish, personal gain.
Stopping beside a wooden door, Vas knocked a pattern on the frame. A moment later, Zalia stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. The girl looked grave, her hair tied back with a handkerchief the way a peasant might wear one. Violet’s heart quickened.
“Vas?” Zalia asked in confusion. “Why is Violet here?”
“Brother Joshua said to bring her to you,” Vas said. “With a hundred acolytes to intake, he said we could use the help.”
Zalia’s face melted and she took both of Violet’s hands in hers. “Of course. Hello, sister.”
Sister.Yes. A knot loosened in Violet’s chest as she squeezed Zalia’s hands in return. “What would you have me do?” she whispered.
“It’s difficult work, but if Brother Joshua thinks you areready, then you must be,” Zalia said solemnly. “Today, the Holy Guard brought us one hundred gravely ill patients to cure—whisperers corrupted by the Dark God’s taint. Dansil’s rural temples are able to gather them, you see, but the temples lack the resources to treat them. So the poor souls have to be moved en masse here.” She sighed, rubbing her face. “We expected them yesterday and it’s a scramble down here.”
That knot in Violet’s chest tightened again. For all the talk of curing the whisperers, no one had truly explained to her how this was to be done. She opened her mouth to ask, but altered the question at the last moment. “Won’t our harboring whisperers upset the Goddess?”
“Not at all. We do this at the Messenger’s command, you see. The Goddess asked us to bring her wayward Children back into the fold. So long as we follow the Goddess’s will, she will not punish us.” Zalia’s hand gripped the door handle, her eyes on Violet. “Brace yourself, sister. The Dark God little likes surrendering his subjects, but we fight for the acolytes’ souls, as we must.”
The room was freezing. Stone walls, stone floors. A reek of pain and terror. A single chair bolted to the floor. And on that chair...
Violet’s breath caught, bile stinging her throat.
“Violet, this is Eris,” Zalia said, gesturing to a gagged boy who struggled like a trapped animal against the metal shackles cutting into his wrists. The whites of his frightened eyes shone in the green light of the living stones that illuminated the cell. What little he had of clothes were drenched in water, which dripped to the floor and escaped into a drain.
Dasha, who was also in the room, stepped aside.
Eris’s gaze found Violet’s, the plea in it so potent that her knees weakened.
“Eris has served the Dark God for sixteen years,” Zaliaexplained as Violet continued staring at the boy. “His family tried hiding him, but the Goddess found Eris and brought him here to be turned from a sinner into an acolyte. It is our duty to let Eris pay the tithe for his sins, so his soul will one day be welcomed by the Goddess and her light.”
Violet’s heart pounded. Eris was Wil’s age. He was terrified and shivering, his breath misting in the cold.
“You must be strong, Violet,” Zalia told her. “A soldier.”
Yes. A soldier. Violet swallowed. She was a soldier of the Goddess, and she was ready to stand her first trial.
