Page 5 of A Court of Truth and Thorns
Do your duty and leave others to theirs.
Ask Brother Joshua.
Each time Violet finished a task, a new one was thrust upon her. She supervised acolytes tuning small light crystals for sale; she packaged wilting carnations into bunches; she tallied the coin the fundraising teams had gathered. All important work, but none carried the urgency it was assigned. Or warranted sisters delivering food to Violet so as “not to disrupt your task with needless treks to the canteen.”
Finishing filling the last of the empty baskets with an assortment of goods for the fundraisers to take into the fieldfor sale the following day, Violet slid down the wall of the well-lit cellar until she was squatting on the ground. Her hands ached. Her eyelids drooped. And her stomach churned with a hated, too-familiar feeling of being disregarded as a bit of ornamentation.
Which was ridiculous. Each sister and brother who came with new assignments or sustenance spoke of Violet’s work as vital to the Messenger and the Goddess. In the palace of her birth father, Violet had been needed for nothing. In the Order, she was crucial to every menial task. Especially today. Whatever today was.
They insisted there was nothing happening. Or at least nothing that Violet needed to know just then. The unease tying her insides into knots was fatigue, and the Dark God was using her weakness as a vessel for poison and doubt. Violet needed to return to the dormitory for a few hours of sleep, but despite the seemingly endless series of tasks, the call to evening assembly and prayer was yet to sound. She would not disgrace herself by sleeping while others worked, but perhaps a short rest away from watchful eyes would be forgiven. Getting out of the cellar before anyone arrived with a new task was simple expedience, not insolence.
At least, that’s what Wil would say.
A pang of longing for her birth brother tightened Violet’s chest.The Dark God works through the ones we love, she reminded herself firmly. That the thought had wormed its way so deeply into her mind was certainly the Dark God’s work. Violet needed rest.
Holding her breath—which was ridiculous because she was doing nothing wrong—Violet rose and pushed open the door.
It failed to budge.
She frowned and pushed the door again, rattling it againstthe engaged lock. Brilliant. Zalia, who was the last to see Violet, must have locked it on reflex. With valuables inside, the cellar had to be kept under lock and key lest the Dark God tempted a weakened soul to take the Goddess’s things. Luckily, growing up with Wil had its unusual advantages, one of them being a solid education in beating locks.
A quarter hour of work later, Violet stepped out of the cellar and walked down the corridor of nearby intake rooms. Glancing through the slits, she found a room with an unoccupied patient chair and slipped inside the dank space. The darkness and discomfort were a fitting tithe for shirking work, and Violet immediately felt better about her deviance. She sat on the cold floor, resting her forehead on her knees while her eyes filled to the brim with warm tears that streamed silently down her face.
Something was happening. Violetknewit, just as sheknewshe was being kept ignorant by design. After fourteen years of not mattering in her birth home, she knew the signs. Zalia hadn’t accidentally locked her inside the storeroom. She’d done it because the True Family didn’t trust Violet the way they trusted others. Her royal birth made her different. It had always made her different.
“What’s your name?” The thin voice sounding from a dark corner of the intake room startled a scream from Violet. “It’s all right,” the voice said quickly. “I won’t hurt you.”
Stars. The room hadn’t been empty after all. Whoever left a patient here unattended and unrestrained was in for a world of trouble. Violet’s heart sped, shaking off her fatigue. This was the Goddess’s doing, leading Violet to this room just now. She took a calming breath. The smart thing to do would be to sound an alarm, get a full intake team here to deal with the girl in the darkness. But the Goddess had guided Violet here alone. It was a codex. A test. A way for Violet to proveboth her trustworthiness and her skill by turning a patient into an acolyte by herself. With no tools but her voice and faith.
“I’m Violet,” she said slowly. “I won’t hurt you either. I want to help. What’s your name?”
“Princess Violet?” The girl’s voice sounded almost relieved. “I’m Leaf.” She hesitated, then stepped out of the shadows in the corner. Despite being older than Violet, closer to nineteen or twenty, Leaf was small and fragile in stature. She wore a servant’s dress, ripped and stained now—recent rips and stains, given the healthy state of the intact fabric. Leaf smiled kindly at Violet, putting forth a brave front in spite of the fear rolling off her in waves. “Do you know where we are?”
“In the Goddess’s temple.” Violet scrambled to recall how Zalia and Dasha had welcomed her into the True Family when she’d known nothing of the world. No brilliant words came to mind, so Violet went directly to the simple truth. “Two decades ago, the Goddess told the Messenger her plan to save us from the Dark God when the final battle comes. He’s been working for our salvation ever since. Those of us here, the Children of the Goddess, are his soldiers, and these are our barracks.”
The girl’s face drained of blood. “You are one of them,” she whispered, moving along the cell wall.
Violet’s breath hitched in her chest but eased quickly as she realized that Leaf was moving away from her, not toward her. Moving oddly, too. Violet dropped her gaze to the floor just as Leaf gasped, stumbling against the wall on what looked like a twisted foot. No, Leaf posed no physical threat to Violet. The bum leg likewise explained why the girl hadn’t tried to leave the cell despite the lack of restraints.
Violet held out her hand, palm up. “There is no need to be frightened,” she said softly, as if talking to a wounded animal. “We want to make the world a place where love rules, not violence.”
“I was seized in the palace by the Holy Guard,” said Leaf. “They asked each servant whether he or she wished to join the Order. Those who said no were beaten. Since they found me with a healing stone, they forced me here with the other whisperers. No one bothered asking whether I wished to join or not.”
Violet’s mouth dried. “The whisperers will be made acolytes,” she said on reflex, her mind still processing the girl’s claim of a palace assault. “They will have the chance to pay a tithe for their sins so that the Goddess can welcome them.”
“Bahir’s guards beat innocent people.” Leaf’s thin voice had fight. “When I was led here, we passed through the battle in the main courtyard. My escort was so frustrated to be missing the action that he separated from the convoy long enough to throw a knife into the Everett princess’s face while she was trying to flee. There was a great deal of blood for a group that wants love to rule, not violence.”
Violet’s skin flushed. She lacked the facts for this conversation and felt it failing further with each word. Leaf was wrong. Whatever was happening aboveground, she’d misinterpreted the events. The Messenger had everything under control. His work was an instrument for everyone’s good. “There is a good reason for what you think you saw, Leaf. I don’t know what the reason is just now, but I know it’s there. I’ll find out for you, all right?” This was not how intake was supposed to go, but Violet’s head was spinning more with each breath. “The Dark God is very devious, and it’s up to us to evict him from our hearts.”
“Yes, of course,” Leaf said, her voice dulling. “You are right. It’s all for the best.”
Before Violet could help herself, the question she’d foughtso hard to ignore bubbled from her mouth. “Did you see King Firehorn or Prince William?”
“I’ve not seen your brother,” Leaf said, settling herself into a corner as far from Violet as she could manage. “But the king’s head sits on a flagpole in the palace courtyard.”
4
KALI
