Page 62 of Esperance

“You just want me to catalogue them?” Amryn clarified.

Cleric Jane nodded and waved toward a leather bound book on the table. “You can follow the example of the other entries in there. And if you’re not sure how to identify an item, you can just leave it in the box. If you have any other questions, just come to my office.”

After the museum caretaker walked away, Amryn was alone in the museum archive. There were no windows in this part of Esperance, since she was in the heart of the temple, so she relied purely on the lamps around the room and on the table for light.

It was easier than Amryn had thought it would be to start volunteering in Esperance’s museum. A few days after Cora’s funeral, the high cleric had announced over breakfast that from now on, everyone would dedicate time each week to volunteer in some endeavor at Esperance. “It may help you heal during this time of mourning,” the high cleric explained. “Acts of service can be an exceptionally powerful balm.”

Everyone seemed eager—perhaps because the high cleric’s schedule was so regimented, and volunteering meant a break from some other lesson or task Zacharias appointed.

Jayveh elected to spend a few hours a week in the library, which Argent, Samuel, and Sadia all echoed a desire to do. Tam volunteered to work in the gardens, while Marriset offered to help the clerics in their charitable efforts, which included making clothes, blankets, and bandages for their soldiers in Harvari. Darrin and Rivard both volunteered to work in the museum, and Amryn added her interest in working there as well. Luckily, the museum had many wings, including the art gallery, religious artifacts, and other historical objects, so she didn’t think they would actually run into each other. Ivan volunteered to help repair some of the outbuildings within the compound’s walls; Amryn could feel his need to do something physical, and outside the main temple. Carver had volunteered to join him.

Carver had seemed preoccupied lately. They hadn’t spent much time together since that night he’d been unable to sleep, and she’d tried to distract him. That had been nearly two weeks ago.

Saints, she’d been married for one month now.Thatwas a strange thought.

Though isolated in Esperance, time still passed. Nothing new had been learned about Cora’s murder, despite Trevill’s ongoing investigation. The topic of Cora’s death came up in some form nearly every day—often during lunch, which Amryn generally took with the other women in their dedicated sitting room.

“I just don’t feel safe,” Sadia confessed one day. “Even with the increased guards.”

“A guard could have been the one to kill her,” Tam pointed out. “No one else in Esperance is allowed to have weapons.”

“Someone could have smuggled weapons in,” Marriset argued.

Jayveh usually managed to steer the conversation to other things, but the feeling of turbulent unease remained in the room, and Amryn’s own thoughts didn’t help.

She’d nearly written a message for her rebel contact so many times since Cora’s death. But how could she ask a faceless, nameless stranger if the Rising had killed Cora?

Just thinking the words made her doubt her suspicion. Why would the rebels kill Cora? She wasn’t a key player here in Esperance. If they were going to kill someone, it would be Argent or Jayveh.

Or Carver.

She didn’t care to admit how much that thought bothered her. Carver wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t anything more than her husband—a man she hadn’t chosen, and one who was her enemy in nearly every way.

The thought of any death made her feel a little sick; it was part of being an empath. That’s all it was.

Forcing her distracting thoughts aside, Amryn focused on the job at hand. This was her second time volunteering here. The first time she’d reported to the museum caretaker, the female cleric had seemed unsure of what to have her do. She’d settled on having her dust some of the displays, which was not exactly what Amryn had had in mind. But today, the cleric had walked her back to the archives to help with inventorying new items. She needed to do this well so she’d be allowed back, and hopefully—eventually—gain access to the storerooms that housed the seals she needed to copy.

She pulled the ledger closer and followed a wide ribbon that had been laid in the pages as a bookmark, about halfway through the book. Four columns of various widths were on the page, and clearly labeled at the top: date of entry, description of item, kingdom of origin, and initials of the one who made the notations.

Scanning the last page, she saw that it had been months since the last entry, and that in the description of the item—in this case, a marble bust of an old king in Palar—the condition of the item was also noted:Missing part of the nose, and clearly suffering damage from being left too long in the harsh sea air.

The crate the female cleric had brought out was large and inscribed with the words:From Daersen; donated from Murdon Savin’s private collection at the time of his death.

A peek into the crate showed the items were eclectic. Velvet boxes of various sizes, weathered books with broken spines, miniature paintings, and what looked to be part of a granite hand were just some of the things Amryn spotted.

She lifted one of the top velvet boxes, which easily fit in the palm of her hand, and pried open the lid—and instantly dropped it.

It hit the table with a dullsmack, and the iron ring nestled in the satin bed of the box stared up at her.

It was decorated with scrollwork and other embellishments, but nothing could disguise the horrific centerpiece. At the top of the ring, the metal flattened, giving a foundation to a crystalized dome. Inside the dome, a fragment of human bone was trapped.

Amryn’s heart thudded as she stared at the ugly ring. She’d only seen one once before—on the hand that had killed her mother.

Well,oneof the hands.

They were worn by the Knights of the Church; men and women who were specifically trained to hunt empaths, among other things. Some whispered the piece of bone they all wore in their rings—which was the bone of an empath—helped guide them to other empaths. Bone seeking bone; like seeking like. Amryn didn’t know if she believed in the superstition, but it certainly revealed their viciousness and cruelty.

Inside the lid of the box was inscribed:

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