Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(41)

Of understanding.

Of asking forgiveness.

Of accepting their lies.

Twenty-seven councilors listened to my words, and because I was the Hopebearer and I’d always done as they asked before, they believed me now.

Or so I’d thought.

I TOOK A copy of the shipping order to High Priest Valko in the Temple of Damyan and Darina.

The temple had always been a strange mix of safety and expectation, with its soaring arches, elaborate friezes, and delicate limestone columns. Embedded noorestones gleamed from around the windows, and from silver chandeliers, and from the base of the immense statues of Darina and Damyan at the front of the room.

The Lovers’ sandstone embrace would draw the eye even without the mirror-focused noorestone light to highlight the exquisite details. Sheer clothing rippled across skin, strands of tightly curled hair played in the wind, and even eyelashes fanned against full cheeks. This statue, carved by one of the First Masters, was one of our island’s greatest treasures.

“Mira.” High Priest Valko met me in the center aisle.

“Can we speak in your office?” I glanced over my shoulder, toward the daylight pouring through the thrown-open doors. No one had followed me—they had no reason to doubt my apology was anything but sincere—but this was not the sort of thing I could discuss in front of the dozen people who’d come here to pray or enjoy the art.

“Of course.” The high priest motioned for me to join him, but we made it only three steps before Luminary Guards strode into the temple, with Elbena leading the way.

With one look, I could tell she knew that I’d meant to share the shipping order with High Priest Valko. That I’d meant to destroy the Luminary Council by pitting the gods’ voice against them. That I’d meant to tell the world that the Luminary Council didn’t care that our dragons were being shipped to the Algotti Empire.

She knew my apology had been a lie.

“Don’t make a scene, Mira. Just come with me.”

And until the Luminary Guards deposited me in a holding cell, I hadn’t even realized that was the moment of my arrest.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN




“WHO IS SENDING THE DRAGONS?” ALTAN ASKED.

“I’m not sure.” It was the truth, and I prayed he could hear it in my trembling voice. Guilt worked its way through me. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have been braver. Stronger. But I was a coward who didn’t want to be alone for a few days.

Altan blew out a long breath. “You saw shipping orders.”

I nodded. “I saw shipping orders.”

“And the Luminary Council was so upset that they sent you—their precious Mira Minkoba—here. To the Pit. The most notorious prison in the Fallen Isles.” He cocked his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t they just lie to you about the shipping orders? A girl like you would have believed them.”

“They tried,” I whispered.

“What then?” An amused turn of his mouth suggested he thought I was a fool.

He wasn’t wrong.

Altan’s smile grew wider. “Tell me everything the shipping orders said.”

“I can’t.”

“You didn’t just happen upon shipping orders and not bother to read them carefully. Someone who’s been given special permission to train a Drakontos raptus at the Crescent Prominence sanctuary would have read that a hundred times.”

“I don’t remember what it said.”

Altan planted one hand on the side of my bed and leaned, blocking the light of the noorestone next to me. He was huge. Overbearing. His dark eyes drilled into mine, searching for the truth. “You might think I can’t tell when you’re lying, but I can tell when anyone is lying. And you’re not very good at it to begin with.”

My breath turned shallow, frantic, desperate. “I don’t remember.”

His smirk fell and he leaned farther toward me, keeping his voice low but razor sharp. “Do not play the fool with me, or there will be very real consequences.”

Numbness pushed through me. Gone was his joking manner, and the gleam in his eyes like we shared a secret. This was real. As real as the minutes before he took me inside the empty cellblock and locked me away.

The danger was far from over.

“I need a map,” I said as a dull throb began in my temples.

He sent for one immediately. Several minutes later, two trainees arrived with an enormous map of the Fallen Isles framed in mahogany. They propped it up on the end of my bed, barely giving me time to move my feet out of the way.

“Tell me what I want to know,” Altan said when they were gone.

I tried not to glance at the waiting tray of food, but the hunger was overpowering.

“Where are the dragons?” Altan deepened his voice. “You can eat after we’re done.”

My stomach knotted. As much as I wanted to eat, and to not be put in a dark cell somewhere isolated, this was wrong. I knew it.

But I scooted toward the map and pressed my mouth into a line.

The six—or seven, depending how you thought of Damyan and Darina—islands were drawn in faded black ink on the age-darkened paper. It was soft, like cloth, and bordered with tiny drawings of dragons of every kind. Drakontos rex, Drakontos titanus . . . I wanted to look at them all, but Altan cleared his throat.