Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(38)

“Where’s Cettie?” Sera asked.

Joanna gave her a long, probing look. “She’s on her way back to Lockhaven as we speak. She’s a hetaera now. And a poisoner. She will become you.”

Sera closed her eyes. Not her friend. Not her confidante.

“We’ve been preparing her for a long time. It was all so innocent at first. She didn’t know that by befriending you, she was helping us overthrow the empire.”

“Is Trevon alive, then? Is he part of this too somehow?” She wished she could punch Joanna in the mouth. Her earlier feelings of helplessness had returned. She was trapped once again. Deceived and betrayed.

Joanna smiled knowingly. “He plays a part in this, yes. We need him alive for now. Just as you are needed for the illusion to be perfect.”





I have been developing my map of the disease. I’ve hand-drawn a map of the streets around Killingworth Hospital. I’ve walked these streets a hundred times and so their names are familiar. Some streets are straight, others crooked. Each building is a square or rectangle on my map. Within each of these, I have tallied the number of victims whose lives have been claimed by the cholera morbus. There are lines in factories too, but I’ve noted that most of the tally marks are in the tenements and houses.

What am I missing? There seems to be an unusual grouping of tally marks on Marshall Street. Is there something about it that causes so much death? I can’t say how many times I have walked down this street. Seen the women scrubbing clothes in the fountain Leerings. Watched the pigeons strut along the rooftops. Listened to the clack of carriage wheels on the cobblestones. Marshall Street is four blocks away from Killingworth Hospital. I go there every day, knocking on door after door, asking how many have died. How many are sick. Another scratch. Another tally.

And the sun goes down once again.

—Adam Creigh, Killingworth Hospital





CETTIE





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE GROVE



The jostle of the carriage wheels on a patch of uneven ground roused Cettie from her slumber. The noise of the hooves and the rhythm of the wheels had made it easy to nod off. The boy sat next to her, staring out the window, a peaceful look on his face. Across from her sat the man who had rescued her from the Hotel Vecchio in Pree. After they’d put enough distance between themselves and the hotel, he’d freed her from the chest, leaving her unharmed but for a sore neck.

She felt a weight on her lap and noticed someone had set the scabbard with the raven sigil across her lap. Once again, she noticed the subtle melody it exuded. It radiated magic. She lowered her hand to the smooth leather scabbard and felt her skin tingle.

Cettie became aware that she’d been relieved of the aches and bruises from her fight with Will. She rubbed along her forearm. No pain, not even a little spot.

Her eyes lifted and met Owen’s. He was smiling knowingly at her.

“What have you done?” she asked him. It was as if she’d been healed with Everoot.

“I found that scabbard when I was younger. It has certain powers. I thought they might be useful while you slept.”

Cettie rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t be. You’ve missed some excellent scenery, but that is all. We’re approaching Brythonica. We’ll be there by nightfall.”

“I wish I hadn’t,” Cettie said. “I would like to know more about you. You’ve been very kind to me.”

Owen shrugged. “There’s too much to tell.” He folded his arms. “The story would fill a book. But now isn’t the right time. Are you nervous about returning home?”

Home. The word brought a pang of guilt. She didn’t deserve to go home.

Cettie looked down. “I think so, yes,” she stammered. “I wonder what will happen. I’ve disappointed so many people. I . . . I wasn’t always like this. I was deceived. Led down a dark path.”

Owen said nothing, just looked at her with sympathy.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have left like I did. I’m afraid of what will happen to my friends. The people who trained me threatened to kill them.”

“I imagine they did.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “There is no greater fear than that of suspense. Your mind begins to imagine the worst.”

“It’s true,” Cettie said. “But I’ve seen some of the worst. It’s not an idle threat. My return will lead to many troubles.”

“So what if it does? You’ll face them.”

Cettie sighed and nodded. If she could do something to help Sera, the empire, then it was worth the risk of being executed by her own people. In any case, she couldn’t predict the future. She wasn’t a harbinger anymore. The last vision she’d had was the one of the attack on Fitzroy—the one that had set her down this path.

The carriage began to slow, and there was a thump from the driver’s seat.

Owen slid across the seat to open the window. “What is it?”

“Road blocked ahead, sir,” shouted the driver from above. “Soldiers.”

“Whose?”

“Occitanian.”

“Is everything all right, Papa?” Curtis asked. His brow wrinkled.

“It will be fine,” Owen said comfortingly. The carriage continued to slow.