Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(76)

Nothing. Not even a sigh of breath.

“Do you see her?” Trevon whispered. When she didn’t answer, he pushed closer. “Sera!” he gasped out.

“Stay back,” Cettie warned, approaching the body. What was her mother’s plan? Why hadn’t she spoken? Not seeing her made the anticipation so much worse. She was being toyed with. Manipulated.

Some of the children were choking on their gags as they sobbed. She could see the warning in their eyes. The plea for rescue. Her heart broke for them, for the forgotten children. These slaves chained to the wall. It would all be perfectly legal of course—their deeds had been signed away, signed away again and again. Her heart quivered with outrage.

Cettie walked closer to Sera, keeping her movements careful and deliberate. Still, she heard no sign of her mother. Nothing to strip away the advantage of her invisibility.

“Father is dead,” Cettie said, hoping to provoke a sort of reaction. A betrayed gasp. Anything. “Did you know?”

There was no answer. Cettie had reached Sera’s crumpled body. The conflicting magic continued to whirl around her.

“Sera?” Cettie said, crouching down and touching her friend’s arm. She kept her eyes roaming, looking for any sign of a threat.

Sera’s head lifted slightly, some of the dark hair falling away. She’d changed a little since they’d last seen each other. But her face was as familiar to her as . . .

No.

Cettie realized it was wrong. An illusion. It wasn’t Sera on the ground at all.

The Fear Liath roared as the illusion vanished. Sera melted away, replaced by Cettie’s mother. As Lady Corinne’s hand gripped Cettie’s wrist, a rush of magic seized them both and sent them hurtling away.





She’s sleeping in the captain’s room. I must talk to her, but I don’t wish to wake her. She needs the rest. Is this even real, that she’s here? That I’m here on a tempest rushing back to our world? She’s so weary, so broken-hearted and consumed by guilt. I want to know what happened to her. To hear the full truth, no matter how bitter. I need to know if I could trust her again.

I don’t know how to describe my emotions. I’ve never felt so conflicted before. And yet . . . when I look at her face, I still see the young girl Lord Fitzroy brought up from the Fells. And now we’re going back there. Why do we keep coming back to our origins? Why does the past torment us so?

Sleep, Cettie. I will wake you when we reach the prism cloud. For now, I can only wonder what they did to you. These enemies have no mercy, no spark of compassion. You’ve lived among them. How much of them is still a part of you? I wish I knew. I wish it could be different. That we didn’t have to endure so much. If I had been there instead, could I have prevented it? I don’t know what the Knowing wants. Sometimes, I think it asks too much of us.

—Adam Creigh, on the Serpentine





SERA





CHAPTER TWENTY?SEVEN

QUEEN OF THE UNBORN



When the whorl of magic from the Tay al-Ard ended, Sera was left dizzy and anguished. She was still trussed up with strong cords, arms wrenched painfully behind her back. They’d waited in the darkness of the lockroom for a miserable amount of time, the only light the illumination of Christina’s silver eyes. She’d disguised herself as Sera and put a ring on Sera’s hand that had made her invisible—and then jabbed her in the neck with a poisoned ring to make her limbs go slack and her mind fog with a stupor.

Sera had heard Cettie’s voice through that fog. She’d struggled to rouse herself, to scream a warning. But the poison had pinned her limbs in place. She’d simply lain there, limp and passive, as the trap was coiled and sprung.

The dizziness faded, and Sera looked around, trying to determine where the Tay al-Ard had taken them. Her heart sickened with dread. She recognized the stone walls, lit by burning oil torches set in iron rings. Felt the looming danger of the Prison Leering.

Cruix Abbey.

No, Sera thought in dread. She had suspected fate would bring her there. But she wasn’t prepared for it.

She’d thought it would be well protected. She’d tried to ensure it was so.

It wasn’t.

Her worries were distracted by the pain of two bodies crashing against hers. Her legs were crushed. The drug had faded, but not enough that she could even yelp in pain. She heard grunts and gasps and then, in the flickering light, saw Christina and Cettie writhing on the ground next to her, grappling with each other.

The Tay al-Ard went spinning away on the ground, the metal making a scraping noise as it rolled away from the combatants. Light from the torches reflected on its metal surface. If only she could get to it!

Sera’s entire body felt as it were made out of lead, so slowly did it obey her. She bunched up her aching legs and scooted herself across the floor toward the magical device. More cries of pain filled the air as Cettie and Christina grappled. Both were in her peripheral vision, and Sera marveled at Cettie’s skill. Though her friend had always been talented with the Bhikhu style of fighting, this . . . this was unlike anything Sera had witnessed before. Christina was struck in the face, in the neck, only to return the blows.

Sera scooted herself forward again. With her arms behind her back, her wrists throbbing, it would be difficult to grab the Tay al-Ard. But all she needed was to touch it, to grasp it, and it could take her back to Lockhaven. Sweat popped out across her entire body as she strained to move just inches at a time.