Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (48)

The tower to which Mercy led him reminded him of the towers the Uncrowned King competitors had used in Ninecloud City. It was far from the tallest building in Moongrave, but the spire stood out among its neighbors, and Mercy flew him up to a balcony on the top floor.

Guards on every level, including those hovering over the tower itself, saluted her as she flew up. She didn’t seem to notice.

They arrived in a space that was comfortable but surprisingly cramped. A desk sat against one wall with bookshelves behind it, as well as a tall window looking out over the city. Documents were piled neatly on the surface of the desk, and he could sense the presence of dream tablets in several drawers and boxes.

Mercy shifted nervously as she gave him the very brief tour, describing her usual daily routine. Her madra-gloved hands closed and opened on her staff, and she put more energy into her descriptions than usual.

She was nervous, and Lindon thought he knew why. He expanded his Hollow Domain, which made her pause mid-sentence. Then he tightened his will and made another command.

“Silence.”

It was a strange application of his authority, but he suspected it would work. In combination with his technique, he made the entire office feel like an empty space. A void.

As long as this Domain stayed up, Malice wouldn’t be able to scan them. At least, not without collapsing his boundary field first. Which she could easily do, but not quietly.

Mercy shot him a questioning look, and Lindon realized that his one word could sound like he had been telling her to shut up. “Apologies! I should have warned you, but I’ve made it so your mother can’t hear us.”

Rather than looking relieved, Mercy tightened her grip on the staff. She looked him square in the eyes, then glanced away almost immediately, then returned to him again.

“What are we talking about?” she asked carefully.

Not only did Lindon have to be careful about his oath, but he wondered what Malice had told her. Maybe…maybe Mercy already knew the connection between the Monarchs and the Dreadgods, and she had been silenced just like him.

“Your mother swore me not to speak of certain matters,” he said, and he already felt the oath tightening his throat. “Has she…told you why?”

Mercy’s brow furrowed. “About Eithan?”

Lindon let out a breath. In a way, he was relieved that she didn’t know. Though if she had, it would have made this easier.

“Apologies, but I can’t say any more than that. If she hasn’t told you…” He had to let it hang there. He had thought too hard about dropping her a hint.

Instead, he moved on to his main proposal.

“How do you feel about robbing your mother?” Lindon asked.

Mercy’s purple eyes grew wide.





8





The inside of Redmoon Hall’s cloudship base looked like what Yerin had always pictured of their headquarters. It was a tall, dark space with tanks of blood hanging from the ceiling. The blood was brighter than natural, and radiated much more aura than it should have, so she assumed it came from some blood-aspect sacred beast.

In her soulspace, Little Blue trembled. The Riverseed was wrapped around the clam-shaped dream construct, hugging it to her chest, and the two together filled Yerin’s soulspace with only a little room left over for a hunger spear. Yerin had been surprised to learn that Blue took up so much space. It meant that she had almost as much spiritual weight as an Archlord weapon.

Yerin tried to radiate comfort to Little Blue, but she didn’t have the same connection to the Riverseed that Lindon did. And Yerin’s own stomach was twisting.

From a throne at the end of the hall, the Herald Redmoon looked down on them. At Yerin’s side was the Sage of Red Faith.

The man and his former Blood Shadow glared at each other as though they’d both rather cross swords than words, but Yerin couldn’t decide which of them disgusted her more.

Redmoon was the twisted opposite of Red Faith. Just like Ruby had looked like Yerin’s own reflection in a red-tinted mirror, the two were twins at their core. But the Herald’s hair was bright red, his skin was tinged pink, and his Goldsigns were two streams of white leading down from his eyes instead of scarlet.

Both men ignored her, focused on one another, and chewed on their thumbs with identical expressions.

“Our minimum goal has been met,” the Sage said. “The Phoenix was released, and its power increased thanks to the resonance with Subject One. With the removal of his core binding, Subject One will not reconstitute for years, so he cannot interfere with us. It is safe within acceptable limits to offer our services against the Phoenix.”

The Herald picked up speaking in the same voice, and though they disagreed, to Yerin it sounded like one man arguing to himself. “And how many of us do you imagine will work against the Bleeding Phoenix? We cannot advance our goals without the support of an organization, and to oppose the Phoenix is to bring the end of Redmoon Hall.”

“Then should we seek support from the Bleeding Phoenix?”

“It is intelligent enough now. We should learn its will.”

“I do not worship the Phoenix as your followers do.”

“Many of our Hall are true believers. And who can blame them for worshiping a greater power?”

The Sage of Red Faith sneered. “It is the act of a fool to hang one’s own fate on the mercy of a Dreadgod.”