Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(115)
We abandon the carriage and split up on two horses to get to the pass. The road is steep and dusty, with narrow footpaths that could mean our death if our horses get scared. The mountains have a way of making you feel turned around. Sprawling gray rock looks the same everywhere. I hold Sayida around the waist the entire time, closing my eyes against the flashes of Méndez’s mind.
Castian and the king screaming in the middle of court.
Alessandro knocking over a tray of knives in a gray room.
Myself as a young girl.
When we make it, I could kiss the ground. The San Cristóbal cloisters are nestled at the center of a small valley, fully intact because of its location. Square sandstones with intricate circles, pillars with angels guarding the entrance. The entire western wall is dilapidated, but the rest of the building is fully functional.
Birds flutter from treetops and the wild green grass on the main lawn is absent of the usual groups studying, sparring, or playing the occasional game. We canter through the main archway and stop at a water fountain filled with murky rainwater.
This is the place I called home for the majority of my life, but as I stand here, coming back to what should be my safe haven, I’m suddenly filled with doubt.
The four of us linger a brief moment. I don’t know how, but I can sense that we’re thinking about Dez. He’s a missing limb, a spirit haunting us all.
We unsaddle our horses, and Margo and Esteban lead the way, but I hesitate, immobilized by nerves. Sayida stays by my side, concern clear in her expression.
“The elders aren’t going to listen to me,” I tell her.
“I will support you,” she says. “Swear it.”
I squeeze her shoulder gently, thinking back to all the times she tried to provide comfort, and I brushed it away. This is my second chance with the Whispers. I’ll do it differently this time, if they allow it.
With a deep breath, I follow the same path Margo and Esteban took. As we walk, I have that sense of remembrance. I am walking in the place I’ve called home for years but in the skin of another. It is like looking at these walls, the windows, all of it for the first and last time.
We march down an open corridor with chipped gray stone archways. My ears echo with the memory of my first meeting with the king.
We enter through a set of double doors, different from the ones of the throne room at the palace, but I can’t shake the irony that I’m once again standing before an entryway, preparing to convince a leader of my worth.
Margo leads us into the council’s hall, where they’re already gathered. There are only five council members present out of the usual eight. I wonder if the others are dead or simply in hiding. My presence is greeted with cold reservation. I push back my shoulders with false confidence.
Truth be told, there is only one face I’m nervous about seeing. Illan’s. My boot steps echo in the halls as the old man watches me approach from the center of the long table. He’s in his familiar dark tunic and trousers, gripping his silver fox-head cane with a wrinkled hand. The lines around his eyes are far more pronounced. He is more ravaged by sorrow than by time. I take a deep breath.
“Illan, I’ve returned from the Palace of Andalucía.”
“Back from your rebellion, or your betrayal?”
I flinch at the words. If he knew the whole truth, what I did to Dez by taking his memories in his sleep, would I even be allowed to set foot in this room?
“I went there for revenge and learned many things that I think will be useful to our cause, but the most important thing is a warning. I do not believe we’re safe here anymore.”
“Why not?” Elder Octavio, with his nearly blind eyes and wrinkled brown face, turns to me.
“Because I have turned Justice Méndez into a Hollow. I have seen his mind. He knows about the passage into the mountains.”
There’s a rumbling among the elders.
Margo steps forward, and they quiet. “We all heard him say it, and Renata saw it when she took his memories.”
“I’ve seen the weapon. I know where to find it. We need to move out now. This minute.”
“And leave the safety of the cloisters?” Octavio asks, incredulously.
Margo clears her throat. “Someone betrayed us. They told the justice about the hidden pass. The king’s guard is coming for us.”
“But you said Méndez is dead,” Illan says, though his voice is distant.
“He’s one of hundreds of judges,” I say, frustrated. They aren’t listening.
“There’s a new safe house where we can take refuge. We can’t stay here,” Margo says.
It’s a strange feeling being on the same side of an argument as her, but I am thankful for it.
“Tell us everything,” Illan says. “From the beginning.”
“There is no time,” I say.
“How can you ask us to trust you if we do not know everything you have done?” Filipa asks.
When I glance around, there are rebel Moria gathered all around the walls and on the second floor of the hall, leaning over the wooden banister. Sayida stands close behind me, keeping her promise, but Margo and Esteban flank the rectangular table of the Whispers council. Daylight beams through the circular window facing me, and I realize I am not pleading for a mission. I am pleading my case at my trial.