Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(35)

One of the leading horses suddenly buckled, its hooves slipping off the walkway and into the canal. The horse sputtered and screamed.

Nomi held her breath. Someone jostled her—an older man with heavy jowls and overgrown eyebrows. Asa put a light hand at her elbow, drawing her a step closer to him, away from the man. His voice, when he spoke, had lost its teasing edge. Gently, he said, “The supreme master does, but I fear it will not be the answer you seek.”

Nomi’s stomach twisted. She closed her eyes. “What happened to her?” she whispered, bracing herself.

“She was sent to Mount Ruin,” Asa murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

The words fell like stones against Nomi’s chest, crushing her. Mount Ruin… “For how long?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “No one leaves Mount Ruin.”

Nomi covered her face with her hands as her heart broke open. She couldn’t bear it.

This is my fault.

The cheers of the crowd exploded all around them as the winning horse clattered across the finish line. Nomi opened her eyes to catch a flash of yellow before the rest of the riders thundered past. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, remembering herself. She couldn’t break down here, now, in the center of this maelstrom.

Spectators hung from every doorway and window, waving white towels above the streets. One by one, the towels floated down onto the competitors, who sagged and limped now that the race was over.

Asa’s hand touched her arm again, startling her. “I can try to find out more,” he said quietly. “The conditions, if she’s comfortable… something.”

Nomi’s throat closed. Women were never put to death in Viridia. The harshest punishment was prison, and Mount Ruin was the worst of them all. It was where they sent the murderers, traitors, and thieves.

Serina had only held a book in her hands. How had this happened?

“Do you remember the terrace where we first spoke? Do you think you could find your way back there?” Asa asked, urgency creeping into his voice.

She nodded mutely.

Asa squeezed her arm encouragingly. “Meet me in three days, when the moon is high and everyone is asleep. I should know more by then.”

“Thank you.” The words came out hoarse and strange.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Malachi heading her way, with Cassia and Maris on either side.

Desperately, Nomi tried to calm the emotions playing across her face.

Asa glanced up himself, noticing his brother as well. He shot her a cheeky grin. “I’m off to collect my winnings. The supreme master of all things picked the right horse.”

He disappeared into the crowd just as Malachi and his entourage reached her. “There you are,” the Heir said. “Did you enjoy the race?”

Nomi nodded. “It was even more exciting than I expected, Your Eminence.”

And devastating.

She joined the celebration, a wooden smile fixed to her face, but inside, she was a wasteland, everything burning to ash.





SEVENTEEN



SERINA


ORACLE AND EMBER carried Petrel’s body back to the cave. They placed it with care on an old wooden table with scorched legs that sat in the back corner, away from the sleeping pallets. Two women lit torches near Petrel’s head and feet. Another brought water to wash away the blood.

Serina sat with the others, arms hugging her knees to her chest, and watched. No one talked or readied themselves for sleep, even though it was well past midnight.

Serina’s eyes burned.

Oracle wrapped Petrel in a white sheet, smoothing the threadbare material over the girl’s cheek and down her arm. Ember and two other women approached, and between the four, they raised Petrel’s body onto their shoulders.

Serina joined the procession back out of the cave and into the night. She didn’t know where they were going. She was only aware of the darkness pressing close, Petrel’s white sheet leading the way.

They walked for what felt like hours. At some point, a reddish glow subsumed the light of torches. The path steepened, narrowed. When at last the line of women stopped, dry sulfuric heat pulsed against Serina’s cheeks.

Another caldera extended into the darkness, but this one was alive.

Below them, the skin of the earth had burst, exposing a small pool of lava, bright enough to stain Serina’s vision red.

Oracle’s voice rose into the night. One by one, the other women joined, and a song flowed out above the restless snap and crackle of the lava. Serina didn’t know the words, but the eerie cadence dug inside her chest and soon she was singing too.

Fire, breathe

Water, burn

Terror, wane

Your reign is over.

Fire, breathe

Water, burn

Stars, lead the way

Your sister is here.

With a great cry, Oracle and the other three raised Petrel’s body high above their heads. Then everyone else screamed too, their voices swooping out into the night like a flock of hunting birds. The white sheet glowed red as Petrel’s body dove into the volcano. Sparks flew high, fluttering right up to the stars.

The women stood vigil until the last of the sparks died, and the night was silent again.

Serina swallowed against the grittiness in her throat, sore from yelling. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and her cheeks were wet. She followed the line of women back down the side of Mount Ruin, down into the jungle, but when she reached the entrance to the cave, she kept going, desperate to be alone.