“He’s not here,” Hector replied tersely. “I told you.”
Ephyra swallowed.
“I’ve been looking for you for a long time,” Hector went on. “Long enough to know how many lives you’ve taken since you killed my family. How many people you’ve left your mark on.”
“Then you know none of those people were innocent,” Ephyra said, her voice shaking. “I only kill those who deserve it. Those who are cruel, who use their power to hurt others.”
“Ah, yes. The Pale Hand only kills the wicked. How strange that that didn’t seem to matter when you took my family’s lives. They were innocent, but that didn’t stop you from killing them. Do you even remember them?”
Forcing her eyes to meet his, she whispered, “Yes.”
His mouth curled into a snarl. “My mother. My father. My brother. They took you in, showed you kindness. And you murdered them.”
“I didn’t—” She stopped. Nothing she could say would change what she had done, and if she could go back and choose again, she knew she would still choose Beru. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t believe that,” Hector said. “You take lives because you can. You think you are a god. But you’re not. Who are you to decide who lives and who dies? How does a monster know who is and is not her own kind?”
Ephyra sucked in a panicked breath as Hector’s expression shifted back to that pinned, flat look. The one that chilled her more than explosive anger ever could.
“You know, I used to wonder why I didn’t die, too. Why was I spared?” Hector asked. “After five long years, I finally know the answer. I survived because I’m supposed to stop you. Everything in my life has led to this moment. Fate has decided my purpose for me. To make sure the Pale Hand never reaches for another life again.”
Ephyra pressed herself back against the wall, ignoring the bite of the chains straining on her wrists.
Hector’s hand tightened over the hilt of his sword, his eyes wild. She could almost see the thoughts racing through his mind. He could cut her down right here, right now. He could spill her blood in this cell and put an end to the Pale Hand.
“You’ve never killed anyone before, have you?” Ephyra asked softly. “It’s easier than you’d think. Harder, too. Or maybe that’s just me.”
“I’m not going to kill you.”
Ephyra let out a breath, but his tone kept her from relief.
“Not yet,” he said. “First, I’m going to show everyone what you are. I’m going to prove to the world that you are the Pale Hand.”
“Prove it?” Ephyra asked. “How are you going to do that?”
“You’re going to tell them,” Hector said. “The Sentry. The Order of the Last Light. The world will know exactly what you are.”
“I won’t admit anything.”
Hector’s eyes narrowed. He was silent for a long moment. Then quietly, he said, “You have a sister. I remember her.”
Ephyra stiffened and then tried to smooth her expression. “I haven’t seen my sister in years.”
“You’re lying,” Hector said at once. “You would never leave her. She’s somewhere in this city, too.”
Ephyra took a deep breath, regrouping. She couldn’t let him see how scared she was. This was the one thing that could undo her. Hector could threaten Ephyra’s life all he wanted, but Beru—
He couldn’t touch her.
“She’s innocent,” Ephyra said. “Like your family was. Would you really threaten an innocent life?”
Something flashed through Hector’s eyes. Maybe she had finally broken through the haze of grief and anger for a moment. Maybe she could get him to look at what he was doing and realize he’d gone too far.
“I hope it won’t come to that,” he said at last. “This is bigger than one life. If you refuse to admit to the world what you are, then whatever happens is on your conscience.”
Ephyra would give up her own life if it came to that. But if Hector got to Beru, if he found out that Ephyra had killed all those people for her, that his family had died because of her …
She could see the chasm of his grief, and knew what pain like that could make you do.
“You won’t find her,” she said in a low, snarling voice. “You can search the whole city.”
Hector’s gaze was dark and furious. “Then I’ll search the whole city,” he answered. “And I know exactly where to start.”
25
ANTON
Anton’s cell was unbearably cold. The kind of cold that made his bones brittle and his joints ache, that left a chill in his spine like someone had hollowed out the warm blood and flesh. The kind of cold he hadn’t felt since he’d lived on the streets. The kind of cold that drove men to desperation in search of a way to escape its cruel fingers.
He had to get out of here. Illya was still out there, and now he knew exactly where Anton was. He would find a way to come for him. But his brother wasn’t the only thing Anton was worried about. During the long stretch of hours when Anton had been locked in here, he’d felt the thundering esha again. The same one he’d felt at the harbor, drowning out the low buzz of all others, as powerful and unyielding as a storm on the horizon.
It made him feel more trapped than the walls of his cell—though whether he wanted to flee from the esha or run to it, he still didn’t know. He just knew he had to get out. They couldn’t keep him here forever. He hadn’t actually done anything wrong. They would realize that eventually, and then they would let him go. And Anton would run again. Run fast, run far. It had been a mistake to imagine he could ever do anything else.
Footsteps outside his cell signaled another guard change. Except, Anton realized with a jolt, the guards had just changed, not an hour ago.
The cell door burst open, and Anton pressed himself back, certain that he was once again about to see the face that haunted his dreams.
But instead of his brother, a swordsman towered in the doorway. His esha hit Anton like the scrape of hard rock against steel. He didn’t look like the other guards who had come to question him. This man, with burning coal-dark eyes, looked like he had come for blood.
Anton supposed this should scare him. It did, but his fear was matched by relief. Because no matter who this swordsman was, no matter what he wanted, he wasn’t Illya.
“Hello,” Anton said pleasantly, peeling himself from the wall.
The swordsman stepped inside, boots thudding against the cell floor.
“I already told the Sentry I wasn’t trying to rob that temple,” Anton said. “So if you’re here to—”
“Stop,” the swordsman said gruffly. “I’m not here on behalf of the Sentry.”
This, Anton had guessed.
“My name is Hector Navarro. I’ve been searching for the Pale Hand for a very long time.”
“The what?” Anton asked, affecting as much guileless innocence as he could muster. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Do not lie to me,” Navarro said. “The Paladin of the Order of the Last Light are trained in many powerful techniques of the Grace of Heart. Our senses are heightened beyond any other Graced swordsmen you’ve ever encountered.”
Anton tried to keep his expression neutral. “And?”
Navarro’s face pinched in irritation. “I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell the sweat on your skin. I can sense the tiniest shift in tension, in your breath. These things tell me that you’re lying to me. Now tell me—you came here with the Pale Hand, didn’t you?”
Anton pressed his lips together.
“Didn’t you?”
“Fine.” Anton sighed, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Yes. Fine. I did. We’re old pals, me and the Pale Hand.”
“She has a sister,” Navarro said slowly. “I need to find her. Tell me where she is, and I won’t hurt you.”
“And if I refuse, you’ll—what? Kill me?” Anton was not new to having his life threatened. “I haven’t actually done anything wrong.”
“As I said, I am not the Sentry.
It doesn’t matter to me what you have or haven’t done.” Navarro unsheathed his sword slowly, letting Anton’s gaze linger on the curve of its blade. “Tell me where her sister is.”
Anton raised his eyes from the sword to Navarro’s face. He was afraid, but not of the blade. “What are you going to do to her?”
“Nothing,” Navarro replied. “If the Pale Hand cooperates.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
Quicker than a blink, Navarro’s blade was at Anton’s throat. “You should first worry about your own cooperation.”
Anton raised his chin. “You’re not going to kill me.” He’d faced men like Navarro before—men steeped in anger and a little fear, looking for something to make them feel in control again.
“You think not?” Navarro asked. There was something strangely open in his dark eyes, like he himself wasn’t sure how far he’d go.
Anton felt the blade pinch against his flesh as he swallowed. Strangely, he was calm. This was a danger that was real, right in front of him. A danger that, one way or another, would end.
And though Anton was the one at this man’s mercy, it was his choice what would happen next.
“Look,” he said. “We both have a problem here. You want to find the Pale Hand’s sister, and I want to get out of here. Seems like we can help each other.”
“You’ll tell me where she is?”
“No.” The blade pressed harder. “But I can show you.”
Navarro took a step back, putting a blessed few inches between his sword and Anton’s throat.
Anton exhaled. “Get me out of here, and I’ll take you to her.”
“You’re playing games while the fate of the world hangs in the balance,” Hector told him. “Whatever she is to you, it’s not worth what will happen if I don’t find her.”
“If the fate of the world really hangs in the balance, then what does one prisoner going free matter?”
The swordsman’s gaze flickered to the door and then back to Anton. “Someone’s coming.”
“Then I guess you better decide quick.”
With a groan of frustration, Navarro sheathed his blade and grabbed Anton by the shoulder, shoving him toward the open door.
26
JUDE
What would you do if you could do anything you wanted?
The question flashed through Jude’s mind as he tore through the Sentry barracks to the entrance of the holding cells. This was the question Hector had asked him that night, over a year ago, when the future had stretched endlessly ahead of them. It was the question that had surfaced in Jude’s mind when he’d chosen Hector as the sixth member of his Guard. It was the question that, when Hector had answered it, had cemented their roles in life. Hector and Jude, side by side.
I’d go with you, of course.
But Jude knew, now, what Hector’s real answer was. Unburdened by the oath he’d sworn to the Order, unshackled from Jude’s expectations, Hector felt called by another cause. He had not been born a soldier of faith, the way Jude had. He had been born a son, and made an orphan, and that was a wound that ran deeper than Jude could fathom. Even if Hector swore he was doing this because of the last prophecy, Jude knew the truth. It was grief, not faith, that drove him.
A Sentry stopped Jude just outside the prisoners’ tower. He recognized her from the Pale Hand’s near escape the day before.
“Captain Weatherbourne,” she addressed him. “There’s been an incident.”
Jude drew up short. A thousand awful scenarios chased through his mind. “What happened?”
“The guards on duty early this morning were found unconscious in the guardroom. One of the prisoners is missing.”
Jude tensed. “The one we spoke to yesterday?”
To his surprise, the Sentry shook her head. “No. The boy she was with when we found them. We’re investigating what—”
“Take me up there,” Jude demanded.
The Sentry hesitated.
“Those prisoners are of particular interest to the Order of the Last Light. It’s imperative that I speak with the girl again,” Jude said, summoning whatever scrap of gravitas his father had passed on to him. “Take me up there.”
“All right,” the Sentry said. “This way.”
She led him into the lift. It was a tense few minutes of waiting for it to ascend into the tower, and then for the Sentry to open the girl’s cell.
The Sentry stood back, and Jude stepped forward, wrenching open the heavy iron door.
Inside, the girl Hector called the Pale Hand was already on her feet. Before she could say a word or the Sentry could follow him into the cell, Jude turned and slammed the door shut.
He whirled back on her. “Where is he?”
She looked so different from the girl they’d interviewed just the day before. Despite her imprisonment, she had been calm, collected. Overnight, she had transformed into a desperate tangle of nerves and panic.
If Jude had thought he could find anger or hatred in his heart for this girl who had caused Hector so much pain, one look at her—shackled hands pressed to her gasping chest—dispelled that notion.
“He was here, wasn’t he?” Jude tried again. “Hector Navarro, I mean. He came back down here this morning.”
She nodded haltingly.
“Did he try to hurt you?” The words felt wrenched out of him. He could not imagine Hector being cruel, but he had seen the hollow, haunted look in his eyes when he looked at this girl.
She didn’t answer, her eyes bright with furious unshed tears.
“Please,” Jude begged. “Tell me what happened.”
“How do I know you’re not just going to help him?” Her voice was scraped raw. “You’re with the Order of the Last Light, too.”
Frustration ignited his chest. He didn’t have time for her suspicion. He had to find Hector and bring him back before this mistake became irrevocable.
“I’m not here as captain of the Paladin Guard. I came here to find my friend. Whatever happens after that—”
“You mean, whether or not you decide to kill me?”
Jude’s eyes widened. “Is that what he said he was going to do?”
“He said he was going to try to prove to you that I’m the Pale Hand,” she said. “The killing part was implied.”
“I won’t hurt you,” Jude said. “Where is Hector now?”
She stared at him in silence as Jude’s frustration grew.
“The other prisoner who was brought here with you,” he said. “The boy. The guards say he’s gone missing. What does Hector want with him?”
She pressed her lips together. Sucking in a shaking breath, she said, “He knows where my sister is.”
“And what does Hector want with your sister?”
“To use her against me,” she said. “To hurt her, if I don’t comply with him.”
Jude’s chest seized. He knew that Hector wanted revenge, but this? To hurt an innocent girl, just because he believed her sister was responsible for his family’s death?
It was the grief talking. Hector would not really do such a thing. Jude gripped his sword, reordering his thoughts to face the problem at hand. He would not consider what might happen if he didn’t find Hector.
“The other prisoner—do you think he’ll help Hector?” Jude asked. “Would he betray you just like that?”
“I … I don’t know,” the girl replied. “He might. He doesn’t owe me anything, and I don’t trust him.”
“Then you need to tell me where they’re going.”
She met his gaze squarely. “Take me with you.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Jude said. “Just tell me where he went. I swear to you, I won’t let him hurt anyone. I will find him, and I will make him see reason.”
“How will you do that?” she spat. “He won’t see reason. He’s blinded by—”
“Grief,” Jude finished quietly. “I know. There is a code that we live by, an oath that we take, and that oath does not allow for gr
ief or revenge. He has broken it by leaving, and if he carries out what you say he intends to do—” He stopped. He would not allow himself to think of Hector that way. “I swear to you, I will not let that happen.”
“I don’t care about your stupid oath,” she bit out. “I care about my sister. So please—” She broke off raggedly, pressing a palm to her chest as if she could press the panic away.
Jude saw in her face what lay behind her ferocity and rage. Fear.
“Please.”
“I won’t let him hurt your sister,” he said. “There is no honor in revenge, for you or him.”
Her eyes searched his. “You think a lot of that. Honor.”
Jude bowed his head in agreement.
“Then I need your word, that whatever happens, whatever Hector says about me, about my sister—” Her voice cracked. “Give me your word that you’ll protect her.”
He could promise her this much, at least. Death should not be dispensed so readily. “I’m responsible for Hector’s life. For his choices, his actions. I will not let him hurt your sister.”
“Swear to me,” she said, her eyes flashing. “The way you swore your oath.”
His fingers twitched at the edge of his cloak. The oath of the Paladin was sacred.
“Swear to me!”
Jude dropped to one knee, laying the Pinnacle Blade across his hands. “I do swear.”
She studied him for a long, hard moment before she said, “She’s in a burned-down shrine just outside the High City, by the South Gate. Find her before Navarro does.”
He nodded and stood. Whatever was going through Hector’s mind now, he knew that he would regret it if he hurt an innocent girl. He would find them before it was too late.
“I don’t know anything about you,” the prisoner said. “But I’m trusting you to do this for me. Keep her safe.”
“For your sister’s sake,” Jude said. “And Hector’s.”
27
HASSAN
While he waited for Penrose to fetch the rest of the Guard, Hassan called two of Lethia’s servants and sent them to the agora.
There Will Come a Darkness Page 19
