Kingdom of Souls by Rena Barron

Author:Rena Barron
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-One

I’m still shaking when we reach the bottom of the precipice that leads up to the Almighty Temple. Black smoke billows from the cliffs in earnest now; it’s hard to tell how much of the Temple has burned. As we shove our way through the crowd, I see flashes of our attackers’ faces. Their skin melted like churned butter in the heat. I keep wiping my hands against my tunic, desperate to wash away the horrible thing that I’ve done.

I’m not like her. I mouth the words as Rudjek pulls me along behind him. The crowd pushes against the line of City Guards blocking the path. They shout that Re’Mec sent a firestorm to strike down the Temple for allowing such desecration. They whisper that the seers are dead. I hope it’s true—at least of my mother. That would mean this nightmare is finally over. If Arti is dead, I will spit on her body for the wrong she’s done and what she’s made me do. Even then, it won’t absolve me of my part in the ritual, or my crime today at the sacred Gaer tree. The orishas should strike me down, too.

Rudjek and I are so close that his breath is on my face, and I can almost taste his fear. There are shotani in the crowd, hiding in plain sight, dressed as commoners or posing as City Guard. The echo of their magic dances across my forearms. I used to think of their magic as taunting, beyond my grasp. But no more. Now that I’ve seen a glimpse of what this curse is capable of.

A guard steps in my path. The man is twice my height and glares down at me with hazel eyes sharp enough to cut stone. Behind him people pass buckets of water up the steep precipice. They have wet cloth tied around their mouths and noses to fight off the smoke. “We need to get to the Temple,” I shout over the noise of the crowd, an ache growing in my belly.

“No one gets through!” the guard yells, spit spraying my face. “Orders from the Vizier.”

“But . . .” I try to push around him.

“You heard me, girl,” the man barks as he tightens his grasp on his shotel.

“Step aside,” Rudjek demands, authority threading through his words. Disheveled after the fight, he wears an expression as unwavering as his father’s. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The guard spots the lion-head crest pinned to Rudjek’s elara. His face turns grim, and he curses under his breath before moving. The panic in my belly eases a little, but it doesn’t go away.

Once we’re through the line, Rudjek touches my shoulder and we stop. His hand is ice-cold and my legs tremble beneath the weight of his searching eyes. Though I don’t want to talk about the awful thing I’ve done, I can’t avoid the subject forever. Behind him a man with a braided beard and sun-blistered skin pushes his way up to the same guard who let us pass.

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