Shadows of the Seven Sins by Emily Colin

Author:Emily Colin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Orchid Books

CHAPTER TWO

SIX YEARS LATER

It was the Eve of the Architect’s Arrival, and fat flakes of snow fell on the Commonwealth of Ashes, blanketing the citizens gathered in Clockverk Square, washing them clean. The snow dusted the crimson robes of the High Priests where they gathered on the raised dais. It spangled the dark hair of the Executor, the Commonwealth’s leader, like tiny stars.

Newly-minted, eighteen-year-old bellator Kilían Bryndísarson stood at the edge of the Square, one hand resting on the dagur in his weapons belt, scanning the crowd for signs of trouble—which, in the Commonwealth, meant evidence of sin. Here, citizens lived and died by the tenets of the Seven Deadly Sins—pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. It was the Executor’s job to ensure no sin went unpunished; the Priests’ job to determine the nature of those punishments; and Kilían’s job, as a bellator, to carry them out. He was an enforcer, a warrior, and—when the time called for it—an executioner.

He had never wanted to be anything else.

Here in the Commonwealth, you were either a fat, compliant sheep or one of the watchful dogs guarding the flock. And Kilían was no one’s sheep.

His eyes flicked over the mass of citizens in the Square, indulging in the lone annual celebration that the Commonwealth permitted its citizens. They were grouped according to activity, as they ought to be—queued up to receive tiny cups of spiced hot chocolate, aligned in the space below the dais to chant the prayer that recognized the significance of the Architect’s arrival. No one was touching, beyond the unavoidable brush that such a crowd necessitated; there were no raised voices or overly joyful celebrants. No one attempted to wrangle an extra cup of hot chocolate—this would be unpardonable evidence of gluttony. Nor did they worm their way too close to the prized group selected to recite the Prayer of Arrival, in proximity to the Executor and the Priests; this might be seen as evidence of envy of the others’ positions. They did exactly what they should, following the rules like the compliant sheep he knew them to be. And though Kilían would never have admitted it to anyone else, he was beginning to get the tiniest bit bored.

His eyes swept the crowd once more—and stalled at its edge. There, stepping off the stones of the Square onto the darkness of the path that led to the Education Center, the Library, and the Rookery, was Kennett Gundarson—with a strange girl in tow.

It had been six years since that morning in the woods. At their Choosing a year before, Kilían had become a bellator, as he’d hoped, and Kennett had been named a medic, fulfilling the promise of the healing touch Kilían had felt when the other boy had tended to his bleeding knee. Still, no matter how much time had passed and how hard he tried, Kilían had never stopped feeling the way he always did when he saw Kennett—as if a spark that usually lay dormant in his chest had flared to life.

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