Well of the Damned (39 page)

Above
all, there was no torture chair for misbehaving children. She was
invited to return anytime without making prior arrangements, so
confident was he that she would always find the orphanage clean,
tidy, and up to her standards.

He’d
not only introduced her to the children but let her take groups of
them to the bookman’s and other shops to be fitted for clothes
and shoes. Today, she had broken her fast with them and read two more
chapters of The Fairytale Angel aloud before bidding them good-bye.
She gave each child a parting gift this time, a fruit-filled tart
from a bakehouse on the way, for she planned to begin her long
journey back to Tern first thing in the morning, and she needed to
spend the day packing and preparing for travel.

Although
the streets were muddy and the people wet, citizens seemed excited to
see her. They stood along the streets shoulder to shoulder, with
their little ones atop their shoulders, to get a glimpse of their
queen, and so she waved at them, and they cheered in return. The
lordover’s soldiers had done a good job keeping the crowd’s
distance and maintaining order when someone became too enthusiastic.
She took the coachman’s arm and climbed into the carriage.

Feanna
blew kisses at the orphans as they waved and shouted their good-byes.
She’d enjoyed the visit, but she missed her own children and
was eager to return home and continue making amends to her husband.
She knew she’d been overly emotional and sensitive lately, and
at times downright unreasonable, perhaps due to the pregnancy. It
would be a joyful reunion with them all.

Tennara
assumed her usual position in front of the carriage, along with
Mirrah. Adro rode on the left, and Lilalian on the right, while
Hennah and Anya took up the rear. The coach rolled down the street at
a lazy pace. From within, the queen waved to the citizens who’d
gathered along the streets looking like dirty, half-drowned rats. She
waved and smiled, waved and smiled. Though the city was filthy, and
the rains hadn’t helped matters, it seemed the people’s
sense of excitement had not been dampened.

At
first, the sheer number of citizens crowded together to see her was
alarming — how could her battlers defend her if they decided to
revolt? She’d heard stories about large groups of people going
from mildly annoyed to murderous mob in no time, and Ambryce had been
mired in scandal and poverty far too long. When she noticed smiles on
their faces and not angry red maws, she relaxed. The people looked
happy and hopeful. Perhaps the city truly was healing from the
corruption that had gripped it for so long.

Hundreds
of people were gathered outside the temple. Tennara had specifically
asked the High Cleric not to announce the queen’s impending
visit, but somehow word had gotten out. Feanna supposed it was to be
expected, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. The
communion was her private business, to be done in quiet, not with a
thousand pairs of eyes watching and a thousand lips whispering.

Several of the lordover’s
men-at-arms were waiting outside the temple, ready to contain the
crowd of onlookers. As the carriage pulled up, they took up positions
around it.

Feanna
took the offered hand of the footman and alighted from the carriage,
smiling at the cheering people. Then, someone began yelling, and the
crowd gradually quieted. Adro and Tennara stepped in close to shield
her, their swords drawn. Mirrah urged her to hurry into the temple.
Across the street, a shoving match had started, and many who weren’t
shouting were oohing and gasping in surprise.

“Hey
now,” Lilalian shouted, approaching the affray with her sword
ready. “Take your disagreement elsewhere.”

Something
flew through the air and hit Lilalian in the chest. Feanna gasped.
“Lila!” Adro urged her to get back into the carriage, but
she needed to see what happened — to see whether Lilalian was
hurt. A few people laughed, but most wore expressions of disbelief or
outrage, and shuffled away from the center of the conflict, leaving a
couple standing alone. The woman was armed with a basket of eggs, and
the man had one in his hand, turning it with small flicks of his
fingers. They were dressed well, and she even had ribbons in her
hair, woven into her braid like the traditional followers of
Asti-nayas used to do before the practice fell out of fashion.

“Leave
now,” Lilalian said, “before someone gets hurt.”

The
man smirked, lightly tossed the egg in his hand as if assessing its
weight, and then backed away. The woman sneered directly at Feanna,
radiating contempt. “You won’t be chosen, Your Loftiness.
Go home. Go back to your pretty palace and fancy gowns and leave us
alone.”

The
crowd was silent, as aghast as the queen was. Until now, Feanna had
only been greeted warmly. She wasn’t prepared to be insulted or
disrespected, but that was what she felt now. Tears stung her eyes.
Had the couple not been armed with eggs, she might have spoken to
them, to ask what had inspired their discourtesy, but she didn’t
want to enter the temple with egg on her costly dress. There was
something viciously inhuman in their eyes, and she suspected she
wouldn’t get satisfying answers anyway.

An
affectionate protectiveness engulfed her, emanating from her six
guards. She usually sensed emotions from others only when she touched
them — unless Daia helped her. She looked around quickly for
her husband, knowing Daia would be nearby.
No
, she thought.
They wouldn’t be here. People would recognize him and would be
swarming all around him, forgetting about Feanna’s presence
there. She couldn’t deny her empathy was stronger here. The
temple, perhaps. She looked up at its bell tower, at its beautiful,
colored-glass windows and tall spires. It must have been the power of
Asti-nayas infused in the building that enhanced her god-given gift.

With
her guards around her, she went inside. As soon as she crossed the
threshold, her sense of other people’s emotions vanished, as
though a shroud had settled over her.

To
her surprise, only a few worshipers were seated in the pews with
their heads bowed. A cleric knelt before the altar, moving his hand
in the gesture of subservience and chanting softly. The words were
familiar, but their meaning was foreign. One day, she would like to
know what the chants meant. Her guards stood aside to let her proceed
them, and then followed her lead when she took a seat near the front
of the nave.

A
young couple came down the steps of the dais with their beautiful
daughter, having just received the sacrament. The expressions on
their faces were less serene than bewildered. Feanna bowed her head
to begin her prayers.

Asti-nayas,
I humbly submit my life to y—

“Filthy
peasant.”

Feanna
looked up in shock and met the cold eyes of the girl. She didn’t
need her empathy to know the child’s heart was filled with
loathing. It was plain from the expression on her snarling face. Had
some wicked spirit possessed her? That must have been why her parents
had brought her, but why now? How could such a dark soul enter a
house of the Savior without shrieking in pain and fleeing in horror?
Why wasn’t the High Cleric performing some sort of cleansing
ritual?

Feanna
looked up to check the ceiling for the symbols written in gold and
gems to ward off evil and protect the temple from magic. They were
sparser than the temple in Tern, but they were present. It made no
sense how a child could be stricken with such darkness and enter this
holiest of places.

The
family took their daughter outside, and Feanna was left wondering
what would become of the child. She would have a word with the High
Cleric later. She needed to understand. Why hadn’t taking the
sacrament warded her, or at the very least killed the darkness within
her? She needed answers, and who better to seek them from than the
god Himself?

Asti-nayas,
I humbly submit my life to you. My faith has been shaken, but I don’t
want to harbor doubt in my heart. Forgive me, my Savior. Please help
me to understand what I witnessed today.

She’d
come intending to pray for the orphaned children to find loving
families, for Cirang to be caught before she hurt anyone else, and
for Gavin to be more understanding and less dominating towards his
wife, but she was too disturbed by what she’d seen in that
child. She was eager to take her sacrament and proceed to the
guidance chamber where she could confer with the High Cleric.

Her
guards stood when she did and made way for her to step into the
aisle. Tennara and Lilalian were followers of the Farthan sage Yrys,
and so Feanna didn’t expect them to take the sacrament with
her, but Mirrah, Hennah, and Anya had already expressed interest in
participating in the ritual. And Adro. He was most in need of
spiritual healing. Despite his aspirations to live a good, honorable
life, he had remnants of darkness in his soul, which she felt in the
form of lust whenever she brushed against him. It wasn’t the
pleasant, loving desire she felt from her husband, but the raw itch
of debauchery that wouldn’t be satisfied simply by bedding a
woman. The sacrament would cleanse him. With her guards following,
she ascended the dais.

As
she approached the sacramental font, an acolyte, dressed in a plain
white robe with the customary lace veil, curtsied deeply and
uncharacteristically. Feanna chalked it up to nervousness. The
acolytes at the temple in Tern never acknowledged her, as was
expected, perhaps because they were more experienced and better
instructed. The girl dipped a ladle into the font, poured the blessed
water into a porcelain cup, and handed it to her.

Feanna
raised the cup to her lips and let the water pool in her mouth,
bathing her tongue before she swallowed it. The acolyte’s head
lifted slightly. Was she watching? That was something else to discuss
with the High Cleric. Apparently this meddlesome girl needed more
training, perhaps with a leather strap to her back.

The
acolyte offered a cup of water to her three women battlers in turn,
who obediently took their sacrament. When it was offered to Adro, he
raised his hands as if to refuse. Feanna gave him a pointed look that
communicated her expectation that he would drink the damned water or
suffer her displeasure. He pressed his lips together in silent
acquiescence and took the cup.

There,
she thought with satisfaction. That randy bastard was in sore need of
cleansing. In fact, she would start taking him to temple with her
once they got home, even if she had to drag him by the callibisters.

Chapter 45

Standing
on the dais in the Temple of the Savior Asti-nayas, Adro’s
knees quaked. He’d committed sins for which he could never
atone, though he dedicated his life to the task. Entering a house of
worship felt like the god was shining a beam of light directly on
him, announcing to everyone in attendance what terrible things he’d
done before he’d been branded. Now his queen was making him
take the sacrament, receive water blessed by the god Himself into his
body to cleanse his soul.

He
knew he should be grateful to her for sharing a ritual with him that
had so much meaning in her life, but she didn’t understand. He
wasn’t a good man. He’d never been a good man. Only the
brand on one forearm and the threat of receiving another — or
worse, being put to death — kept him honest. Adro hadn’t
become a warrant knight to save people; he’d done it to save
himself.

She
glared at him under a lowered brow, demanding silently that he drink.
He didn’t want to disappoint or upset her. Far from it. She was
the kindest, most moral and selfless person he’d ever met, and
he wanted her to look upon him with trust and admiration the way she
did Gavin and Daia and even Tennara. Her eyes grew more intense with
every passing moment, as though she could change him with merely her
will. Perhaps she could.

He
raised the cup to his lips and sipped the water. It had a mildly
salty taste, barely noticeable. He drained the cup, afraid to look at
the statue towering above him for fear he’d see disgust etched
in the marble features. The acolyte was watching him as intently as
Feanna was, as if they both expected him to be struck down by
Asti-nayas or choke on the god’s blessing as it went down his
throat.

Nothing
happened. Nothing someone might observe, that was. An excitement
stirred within him, not the sort he got in the brothels, but more
complete. It rippled through his body and mind, igniting thoughts
he’d long suppressed, ideas that, executed poorly, had earned
the brand on his arm. Why would Asti-nayas awaken these thoughts
unless He wanted Adro to act on them?

Feanna
smiled at him with dancing eyes. She looked eager to tell him
something, but the temple wasn’t the right place. Picking up
her skirts, she went down the steps, and he followed, tossing a look
back at the acolyte who no longer stood with head bowed. She watched
them from beneath her veil.