“It’s you,” she whispered.
“I tried to tell you.” He sounded almost apologetic. “But you are too trusting to perceive the truth.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “That was Her problem, too.”
Sabine’s skin prickled. “What do you know of the New Maiden, Tal?”
“More than I wish to,” he said. “I see Her in you, in that thread that connects us. It’s a shame, really.”
“What is?”
Tal took a step toward her. “That our story must end this way.”
Sabine moved backward in sudden terror. “What do you want from me?”
Tal sighed. “It is not about what I want, Sabine. Surely you understand.” He unsheathed his sword, holding it lazily by his side.
Sabine glanced desperately across the room, where her dagger lay abandoned, the blade streaked with her blood. She took a step toward it, but Tal used his sword to stop her.
“We were not meant to be enemies,” he said, moving forward so that she was forced to retreat. “A series of unhappy accidents has simply put us in this perilous position.”
Her heart sank as she realized she had been backed into a corner. “There’s no need to hurt me, Tal.”
“I like you, Sabine,” Tal said softly as she shrank against the wall. “I truly do. But my allegiance belongs to Him, and the Second Son’s goal has always been to eliminate the New Maiden.”
Sabine watched him approach as though through smoke, her vision and her hearing dulled. She understood rationally that she was in immediate danger. But it was difficult to react in kind, to search for a trace of power she knew had long abandoned her.
“It’s funny, really,” Tal said, once he was close enough for her to smell his soap. “The world seeks from you salvation, but you can’t even be bothered to save yourself.”
That taunt was just enough darkness to drive away the fog.
Sabine lunged, slashing at the soldier’s face, the nubs of her fingernails leaving long red streaks along his cheeks. She kicked at his shins and pulled on his hair, trying desperately to duck beneath his arm and flee.
At such close range, Tal could not find purchase with his sword. He sent it clattering to the ground and had just managed to wrap one hand around Sabine’s throat when their scuffle was interrupted by a yelp. A boy about Artur’s age stared uncertainly at them, and the shield he clutched crashed to the floor. The sound took Tal by surprise. That lapse in his focus gave Sabine the briefest moment to extract herself from his grip.
“Trap her!” Tal shouted, but the boy was too slow.
Sabine fled, heart pounding in her throat. Blood rushed to her head, making her steps uncertain. She focused only on putting one foot in front of the other, on leaving behind Tal’s wicked green eyes and his bone-chilling smile. She did not stop until she was safely outside the confines of the castle, until she had ducked behind a wilting rosebush, gasping to pull the autumn air into her burning lungs.
Once, she’d felt a tentative kinship toward Tal. Now she knew the truth: They were bound by fate. With Tal as His vessel, the Second Son was a true, tangible threat, one whose desire for vengeance was exacerbated by the prophet’s love for Elodie Warnou.
There was no more pretending. The Second Son wanted the New Maiden eliminated, and Tal would stop at nothing to ensure His will was done.
14
Elodie was accosted by her youngest sister the moment she disembarked from the coach.
“Not now, Bri.” The queen had spent the entire ride back from the bank digesting the implications of the Republics’ faith. Her head ached something terrible.
Brianne flung herself in front of the queen, barring the path forward. “You need to come with me,” she said sternly. “Now.”
The youngest Warnou had been spending all her time with Sabine and the new chaplain, so it was no surprise to Elodie that Brianne led her through the waning garden and toward the church.
“Bri,” Elodie said, a bit more pressingly. “I really don’t have time for…” But all protest paused the moment she stepped inside and saw Sabine. The New Maiden was curled up in a pew, her eyes dull. Her hands were folded, blood caked beneath her fingernails, wrists bruised. Her whole body shook, her teeth chattering like she’d been caught in a winter storm. Katrynn and the new Royal Chaplain hovered in the back of the chapel, looking concerned.
“We found her like this,” Katrynn said, the moment she saw the queen. “She won’t say a word.”
“We thought she might talk to you, Majesty.” The Royal Chaplain’s eyes were grave.
Elodie knelt beside Sabine. She wanted to hold the New Maiden’s hand in hers but refrained. She would wait for Sabine to tell her if she wished to be touched. “Sabine.” She whispered the New Maiden’s name like a prayer. “What happened to you?”
Sabine had not moved when Elodie entered the room, nor when her sister or Silas spoke. It was only at the sound of the queen’s voice that she stirred. “I…” It sounded as though she had been crying, but her face was dry.
“It’s all right.” Elodie placed a hand on the wooden pew. “You can tell me.”
“Tal…,” Sabine began again. That one syllable nearly shattered the queen.
“What did he do to you?”
Sabine reached for Elodie. Her fingers curled around the queen’s so tightly it was almost painful. “It’s him.” When met with Elodie’s mystified expression, she tried again. “Tal is the prophet of the Second Son.”
Elodie’s stomach dropped out from underneath her. She had grown so distracted by Rob’s theological musings that she had ignored the most obvious suspect. Tal was unmoored and military minded, used to following orders without question. He understood that in order to defeat an enemy, he needed to understand them first. And so he had forged a relationship, and Sabine—lovely, compassionate Sabine—had taken the bait. Elodie had refused to believe her oldest friend was capable of such deceit, which meant she was at fault. Just as much as Tal.
“That bastard,” she said fiercely, her fury tenfold knowing His word guided the predatory Republics, too.
Sabine blinked at her with surprise. “You believe me?”
It broke Elodie’s heart that she had harbored any doubt. “Of course I do.” The queen sat back on her heels, looking up at Katrynn, Silas, and Brianne. “I’m going to confront him.”
