“Wasn’t one of the attendants a descendent of Beck?” Brianne asked.
“Of course.” Silas’s eyes went wide. “Descendants of Her Favoreds will be vital to our cause. Their connection to Her will only serve to make Sabine stronger. Once we locate them, they will recruit others.” She smiled at Brianne. “This is a powerful start.”
Brianne fiddled with a silver chain around her neck, pulling out a key. “I know how to find them.”
“What is that?” Elodie questioned her sister. Brianne had changed: her dresses traded in for trousers and boots, her once styled hair now slicked back into a tight bun. She looked steadier in her body. Seemed more comfortable and in control. It was a wonder to watch her grow into herself.
“A key to the Archives,” Brianne said. “I made a vow to protect and preserve the knowledge of the New Maiden.”
“Genevar was a diligent record keeper,” Sabine added. “As a descendent of Ruti herself, she will have traced the lineage of the others.”
Warmth spread through Elodie’s chest. Until now, her time as queen had been nothing but a constant, bitter battle. But the people in this room were proof that she was part of something greater than herself, that she could use her power to bring people together and accomplish true good despite the hurdles of the crown.
“Bri, you and Silas will go to the Archives,” the queen commanded. “Pull as many records as you can about the Favoreds and their descendants and bring them back here.” The two of them nodded and rose to their feet. Elodie admired their parallels. Both were the youngest of four, both had witnessed a sister harness her basest instincts to reach the throne. Both had found comfort in their faith. It was right that Brianne should have a proper adult to offer her guidance.
“Cleo”—Elodie turned to her middle sister, so inspired when it came to aesthetics and perception—“you start work on the posters. Be persuasive, funny, whatever you need to make it clear that we will not back down. We are just as much a force as those who whisper His word in the shadows.”
She turned to Artur, the boy with mischief in his eyes. “Artur,” she said, steeling herself for Sabine’s reaction, “I need you to find out everything you can about explosives.”
“Cool!” Artur grinned, while Sabine looked on with horror.
“The Second Son fights dirty,” Elodie explained. “We must be prepared.”
“Don’t bother talking me out of it, Bet,” Artur said, pushing back his chair and jumping to his feet. “The queen commands it.” He winked and headed for the door, Cleo at his heels.
“Katrynn.” Elodie turned to Sabine’s sister. “We need to identify as many potential members of our resistance as possible. You spoke of your mother’s quiet rage, which is precisely the weapon we’ll need to channel as a collective. Do you think anyone else in Harborside would be willing to take up the call?” The Anders sisters exchanged a knowing look.
“We can find you recruits,” Katrynn answered immediately. “I’ll go talk to Ma.” Sabine’s sister squeezed her hand before she departed.
Only the queen and the New Maiden remained.
Sabine fussed with her braid, looking troubled. “You sound so certain of our success.”
Elodie sighed. “Does it help or hurt if I tell you that I am not as sure as I sound?”
“Helps,” Sabine said. “It makes me less afraid that I will disappoint you.”
Elodie drew the New Maiden near, cupping Sabine’s cheeks between her palms. “This mess has no reflection upon you. If anything,” she said, eyes flitting to the other girl’s lips so that she might find relief from the depths of her eyes, “the fault is mine.”
Sabine bit her bottom lip. “What could you possibly have done?”
“It is my world who stands against you,” Elodie admitted, moving her hands from Sabine’s face to clasp her hands. “My best friend, my brother—both are staunchly devoted to His cause and wish to eradicate the New Maiden.”
“You truly had no idea,” Sabine asked searchingly, “about Tal?”
Elodie hesitated. It was too late for a lie, too ill-timed for the entire truth. “He told me of his allegiance, but not his role. I should have shared my suspicions with you sooner.”
Sabine’s brown eyes took on a deep sorrow. “As long as you are with me now,” she said softly, “that is all that I can ask for.”
It was so simple, compared to the recent demands that had been made of her. She was moved to kneel again, but Sabine stopped her.
“Stay with me,” she said, not quite smiling. “Right here, eye to eye.”
Elodie lost herself in Sabine’s fraught expression. There was no telling what the outcome of this fight with their enemies would be, but in this moment, it did not matter. They were equals in their power, in their anger, in their fear.
They were lucky to have in each other such a strong counterpart. They were compromised, too, for such love left a person vulnerable to impossible loss.
Elodie Warnou could only hope that after all was said and done, she would have another chance to drown in Sabine Anders’s eyes.
27
Orla Anders would not allow her daughters to return to Harborside without her. “If my children are embroiled in battle,” Sabine’s mother said, “then I must stand by their side.” When Sabine tried to protest, her mother held up a hand. “Who better to recruit for an army of anger than the person who spent her life among her neighbors, privy to their fears, their failures, and their concerns?”
To that, Sabine could not object. Her mother traded in potions that made life in Harborside just the slightest bit easier. While it was Sabine’s magic that gave them potency, it was Orla’s hand that formed their foundation. It was her mother who brewed elixirs for luck and for fortune, who snuck salve to battered partners and who crafted tonics to cure maladies when a doctor demanded too much coin.
Orla Anders had offered the people of Harborside shelter in the storm of life. Sabine and Katrynn’s recruitment efforts would only benefit from her counsel.
“Harborsiders are proud, mind,” their mother warned as the coach swept through the city, “so do not give them reason to be defensive. You are not there to apportion judgment, nor to tell them how to feel. You are simply there to offer them sanctuary.”
Sabine’s heart twisted in her chest, the same way it had when she’d received her neighbors’ confessions. It had been a relief to hold out her hands and help her neighbors carry the weight of their woes. It was not dissimilar to the New Maiden’s calling, to the way She had opened up Her heart to the burdens of Her followers.
“What will we do once they’ve agreed to join us?” Katrynn asked, fiddling with the buttons on her dress.
Sabine hummed tunelessly, searching for a solution. They needed a way to identify their recruits, to organize those willing to fight for Her cause. This task would require diligence, devotion, and an innocuous meeting place.
“Send them to the church in the Arts District,” Sabine said, thinking fondly of the young girl who spent her days in the sanctuary. “Tell them to give their names to Freya. This way, we will have a record. We will know our numbers. We will be prepared.”
