“How could I?” the New Maiden asked, putting a hand to Elodie’s cheek. “You are strong enough to know your limits. Thoughtful enough to protect your goodness. Wise enough to know the difference between power and righteousness.” Sabine’s eyes shone with such awe and appreciation that Elodie could hardly bear it.
Sabine made her feel so steady, so certain. So appreciated for the same things Elodie valued most about herself. There was no doubt, no misplaced feelings, no unsustainable affection. Sabine saw Elodie for who she was: a girl with ambition who had battled with her bloodline’s most evil monsters and emerged triumphant.
“I love you,” Elodie told her, the word filling her up with impossible warmth. Sabine was her equal in every sense, her goodness illuminating the path ahead, urging Elodie to become the best version of herself.
“I love you,” Sabine said, and lady above, what a thrill to offer up her heart and have another hold it.
That was the difference between Elodie and her mother: Tera Warnou had been afraid to give away her love lest anyone use it against her. “Country above all” had been a shield to ensure she always maintained the upper hand. But love was not meant to possess or control. Love was freedom. Love was letting go. That was the greatness to which Elodie truly aspired, a power far more sustainable than crown or cult.
Love was the legacy Elodie Warnou wished to leave.
35
On the north side of the harbor, several men fiddled with a complicated contraption made of rope. Sailors tied knots and dockhands barked orders while Sabine and the rest of the assembled volunteers watched, open-mouthed, as a ship’s intact rudder was extracted from the mountain of wreckage before them.
It was maddeningly slow work. They’d been excavating Harborside for nearly a week, yet the piles did not seem to deplete, the smoke had not entirely cleared, and the fatigue never faded from Sabine’s bones.
“Feels a bit like we’re back in the Lower Banks excavating sacred remains,” Katrynn said, as she bent down to collect a perfectly usable metal tankard from beneath a pile of glass.
It was true, only this time Sabine’s anger had no target but herself. Harborside’s destruction had been her idea. While ultimately she had hoped the resistance would not need to employ the tactic, if she had not offered up the option of sacrifice, her neighbors would not be displaced.
You have taken your calling too literally, her darkness teased. The New Maiden rebuilt the Lower Banks from the ashes, but She did not set them on fire Herself.
Sabine swatted its taunting away. Once, she had believed that she was at the mercy of her darkness. That she was a failure for her feelings and that anger had no place in her life. But then she had slipped a princess a vial of tears, had fulfilled an ancient prophecy, had set off a chain reaction that changed her country—changed her life—forever. Now she had settled into a comfortable coexistence, choosing when and how the darkness gained access to her heart. It currently nestled itself in the hollow of her ribs, wrapped around the pulsing gem of the New Maiden’s soul. Its presence was steadying. Sabine was whole once again.
When the mix of sunlight and sweat grew too much for her to bear, Sabine went in search of drinking water. A stall had been set up in what was once an alleyway, with jugs of water and ladles for the taking.
Sabine slipped into line, grateful for a moment of inactivity. She was still exhausted from her time in the Lower Banks, from the emotions she had wrenched forth and the anger she had released. The darkness had taken its toll on her, too, forcing her into a strange, fitful sleep as it worked to find its place within her again.
Someone stepped into the queue behind her, jostling her slightly. “Pardon me,” the person said, as she glanced over her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to—” But the speaker fell silent as soon as he saw her face.
Tal looked a wreck, as depleted and worn down as Sabine felt. He had traded his uniform for plain clothes, his sword nowhere in sight. His eyes were sunken and held a deep discomfort. Before she could talk herself out of it, Sabine wrapped him in a tight embrace.
“What are you…?” But when Tal realized she did not mean to harm him, he stopped struggling and allowed himself to be held.
You would comfort your enemy? her darkness asked. But Tal was not Sabine’s enemy, just as Sebastien had not been Hers. They had both been impossibly marked, had found shame in their emotions and comfort in a darkness few others could understand.
When at last Sabine released him, Tal looked relieved. Their touch no longer held the electricity of the past; no danger swirled about them, big and bright. They were simply two people who bore similar scars.
“What are you doing here?” Sabine asked, glancing around at the bustle of the harbor. It was strange, after their rivalry, that Tal would participate in something so close to Sabine’s heart.
“Searching for steel,” Tal said. “I’m taking over my father’s forge.” He shifted uncomfortably. “He was lost in the blast. Good riddance, I suppose.” His face twisted in a scowl, his demons still scrabbling for space. Sabine dared not poke such a tender bruise.
“If you ever need to talk…,” she offered, but Tal shook his head.
“I’ve done enough.”
“Not so,” Sabine argued. “We both have been cursed with a burden too much for one person to hold. There is no need to suffer alone.”
“It’s the only way I know how,” Tal said softly. He tried to smile. Failed. “I thought He would free me. Instead, I’m more lost than ever.” He looked at Sabine desperately. “I was born into so much anger and pain. Where am I supposed to go from here?”
“You were not made to hurt,” she said gently, “but you were hurt. You deserve to heal.”
Tal pursed his lips. “That might take the rest of my life.”
“That’s all right,” Sabine said. “All any of us can do is survive, one day at a time.”
Eight days after her clash with the Second Son, Sabine returned to the First Church of the New Maiden. The doors were locked. She pulled a small key from her pocket, fiddling about until she heard a soft click. The tiny chapel, tucked away behind the rolling hills now brown with frost, looked just as it had the first time Sabine had stumbled across its threshold, her darkness screaming, her vision spotting. It had been a refuge then, as it was now. She pushed open the door, which groaned familiarly. The sanctuary was quiet as death inside, and just as cold. Very few feet had passed through to disturb the dust.
Sabine sank into the nearest pew and sighed. The sound echoed softly, like the scratch of pen to parchment. This made her laugh, thinking of the new Archivist. Brianne was now perpetually painted in ink. Her tongue, her fingertips, her sleeves were covered in the stuff, an ironic parallel to the way Sabine’s own darkness manifested. She’d tried to wipe away a blot that had dried on Brianne’s cheek, but the youngest Warnou had waved her away. “Don’t bother,” Brianne had said upon their visit days prior. “It’ll only come back. Now, tell me why you’re here.” While Brianne had handed over the key willingly, she had still examined Sabine with curiosity. “What are you going there to do?”
“I just need a place to clear my head,” Sabine had mumbled. “I’m surrounded by so many people lately, I need somewhere to simply… exist.”
But that wasn’t the entire truth. Before the Second Son had perished, He had whispered a final word. A name.
For as long as Sabine had known of Her, the New Maiden had only ever been referred to by Her title. This made Her sacred, untouchable, inhuman. This left Her isolated, and trapped.
The New Maiden was more than Her word. The New Maiden was more than Her magic. The New Maiden had first been a girl with a name. A name that had been kept secret for centuries.
Sabine knelt at the altar of the First Church. Her hands shook as she kissed her thumb, precisely the way she had seen Silas do. Inside the chapel, her darkness was silent.
It was only Sabine and the scrap of Her soul that she carried within. A soul that belonged to a girl named Isolde.
Now that she could name the New Maiden, Sabine felt less strange speaking to Her.
