AllFreeNovel
Share Us
What used to be a statue at the center of the crossroads now lies shattered across the cobblestones in chunks of marble. A forearm clutching a broken sword lies near my feet. Beyond it, amid the smaller shards, I identify pieces of a leg, a jaw and neck… and the top of a head with a chipped crown.
I passed this statue more than once on my ventures into the inner wards. It depicted King Konram, erected shortly after he took the throne.
Petra draws in her breath with a rasp. But even as I reach for her, she draws herself a little straighter, her shoulders rigid.
Her voice comes out taut. “They’re finding every way they can try to destroy him and our family’s legacy.”
I grimace. I wasn’t King Konram’s biggest fan, but I’d take his rule over the scourge sorcerers’ any day. “They need to convince everyone that the Melchioreks were the villains so they’ll look justified in taking over.”
“Statues can be rebuilt,” Casimir says gently. “We won’t let them win.”
Petra nods in a jerk, her stance tensing even more. “I’m just glad Klaudia and Jacos didn’t see this.”
As we take another turn onto a street that’ll take us to the large courtyard at the foot of the Temple of the Crown, my stomach knots. I don’t have the most pleasant associations with the country’s largest temple.
It’s the place where I watched several riven sorcerers walk to the noose and meet their deaths over the years. And the place where I nearly died stopping one of the scourge sorcerers from calling a wave of destruction down on the city.
But none of my trepidation could have prepared me for the sight that greets us when we reach the edge of the courtyard.
Petra stops in her tracks, sounding as if she’s stifled a gasp. I grip her shoulder and turn her toward me so we can pretend we’re paying attention to each other rather than the scene on the other side of the stretch of cobblestones.
I’d rather look at my future queen than the carnage on display there. Splotches of brownish red linger at the edge of my vision—blood splattered across the temple’s marble walls.
Rheave lets out a hushed growl. “Who are those people? Why would anyone have killed them?”
The blood I’m trying to shut out has come from several bodies who’ve been pinned to the walls by metal posts through their chests. Girding myself, I allow my gaze to veer toward the gruesome display again.
The figures have been savaged as if by wild animals—gouges torn through their clothes and flesh, organs spilling out, necks ripped open. But when I force myself to focus on them, I note the shape and color of their tattered outfits.
Robes of worship.
A surge of horror fills my throat. “They were all clerics and devouts. The ones who worked in the temple, maybe?”
A shiver passes through Casimir’s body. “The ones who refused to play along with the scourge sorcerers, most likely. Did they set hunting dogs on them?”
My stomach churns. “Only their followers, I’d bet.”
When I was playing at being a new recruit to the Order of the Wild, one of my tests was to race through the woods on all fours and tear apart a live rabbit with my bare hands. The conspirators take the name of their organization very literally.
As if there’s anything holy about savaging innocent creatures… or people.
“Yes, look upon those who betrayed their gods!” someone shouts from the doorway of the temple. “So many of the chosen leaders of our faith cared more about their own satisfaction than that of the All-Giver and the godlen. But the gods have willed that they and the false monarchy who steered our country so wrong should fall and a new age begin.”
More of the scourge sorcerers’ fucking propaganda. My teeth set on edge.
Will anyone in the city buy into their garbage? No doubt. They found plenty of recruits for their conspiracy, after all.
But far more will shut their mouths and stay out of the conflict not out of faith but out of fear that they’ll be ripped to shreds next.
Petra turns her head slowly. She takes in the ruined bodies with only the slightest tremor of her chin.
Her gaze pauses toward the end of the line, and her lips purse in frustration as well as horror. “That’s—that’s Otyla there. The cleric who handled my dedication ceremony, who could have vouched for me. Of course she’d have resisted… And now she’s gone.”
The scourge sorcerers have screwed over the royal family even more than they know.
I swallow a curse and squeeze her arm to bring her attention back to me. “Was there anyone else at the temple who was involved—who’d be able to confirm that Prince Dunstam didn’t die, only became Princess Petra?”
She shakes her head. “Father kept it as quiet as possible. No one knew except him, Mother, my brother and sister, and Otyla. Although Lothar may have started to suspect after seeing that I was brought along with the rest of the family to Regica.”
