Page 78 of A Door in the Dark
“They thrive on cruelty,” her mother noted.
“It is cruel,” Ren agreed. “And rather clever.”
The other funeral would be in honor of Avy Williams, Cora Marrin, and Timmons Devine. Having no bodies to bury, the families wished to scatter symbolic ashes at sea. The service would be in the Seaside Chapel, down on the beaches that were due south of their city’s famed harbor. The two locations couldn’t have been farther apart.
Landwin had arranged it this way deliberately, knowing Ren would not be able to attend both. If she attended the Seaside service, she would effectively be rejecting Theo’s invitation. It was an effort by the Broods to plant doubt in Theo’s mind. Look at how she failed to support you in a time of need. She might be your priority, but you are not her priority, are you? Even if Theo dismissed their claims, it would be a starting point for undermining their bond.
The alternative was to miss her best friend’s funeral. As well as the funerals of Cora and Avy. Ren knew how much she owed them all. She was here because they were not. It would dishonor their lives, their sacrifices. Her presence at their funeral was the least she owed them.
Landwin was presenting Ren with a challenge, and there was nothing she liked more than a challenge. She set the letter aside and looked at her mother.
“I think I know what to do.”
* * *
On the morning of the funerals, she stood before the mirror in her mother’s room and began wrapping herself in the finest mourning dress she’d been able to find. It was a lot like the outfit Timmons had worn to Theo’s party. Designed so that the shoulders looked more like armor than fabric. She’d also purchased a delicate black hat, from which a veil draped down to partially obscure her face. Ren slid her mother’s bracelet over her wrist and adjusted the sleeves.
Her mother was waiting in the kitchen, fussing over a cup of tea. Ren halted at the sight of her. She wore the same black dress she’d worn all those years ago. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. She was the same size and height, had maintained the same figure. But the image of her now—and the memory of her then—drew Ren across the room. She wrapped her mother in a hug from behind. She wanted to tell her that vengeance was coming. The man who’d ruined their lives was finally within reach. It would not be long now. Where the city’s justice had failed them, Ren would not. Instead of speaking those prophecies aloud, she kissed her mother’s cheek and handed her a candle.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.”
It was well before sunrise.
Ren set out for a funeral.
* * *
Ren knew she’d set foot in a much wealthier neighborhood when she spotted the livestone gargoyle prowling the roof of Safe Harbor’s monastery. There was only enough light to make out the slumped shoulders and the pointed ears as the creature climbed the bell tower to get a better view of the city it had been charged to protect.
Except for the priests, Ren was the first one to arrive. Candles glinted beneath sprawling stained-glass windows. There was a rendering of a historical event in each one. She saw the first Delveans who’d sailed to this continent in search of the land where dragons lived. It was the only image that offered a nod to Old Delvea. Everything else centered on the founding of their pristine city. She spied the four famous ships that had sailed up the coast. Another window showed the discovery of the underground magical vein that had made Kathor such a powerhouse. There were depictions of crucial battles, duels, and inventions. Even the Broods’ arranged marriage with the Graylantians—which effectively sealed the Accords—was rendered within the beautiful glass tapestry. Based on the stories they’d chosen—the grand scope of man-made heroism—Ren guessed this was where the wealthiest people in the city came to worship themselves on holy days.
It was such a massive building that she’d only managed to walk the left wing before a priest came forward to greet her. “May I help you, dear?”
“I’m here to pray,” she said. “Before the funeral.”
He nodded solemnly in return. “There are candles available in the front alcove, if you’d like to light one in honor of our dear Clyde. He was such a talented young man. Always left an impression on the people he met. How did you know him?”
Always left an impression, she thought. Yes, I daresay I’ll never forget him.
“We were classmates. A candle. I think I would like that. If you’d excuse me.”
He swept away. Ren followed his gesture to the glinting display, tucked in a room adjacent to the main hall. There were candles already lit by other parishioners, many that had burned through the night. Some to honor the lost. Others to mark new beginnings. Ren had never found any comfort in the practice, but it did provide the perfect cover for her own plan.
She waited until the nearest priest’s back was turned, then removed a waxway candle from inside her dress. She tipped the wick to the nearest flame. It caught, dancing across in a brief slash of light. Ren moved deeper into the recess. Hidden in the very back corner was a looming door that led to the women’s restroom.
Ren considered the space. There was a window with a deep sill. She eyed each of the stalls, every nook and corner, before deciding the window was the best location. She positioned the candle there, trying to make it look like an intentional decoration. When she was satisfied with her work, she returned to the entrance and carefully memorized the details of the room.
For visualization. If you cannot see yourself somewhere, you cannot possibly travel there.
Back in the main hall, attendees trickled through the front doors. It was still early. Ren took her seat, expression hidden behind her veil, and waited for the Broods to arrive. There was a gloomy shuffle near the front of the cathedral as a group of paladins ferried Clyde’s casket to the front platform. Ren knew there was no body inside. She and Theo had left his corpse on the bridge. Burned beyond recognition. The thought still sent a shiver down her neck.
Some of the city’s wealthiest citizens began making their way down the aisles. The Graylantians came first. Every single one of them went to light candles in the same alcove Ren had visited. She could hear them actually whispering mourning prayers as they passed where she sat. Ren knew they’d originated north of Kathor. They were one of the first Delvean families to heavily intermarry with the Tusk. But it was their pact with the Broods that had elevated them to royalty at the turn of the century. At least they hadn’t completely abandoned the more religious side of their ancestry.
She spied the viceroy, flanked by guards, taking a seat in the front row. The grand emissary filed in after him. All the Shiverians came next—marked by their hawk insignias and disinterested expressions. Ren was watching another noble house make their entrance when she felt the slightest onrush of adrenaline. She knew she was not the source. It was pressing across her bond with Theo.
The Broods had arrived.
She spotted Landwin Brood leading them through the entrance. His gold hair verged on white. His suit was so crisp that it looked like it had been stitched together that day. Her vision of him at the back of the monastery briefly merged with memory. Ren remembered him at the back of her own father’s funeral. She’d thought it was such a kindness that this stranger—the only stranger who’d called for help on the bridge—would attend her father’s funeral. It had felt like such an honor when he stopped by her father’s casket and whispered a quiet word.
