‘Not.’
‘ – but the only way out is through.’ Loren seemed to be reassuring himself more than Felix. He tugged off his veil to reveal a wary indent at the corner of his bow-shaped mouth. ‘You didn’t stumble into the temple by accident. What drew you here?’
Felix paused tying the bandages to stare in disbelief. ‘I don’t know wherehereis. Tell me that much, and maybe we can work out the rest.’
‘You ran in. I assumed you knew.’
‘Humour me.’
‘This is the Temple of Isis.’
Felix swore.
He travelled a lot. It was part of the game, how he stayed alive. He’d been in cities with a dozen temples, villages with a single shrine, towns in between. The world was vast and full of gods and ways to worship. But one thing remained consistent in all his travels: those who followed Isis were always south of normal.
Loren sniffed. ‘I don’t want to know what you mean by that.’
‘The followers of Isis are cannibals.’
‘Yes, that’s why I brought you bandages. We like our dinner unspoiled.’ He glared. ‘We’re not cannibals, but you are part of a ritual. The others didn’t explain it. To me, at least. Something about virgin blood—’
‘I’m not a virgin,’ Felix cut in.
Watching Loren blush without his veil was even more satisfying,an all-consuming reaction, spreading down his thin face and painting the long column of his neck. But for Felix, satisfaction came with a twinge of irritation. Whowasthis boy? Every thought, every feeling that crossed Loren’s mind, he seemed to share with the world, intentionally or not.
Felix marvelled at it. Hated it. Envied it.
‘Not inthatway,’ Loren said. ‘Virgin as in your blood has never been part of a ritual for Isis before.’
‘That’s not what it means.’
‘Is so. Look.’ He flopped onto the chaise, jostling the bowl of grapes in a way that gave Felix the shape of an escape plan. Loren extended his arm, pointing to the pale X of a scar in the crease of his elbow. ‘That’s why they can’t use me this time.’
‘Are you a virgin, then? The other kind.’ Felix plastered on his best shit-eating grin, and the rest panned out perfectly.
Loren jolted back, as though he’d only just realised how close they were sitting. The sudden action sent the bowl flying. The dish clattered and cracked against the tile, and grapes scattered across the room, rolling in every direction. Loren, apologising to no one, lunged to clean the mess, and Felix took the distraction as his cue.
Castor, surveying from atop a wobbly stool, shot Felix a look that said,Nice going, idiot.
Felix hissed. Castor zipped away.
Standing was a clumsy gamble, but Felix only needed to stay upright until he had reclaimed the helmet and escaped the city. He might risk recovering his sandals, but screw going back to the statesman’s house for his satchel. Whatever happened there, whatever fit the statesman had sent him into before the quake struck . . . Felix didn’t want to think about that. Thinking brokeallhis rules.
Freedom would feel damned good. Holding the helmet again would feel even better.
Grapes squishing underfoot, Felix staggered to the door and burst outside.
‘Wait!’Loren cried, but Felix wasn’t stopping for anything, let alone some naive, indignant temple boy. He lurched toward the temple’s courtyard, dizziness forcing him to brace against the wall, breathing shallow.
‘Mm, this is not happening,’ a woman’s voice said from behind. Felix jumped, but before he could bolt, she slammed him to his knees.
Not for the first time that day. Humiliating.
Felix glanced back at his latest attacker. Shorter and a few years older than he was, she had an upturned nose and hair cropped in an awkward bob. Her veil hung below her chin. In the doorway stood Loren, stunned betrayal casting him even more naive and indignant than Felix thought possible. With Loren’s hair so long and hers so short, they looked a pair of fools. Felix wondered who they were trying to impress, or if the conditions for joining the Temple of Isis included a bad haircut.
‘Loren, bind him,’ she said, and a moment passed before Loren stepped forward, dropping handfuls of loose grapes. Soft fabric wrapped around Felix’s wrists. ‘Why didn’t you say he was awake?’
The pinch of Loren’s mouth tightened.
