“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Ru said, dread winding its way through her and suffocating logic. “Hugon loves you. He told me. You say your heart has no anchor, but it does. The man is utterly devoted to you. The happiness you seek, you can have it. Here. Now. With him. You don’t have to do any of this.”
Lady Bellenet’s ice-cold wall did not melt despite Ru’s desperate efforts. She only smiled, an empty quirk of the mouth. “Don’t patronize me with this nonsense,” she spat. “There is no love left in Hugon D’Luc’s heart. He is driven by fear and selfishness alone. A coward.”
“You’re going to kill people. You’vealreadykilled people.” Ru's words came out as a half-sob.
Lady Bellenet’s eyes flashed. “Kill? You think the Children are dead? For a scientist, your mind seems unable to grasp anything but the smallest concepts. After the Cleansing, Festra’s true followers will not die. They will journey to the Isle of the Sun and through the gates of paradise. The gates thatyouwill open.”
“You’re deranged,” Ru said, her common sense long since fled.
“You’re the hand of a god,” said Lady Bellenet, her eyes wild. “What you say means nothing. You’re a conduit. A tool.”
“I can’t,” Ru said, voice breaking against the words. “I can’t do it, even if I wanted to. I’vetried.”
“You have not tried.” Lady Bellenet’s voice was growing deeper, wilder, as if each word were tearing at her esophagus, flung violently at Ru like a bludgeoning weapon. “Hugon has admitted to being lax with you, Delara. He does not understand you like I do. He didn’t see you at the Shattered City, the way you fell in love with Festra’s heart, the power you wield. A god’s power. He never understood the darkness in you.”
The lady seemed to grow taller as she spoke, as if a stormcloud were building around her figure.
“What darkness?” Ru said, almost flinching away.
Lady Bellenet took a step toward Ru, her gaze growing less human by the second. “The artifact responds to your innermost desires,” she intoned. “The deepest, most hidden wants. All you need to do is let go, Delara. Give in. Accept that nothing you can do will stop me; nothing you can say will put an end to Festra’s Cleansing. Accept that you are nothing without Festra.Thisis what you were born for.” The lady pressed a hand to her chest. “To serve me, and by extension, Festra.”
“You’re mad,” Ru said as rage boiled inside her.
“Lyrren Briar,” said Lady Bellenet, “pledged his soul to Festra for you. Foryou.”
“Because he had no choice,” Ru said, choked with anguish. “Because you would have hurt me or my friends. He was loyal tome.” She nearly doubled over with the pain of remembering that last image of Lyr, kneeling before Lady Bellenet. “You’re a monster,” Ru breathed. “Everything you do is for yourself. For power.”
But Lady Bellenet loomed before Ru then, holding up a hand, her eyes flashing like a vengeful goddess. Ru bit her tongue, but it was far too late. She had gone too far, miles and miles past the limit.Strike me down then,she thought.Bless me like you blessed Lyr and all those people at your party.See how well I use the artifact then.
But the lady only twisted her mouth, an ugly grimace of rage. And then, in an instant, her eyes softened. Her mouth curled into a serene smile and she seemed to diminish in height. “I thought you might say something like that,” she said.
Ru’s heart slammed in her chest. She watched as Lady Bellenet went to a door at the other end of the room, flinging it open. From within, three forms emerged. Lyr came first, escorting Gwyneth and Archie. The two friends held hands, their heads held high, defiant, their faces unflinching.
No,thought Ru, and her knees nearly buckled beneath her.Not this.
She didn’t need to ask what they were doing here. She knew — they were here to die.
CHAPTER 37
“Kneel,” said Lady Bellenet, when the pair of academics came to stand before her, Lyr at their heels. Lady Bellenet spoke with the voice of a queen, a woman who would not be disobeyed.
Gwyneth and Archie stared, clearly frightened and confused. Ru thought she saw Archie brush a thumb across Gwyneth’s hand, an intimate and soothing gesture.
Ru began to crumble.
“I beg your pardon,” Archie said. “You want me to kneel in my best trousers?”
Tears streamed down Gwyneth’s cheeks. “You don’t have to do anything, Ru,” she said. “No matter what happens to us… Don’t let her get to you.”
“No,” said Ru, panic hastening her words. “You don’t need to… Lady Bellenet, bring the artifact. You’ve pushed me enough. I’ll stop resisting.”
“No need,” Archie cut in. “Don’t worry about us, Ru. We’ve got everything handled, as you can see.” His freckles were dark against a paling face; even his sarcasm fell flat, limp, and impotent.
If Ru had been a better person, she thought, more accomplished, more competent, she might have lunged for Lyr’s weapon and wrested it from him. She might have driven the blade through Lady Bellenet’s heart, twisted it deep, reveled in the strength it took to cut through bone and sinew and organ meat. She would have savored the crack of bone, the rush of last breaths, the spurt of blood.
But just like before, when Lyr had knelt before Lady Bellenet, Ru couldn’t bring herself to fight in the way that her loved ones needed. Because she was not that person. She’d never even held a sword. She was only Ru Delara.
“Please,” she croaked helplessly, realizing then that she, like Gwyneth, was crying. “I’ll do anything. Anything.”
