Ru lifted a hand and knocked softly.
A moment later, the door flew open, and Gwyneth stood blinking, dumbfounded, at Ru. “Ru! We’ve been so worried, thank god you’re—” her eyes narrowed. “What on earth are you wearing?”
“A disguise for Prayer,” said Ru, holding up the remaining robes. “Come on, get dressed or we’ll miss it. Is Archie here?”
“Yes, hello,” Archie said from where he lounged in an armchair by the fire. He reminded Ru of a cat, suspiciously eyeing the white robes as she unfurled them, yet not moving from his warm spot by the fire.
“You want me towearone of those things?” he said, watching Gwyneth as she pulled the robes over her clothes and fastened the tie belt.
Gwyneth gave him a withering look. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you expecting Prayer to be a fashion show? Put it on.”
She hurled the third robe at Archie, who caught it with a grimace. “It’s just that I’ll feel like a prick.”
“How do you think we feel?” Ru said, pulling her cap on. “Hurry, we’re going to miss the procession.”
In their disguises at last, the three friends bundled into the cramped servants’ corridor. They made their way, breathless, toward the corridor where Ru and Lord D’Luc had seen the procession of Children on their way to Prayer.
“So what are we looking for, exactly?” Archie asked as they walked.
“Anything, really,” Ru said. “Lady Bellenet will be using her magic to change people, I’m sure of it. If we can see how she does it, we can try to extrapolate how to counter her power. It’s possible we might even be able to drain her of it altogether, like Taryel’s. Her powermusthave limits, and I mean to find out what those are.”
“Easy enough,” Archie said sarcastically.
“I have a good feeling about this,” said Gwyneth, and Ru was grateful for her optimism.
When they finally came to the door that was supposed to open onto the procession corridor, Ru paused, checking her hat to make sure it was securely in place. Then she opened the door a crack, peering out. There they were, the Children, walking in single file with their backs to Ru.
“Right, let’s go,” Ru murmured. Then she glanced back at her friends. “Don’t forget to look… empty inside.”
Gwyneth and Archie nodded, checking that their robes were pristine. And then, when Ru was sure no courtiers were looking, and no guards were in view, she slipped into the hallway and went to join the procession of Children. They fell in line easily. None of the Children turned to glance at them, no questioning stares were aimed their way.
It was an eerie sensation, drifting reverently through the palace with a stream of Children. It made the hairs on Ru’s neck stand on end. They were hardly human anymore; they were ghosts, husks of what had once been laughing, feeling people. And now they were devoid of emotion, the vivacity of life. Forever.
Soon, the procession came to a courtyard, the Children all flowing out into the frosted grass like a ghostly river. They filed into an old chapel in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by cold-bitten foliage and a few skeletal trees, their branches blackened with frost. Candles lined a stone pathway to thebuilding, its facade shining angelically, all white stone and spires soaring upward. It was lit from within, and Ru could hear the strains of a lonely melody drifting outward. Ru recognized the chapel as a historical fixture, once visited by the spiritual members of court, now tainted by Lady Bellenet and her Children.
In a few breathless moments, they were inside the chapel, surrounded by Children. Ru’s stomach was in knots, her heart thrumming with nerves. They stood in a small lobby, from which Children were filing into the chapel beyond. Ru caught a glimpse of myriad candles and row upon row of white robes within.
“This way,” she hissed, motioning for her friends to follow. Instead of going with the rest of the Children, they turned sharply to the left, where a narrow staircase curved upward, leading to what Ru imagined must be a balcony. They traipsed up the stairs one after another, robes swishing in the dim light.
As Ru had guessed, they found themselves on a small balcony lined with pews, so dark in contrast to the lower level that nobody looking up would be able to see them in the gloom. Ru moved down toward the front of the balcony, hoping to more clearly see what was happening below. She waved a hand, beckoning Gwyneth and Archie.
The balcony was empty but for them. When they were all close enough to the edge of the balcony, Ru lowered herself into one of the pews to watch.
At first, it appeared to be nothing more than a religious service. Such gatherings had been waning in popularity for more than a century in Navenie, so Ru had never attended one. But she had read about them, had stood in the ruins of ancient temples, pressed her palms to their stones. This chapel spoke of a rich history of deity worship, its walls painted with colorful murals of angelic figures, men and women with frothing wings bursting forth from clouds, images of death and rebirth.
Ru was entranced by the colors and the light — candles were strewn on every surface, from stained glass windows to the chapel’s center aisle, to the dais at the head of the room, upon which stood a glowing golden throne.
It was unlike any throne Ru had ever seen, far larger and more opulent than the regent’s or even the king’s, and it appeared to be entirely encrusted with gold. It was all organic curves and whorls, as if its makers had somehow frozen and gilded billowing smoke. At the throne’s apex, the smoke-like whirls of gold gave way to a series of spikes, reaching up to the ceiling like rays of sunlight. Or a crown.
And seated on the throne was Lady Bellenet.
Ethereal notes from an unseen harp sang alongside a low prayer that emanated from those gathered in the pews below. Every seat was taken by a figure in white, heads bowed, each of them reciting the same chant Lady Bellenet had recited in the throne room, what felt like so long ago.
Together, we will discover the mysteries of the universe. We will journey together to paradise. You only have to choose it. You must simply give in to the will of your god.
She leaned toward Gwyneth, who had seated herself next to Ru, watching the quiet spectacle. “Who does she represent in all of this? Some kind of high priestess?”
“High rubbish, if you ask me,” came Archie’s hushed reply from the other side of Gwyneth.
