So she dawdled long enough to give Apollius plenty of head start, then bolted up the stairs.
As soon as her door closed, Alie pulled out the ring and hurriedover to her window, throwing back the curtain. The sun was over halfway in the sky now, and Alie held up the ring so the morning light blazed through the heart of the gold-tinged diamond.
And… nothing.
The inside of the diamond glowed beautifully. She could see the facets where the stone had been cut and polished and nestled into its setting. But there was no map of any kind, and when she twisted it back and forth, no helpful beams of light shot out. There was nothing to suggest this was anything more than a normal, albeit very beautiful, piece of jewelry.
“Shit,” Alie murmured.
Studying the diamond, turning it over in her hands with increasing desperation, made her think of Brigitte. Her friend who dabbled in jewelry, who’d been the first to notice that Lore’s ring was Mount-mined.
And thinking of Brigitte made her remember that she was supposed to have breakfast with her this morning.
“Shit,” she murmured again, and ran for her closet.
She and Brigitte had tried to be very intentional about their friendship, after what happened with Dani. Bri and Dani had always been closer than Alie and Dani were, so Bri took Dani’s sentencing much harder. Alie knew that Brigitte still wasn’t sure how to feel about her best friend being sent to the Burnt Isles. There was no way she could understand the necessity without knowing everything else. So many times, Alie had come close to telling her, but when it came down to it, she just didn’t have the language to explain the nuances. And Brigitte had been brought up in the Church, just like Alie. Maybe she’d think that Lore should have died. Maybe she’d think Apollius was right.
Alie had so few people left. She couldn’t risk that.
Her eyes were gummy and her throat felt scoured, her bed calling out to her. Alie ignored it, dressing herself and starting down the hall.
The apartment Bri shared with her parents and brother was one floor down from Alie, much larger than the one she lived in on her own. She’d always been equal parts jealous and confused by the close relationship Brigitte had with her family. Parents who loved each other and their children unconditionally were a foreign concept. She was ashamed of how it made her suspicious, but Alie had never experienced a familial love not fringed by enough strings to hang yourself with.
Bri opened the door when she knocked, her locs worn long down her back, a dressing gown closed over her chemise. She yawned, smiled. “Apologies for not being dressed. I didn’t want to.”
Alie laughed and hugged her friend. A small table was set up in the sitting room behind her, pastries and a pot of fragrant tea. Bruneau, Brigitte’s brother, grabbed one of the cakes as he hurried across the room, throwing Alie a wave. He was in a similar state of undress and similarly unbothered by it, wearing only his chest binder and a pair of loose trousers.
They settled at the table, Bri pouring Alie tea. “Maybe I should send for coffee instead. You look exhausted.”
“I’m not sleeping well.”
Bri pressed her lips together, nervously playing with the end of one of her locs. “Wedding preparations?”
They’d only spoken of this once. Right after Lore was sent to the Burnt Isles, right after Alie’s true parentage was revealed and she was betrothed to Jax. Brigitte had encouraged her to fight against it if this wasn’t what she wanted. It’d made Alie want to laugh and cry at the same time. Her friend had no concept of being forced by family into things she didn’t want.
So Alie lied. Alie made it sound like she’d come around to the idea of marrying Jax. Because unless they managed to somehow repair the Fount and banish Apollius from Bastian’s body, she really had no choice, and she didn’t have the energy to perform defiance.
Alie nodded over the rim of her mug. “The date has moved up. I requested it.”
“From the King,” Brigitte added. A doorway into another conversation, one that hung around the Citadel like fog on the morning ocean. “From Apollius.”
As far as Alie knew, Brigitte’s family wasn’t any more religious than your average courtier, well-versed in the steps of piety without really believing. But people had reacted to Apollius’s reveal in ways that weren’t commensurate with Alie’s knowledge of their devoutness. Avery Marmont, who had told her when they were children that he didn’t think any of the gods actually existed, had been seen silently weeping in front of the statue on the green. Yvonne Gilliard, another childhood friend, had asked her if she wanted to be part of a prayer circle she was starting every morning at dawn in the North Sanctuary.
She had to tread lightly here. “Yes,” she said quietly. “From Apollius.”
Brigitte frowned down into her tea. “You know,” she murmured, low as a secret, “I’m not sure if I believe it.”
Alie gnawed her bottom lip.
With a sigh, Bri sat back, looking at the windows instead of Alie. “Maybe that’s not the right way to put it. It’s not that I don’t believe He’s Apollius—I mean, the alternative is that Bastian is pretending to be a god, and I don’t see that happening. But I don’t—” She tapped her lacquered nails on her teacup, searching for words. “I don’t think this is… good.”
Relief was a flood, so palpable Alie almost slumped over in her seat. Part of her wanted to tell Bri everything, try to explain the entire debacle, but she just settled on “Me neither.”
That seemed to relieve Bri, too. She nodded enthusiastically. “All our lives, we were taught to believe that Apollius was coming back. That His return would bring a new, perfect world. And we never got specifics, I guess, but I assumed a perfect worldwould be one free of war. One where people weren’t hungry.” She shrugged self-consciously. “You know, I think most of this newfound piety is people being afraid. We have proof of the Shining Realm now. Everyone wants to be allowed in.” She looked to Alie. “Does He talk about it? The Shining Realm?”
He didn’t. Apollius had never mentioned it, not as a reward for those who were sufficiently worshipful, or as the place He’d bided time waiting for Bastian. Alie shook her head.
Bri glanced away again at the full light of morning in the windows. “I wish He would,” she said softly.
