“You could have just ordered him out of the room,” I pointed out. “He is one of your postulants.”
“And let our stomach go wanting?” He shuddered before returning to the conversation at hand. “So you’ve seen a deathshead.”
I nodded miserably.
“Then what are you doing here in our temple?” Calamité asked. “Shouldn’t you be swathed in black? Mourning your king’s end?”
“I’m going to kill him,” I protested. “I just haven’t had the chance.”
“Obviously,” he said with a smirk.
“Something seems to be troubling you,” Félicité observed.
“Well…yes. He’s the king. If I am caught…if someoneshould even suspect me…they won’t understand my calling. It would be seen as an assassination.”
“Itisan assassination.” Calamité blinked, studying me. “You’re a clever girl, I suppose,” he admitted, most begrudgingly. “There is any number of ways to ensure your act of treason goes unseen.”
My stomach flipped. Why must he call it that? “There’s also the matter of the oracle.”
“Whose oracle?” Félicité asked. “Surely not one of ours.”
I shook my head. “She’s from the Ivory Temple, one of the Holy First’s reverents. She told the palace to bring me to court.” I sighed, unsure how to articulate my concerns about Margaux. “She sees the Holy First’s visions, yes? Isn’t that how oracles work?” The gods shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. “Won’t she see my intention? Won’t she try to stop me? She has been shown thatIam the one who will save the king. If I return to the palace with a different goal, I feel like she’ll…” I trailed off as another thought occurred to me. “She saw the vision of me saving the king. That is what brought me to court. So…doesn’t that mean that I’m supposed to save the king? If that’s what the Holy First showed her, then…” My head ached, jumbled by all the possibilities. I felt like I was speaking in circles. “Who is right in this—the deathshead or the Holy First?”
Calamité tapped one of his fingers against their chin. “You’re thinking too much like a mortal. The Holy First knows all, she sees all—not just in this moment but inallmoments—so she already knew you would see the deathshead, and that by sending her vision to this oracle, she was actually bringing you to court precisely to kill the king.”
I sighed, feeling hopelessly deflated.
Félicité squinted at me. “There are so many worries behindyour eyes, little one. What makes this kill so much harder than the others?”
I shrugged. “I…I understand the purpose of the deathshead—I’m meant to take one life to prevent many others from being ruined. But the king…” I released a shaky breath. “His is such a biglife.”
Calamité rolled his eye at my sentiment. “No one life is greater or lesser than any other. In the end, all mortals are dust.”
“In the end, yes,” I admitted. “My godfather comes for all. But before that…there are so many lives that the king has the power to affect. To protect. And with this war…” I trailed off, everything I wanted to express too large to be articulated. “I met my nieces today. Here, at the temple. I didn’t even know I had nieces, but they’re here. Orphaned. Their mothers—my sisters—are dead.”
“I suppose you want me to apologize for that?” Calamité said, looking exceptionally put out.
“No, but it got me thinking…if the king weren’t sick, how many of these orphans would be here? If I could find a cure for the Shivers, a cure for him, he could stop this war, keep his subjects safe. He could prevent so many other children from ending up like my nieces.”
Félicité frowned. “It’s a noble thought, I suppose. But a pointless one. You’ve been given a task—just like reading all those books so many years ago. Carry it out.”
I pushed my hair back, tucking the loose strands behind my ears. “But…what if that task is wrong? Who determines that it’s right?”
“Your godfather, I’d suspect,” Calamité deadpanned, as if it were obvious.
I hadn’t wanted him to say that. “But what if Merrick is wrong?”
“A god is never wrong.” Even Félicité was beginning to sound annoyed.
“But more people will die if the king does than if he lives. Right? It seems so logical, don’t you think?”
“We don’t think,” came the gods’ reply, dozens of voices speaking in unison, as loud as a droning beehive. “We only know.”
“Then you ought to know if I’m right,” I snapped.
Félicité wrested herself away from her holy collective. “What is it you want from us, Hazel? What can we do to make this easier?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer. When all was said and done, whatdidI want?
