I think back to Gaven’s confession. “Do you think it’s odd that Vardek has never blessed another person from the city with holy fire?”
“Doyouthink it’s weird that Vardek hasn’t blessed someone else at the fort with holy fire?” she counters.
“We have a considerably smaller population. It’s improbable that there wouldn’t be a single one in Lunameade.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “You don’t know that. The Divine work in mysterious ways, or so I’m told.”
“I do know.” I was not supposed to tell her that yet, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
She crosses her arms, searching my face, as if trying to spot a lie. “Why should I believe you? All you do is lie. You weren’t trying to hunt down Rochelli for the rebel attack that hurt your mother at the engagement dinner. You’re working with him.”
I run a hand through my hair and try to salvage this. “Technically, I wasn’t aware that we were working with him then, and that attack was orchestrated by a group of rogue rebels—not under his direction. When we were in Lunameade and I stole that note from you and dropped it in the fire, it was because I recognized the handwriting as my father’s.”
She doesn’t react, but I have her full attention, so I press on.
“Until then, I didn’t know for sure that they were working with Rochelli and the rebels. But that confirmed it, and when we got back, I confronted them.”
“Your father is Rochelli?”
I can’t tell her that Gaven told me about the Vardek-blessed children right after I dealt him a death blow. I need to lie and lie believably. “No. He’s in the network but not their leader. Apparently, all correspondence from rebel agents is signed by Rochelli, but with a lowercase r. The correspondence from the leader Rochelli is uppercase. But he has it on good authority from someone in the network who would know for certain that your father had anyone with holy fire killed.”
I wait for her to doubt me, to debate the merits of this information, but she looks resigned to its validity—more disappointed than surprised.
“I never personally witnessed a blessing from Vardek. I should have been more suspicious of the infrequency, but I so rarely attended blessings. My older siblings used to rotate through, but Kellan took over doing most of them a couple years ago. Of course, my family has ways of making people forget things…” She shrugs.
It’s the first hint of any of her siblings’ magic that she’s offered up. I can’t tell if she just means Kellan’s manipulation or if she’s suggesting one of the Carrenwells can erase memories.
Harlow is so calm. “But even if new blessings come in time, it will be years before a teenager can control their holy fire enough to light the whole wall. My father is an unfortunate necessity.”
“Not if you’re using well water. You must notice that we only light the fort wall every other night.”
Harlow’s eyes light up, and she nods.
“We supplement with well water and coat our weapons in it.”
“And that’s enough?” Harlow frowns. “Wait—don’t distract me. Do your parents know who Rochelli is?”
I shake my head. “No, they don’t know. I’m not trying to distract you. I’m just saying that holy fire isn’t the only way to defend the city walls, especially if your father is killing anyone who could have the chance of replacing him.”
She blows out a heavy sigh. “Who would you suggest rule over Lunameade, then? Rafe? If he’s Rochelli, what do you think happens when he takes over? You saw him. He’s much worse than my parents, which is saying something.”
I hold up my hands to brace against her frustration. “I know that. I have no love for the man, but right now I’m focused on this new information about your father.”
“What are you looking for? Permission to hate him?” She laughs bitterly. “Permission granted, Henry! Get in line. You’ll find it’s quite a long one.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Rest assured I hate him fine, whether you permit me to or not. What I’m asking is that if the opportunity presents itself to find a way around your father, will you stand in my way?”
She crosses her arms and looks away, but she says nothing.
Bells sound outside. I’m out of time to make peace with her for now.
I clear my throat. “It’s time for?—”
“The luncheon with the ladies of the fort,” she says. “I know. Why do you think I’m dressed like this?”
“To make me suffer.”
She hums and smiles wickedly. As she stands, Kyrin flops over onto her feet and whines.
