As the last words left her mouth, a triple ribbon comprising the three colors of providence twirled down Sábria’s arm, crossed their joined hands and flowed up to Neba’s elbow. Everyone except Sábria and Neba fell on their faces.

  As the colors disappeared and the ribbon receded, Neba sank to her knees before her Arch Priestess. Awe shone in her eyes as she looked up at the woman who was the Voice of her Goddess. With a shaking voice, she reaffirmed her service to Elyon. “Please allow me to remain in Elyon’s service as a Blade, Milady. And fergive me fer doubtin’ ya.”

  Sábria smiled down at her. “You’re forgiven, Neba, and I hope you forgive me as well for not taking more care of you and my other Hunters.” She pulled her to her feet, and when Neba blushed, Sábria pulled her into her arms and whispered in her ear, “You’re as important to me as a Blade as you were a Hunter, Neba. Always remember that.” When she released her, Neba nodded and Sábria glanced around at everyone lying prone on the room’s large decorative rug. “Would you all please get up and take your seats?”

  Secretly, Sábria found it interesting that the Goddess had decided to make herself known before Geirin decided what she intended to do. She hated the worshipful and fearful looks people gave her after Elyon made her presence known, but she accepted them from her Hunters with only a slight wince since she understood how necessary it was to bring them back into the fold. “Geirin?”

  Geirin scowled beneath a set of thick, heavy brows. She was a square-faced woman whose natural countenance was dark and menacing. The room was silent as everyone watched the one woman they believed would forsake the Blades altogether. When she finally looked up at Sábria, some of the anger was gone from her eyes. “I never turned me back on Elyon.” Her gaze locked onto Sábria. “Never.” She waited for Sábria to acknowledge that fact, which she did with a nod.

  Holding her arms out to her sides, Geirin shook her head. “Look at me, at this thick body what’s built fer fightin’. I’ll always fight fer th’ Goddess, whether ye’ll have me or no. I can’t say I don’t hate the Blades, but, I can say I won’t attack none no more. That were wrong, attackin’ one of th’ Goddess’s shivs. But don’t expect me to love none of ya, neither. Aye, I’m a fowkin’ Blade what loves her Goddess.”

  Sábria nodded again. “It’s a start, Geirin, and I’ll take it. We’ll move forward from there.” She had the three women who were to spend time at Magistrate’s court swear on their oaths to Elyon that they wouldn’t try to run. The day had proven exhausting, physically and emotionally. With the most critical part of her business done, Sábria excused them all and, along with Shirin, went to tend to last-minute details before they headed home in the morning.

  CHAPTER 21

  Once they were safely back at the Temple, and after making sure the prisoners were settled and her injured Blades taken care of, Sábria had no sooner settled into her office in the Citadel when Shirin stepped in. “Subcommander Calit and Magistrate Fiyori to see you, My Lady.”

  Squinting up at her second, Sábria let her mouth drop open in exasperation. “Shirin, I haven’t been here long enough to warm my chair’s seat cushion, and you’re telling me I already have two people who need to see me? Now?”

  “I asked them to come back, but Fiyori insisted. She doesn’t look pleased.”

  The echoes of Ailith’s famous, “fowk,” rolled around in Sábria’s head. Tilting her head back and closing her eyes momentarily, she simply said, “Show them in.”

  In a few moments, Shirin ushered the two women into the room. “Justina. Calit. I trust there were no problems while we were away? I mean, we were only gone for a total of eight days. What could possibly happen in that short amount of time?” She was being sarcastic, mostly because she didn’t want to have to deal with whatever had these two looking so stressed.

  Fiyori ignored the sarcasm and answered with a stiff set to her shoulders. “Hunter Falla was found dead in her cell two days ago. We believe poison was somehow smuggled into her food. An investigation is underway as to how that might have happened.”

  Calit added, “We didn’t know when you’d return, so we sent her into the arms of the Goddess yesterday.”

  Remembering the letter she’d read from Lord Chilton to Renly, Sábria sat in silence, staring at the back wall but seeing nothing. Her rage was so acute that the man had orchestrated the death of one of her Blades that her mind had skittered to a halt.

  With a worried glance at Shirin, Fiyori wasn’t sure how to react to the utter stillness that had come over their Arch Priestess.

  Shirin moved forward and whispered in Calit’s ear. “Step out into the hall and wait. No one comes in.”

  With a relieved nod, Calit rose and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

  They sat in silence until Sábria slowly retrieved her saddlebag, pulled out the packet Maida had found, and handed it to Fiyori. To Shirin, she said, “Explain everything to her.”

  Her deadly monotone wasn’t lost on either woman, and for the next half-candlemark, Shirin spoke while Fiyori read and reread the letters. When Shirin finished giving the details of all they’d learned over the last several days, Jestína stood and pulled herself to her considerable height.

  Typically, the Magistrate answered to the Arch Priestess, but in this instance—a matter of justice—she assumed the full authority of her office. “Bring Renly to a cell in Magistrate’s Court immediately.” Tucking the packet under her arm, she swept out of the room.

  Sábria glanced at Shirin and nodded. When her second left the room to have Renly transferred, Sábria slowly walked to her door and locked it. Lowering herself into a prone position, she did something she’d only done a handful of times in all the turns she’d been the Voice of Elyon. Most times, Elyon would appear of her own accord. This time, Sábria called upon her Goddess, asking her to appear in her human form. When even the sounds of the songbirds in the courtyard stilled, she knew her supplication had been answered.

  “Stand, My Heart.”

  When Sábria raised her head, she saw her beloved Elyon standing before her in a flowing gown of iridescent blue—the Goddess’s color of revenge. Pushing to her feet, Sábria stood and bowed her head.

  “Ask your question.”

  She raised her gaze and looked directly into Elyon’s eyes, which perfectly matched the color of her gown. “Did you take Falla into your arms?”

  “No.”

  The answer was like a hammer driven into her gut. “She was a good Blade for a while.”

  “No. She was not.”

  Sábria looked into Elyon’s eyes. “How long?” She wasn’t sure what she was asking. How long had she been corrupt? How long ago had the plot been conceived? How long had three of her nobles been planning to destroy her Blades?

  That one look told her the answer to every one of those questions. Falla hadn’t joined the Blades to serve the Goddess. She’d inserted herself into the Temple to further a group of petty noblemen’s plans to destroy the Blades. But, despite the fact that Falla had betrayed her, the Arch Priestess in her couldn’t get past the fact that she’d been one of her own.

  “Only a fool grieves for the traitor sewing poison among her people, and you’re no fool, Sábria.”

  “I’m not grieving, but I can’t let the murder of one of mine go, either. Neither can I let a plot as damning as the one those three noblemen devised go unchallenged. I demand the Right of Revenge.” Sábria’s eyes were a determined, glacial blue.

  They stared into one another’s eyes while the Goddess considered her request. For the first time, Sábria thought she saw doubt and even a hint of worry behind those terrible, beautiful eyes.

  Finally, the Goddess relented. “It’s yours. Fight well, Sábria, because, as you know, once I erect the ring around you, I may not help in any way.” With those parting words, Elyon was gone.

  Sábria had never invoked the Right before, but with all that had happened, she couldn’t let the treasonous actions of the three lords go unchallenged, nor, on a more personal note, would she let the intentional killing of one of her Blades go unpunished, traitor or no. She knew in her heart that Aloric had been involved in some way, but, regretfully, she had no proof and couldn’t include him in the challenge without it.

  Shirin, Geller, and Calit were speaking among themselves in the Inner Courtyard when she emerged from the Citadel wearing the ceremonial uniform depicting the vengeful warrior aspect of her Goddess. Shirin’s brows pulled down low in concern when she saw what Sábria was wearing.

  The entire uniform, including the tunic and trews, knee-high boots, and all of her leather, was dyed a deep, cerulean blue. The only part of the uniform that wasn’t ceremonial was her sword, which she practiced with in some form or another every single day. The tunic was thicker and longer than usual for greater protection and was split up the sides from mid-thigh to waist to allow for ease of movement. Of course, it bore the Crest of Elyon—a white/gold figure of a woman’s muscular body holding a sword of twirled red and yellow in one hand and the blue mace of revenge in the other.

  The head of this aspect of the Goddess differed from that which was usually on the crest. In the crest above the throne and above the gate leading into the Temple, a blue, snarling beast was looking to the left, while the loving aspect of a red mother bear looked to the right.

  The only head on the uniform Sábria had chosen was the blue snarling beast of revenge. Sábria strode up to Sela, who was standing next to the archway leading into the Citadel’s gardens, waiting for her orders. “Run and tell Master Fiyori to prepare for the Right of Revenge. Tell her to issue a warrant commanding Lords Chilton, Renly, and Bathton to appear in the Magistrate’s courtyard in one candlemark. Have her send enough of the Magistrate’s Guards to ensure their compliance.”

  Sela brought her fist to her chest and ran to the tunnels leading to Magistrate’s Court.

  With two more steps, Sábria stood next to one of the Temple bells. She rang it three times, paused, and rang it twice more. She waited for a count of ten and repeated the sequence. Within a quarter candlemark, all the Blades who weren’t working a shift or tending to other critical duties had assembled in rows in the middle of the Inner Courtyard.

  Despite well over two hundred fifty Blades standing at attention, the yard was silent. The Hunters stood as a cluster within the Blades, and even the civilians had stopped what they’d been doing and were standing in front of the dining hall in a formation of their own.

  Sábria, who’d rung the bell and then retreated to wait alone in the Sanctum’s gardens, strode to the tower’s steps and climbed to the top, where she could see everyone clearly. Looking out over the concentric half circles of Blades and civilians alike, a wave of pride washed over her. These were her people, and she’d fight to the death, if necessary, to protect them. “Some of you, probably most of you, by now, have heard about the way some Blades and some civilians were manipulated into beating and humiliating the members of one of our elite units, the Hunters. When we discovered what was happening, we rode out to find several Hunters surrounded by close to one hundred warriors intending to slaughter our people. They were led by Lord Renly.”

  Still, no one moved or said a word. Everyone understood this was a historic moment for the Daughters of Elyon. None had ever seen their Arch Priestess in the uniform of revenge, and they watched her now with a deep-seated pride that went beyond simply belonging to the greatest fighting force in the Cibían Empire. They’d follow this woman into the depths of the underworld if she called on them to and would gladly sacrifice their lives for hers.

  “When we arrived, Hunter Maida stole into the middle of their encampment, went straight into Lord Renly’s tent, and brought back proof of what three of the realm’s lords had done. That she could get in and get out without being seen is a testament to the skills of the Hunters. We discovered that Hunter Falla was the inside person engineering the hatred and animosity that would eventually split the Hunters off from the Blades. She whispered poison into certain ears, knowing the insidious lies would spread.”

  She stared into the eyes of her people. “But they’re not separate. Despite all that was done to them, they’re Blades who served their Goddess to the best of their abilities. Despite all, they hunted for our sisters who were hurting badly enough to want to kill themselves.” She shouted loud enough that everyone would hear. “Do you hear me? Hunters are still Blades!”

  To Sábria’s surprise and the obvious shock of the fourteen Hunters standing in their small group, the entire Blade contingent along with all of the civilians raised their fists in the air and shouted, “Hunters! Hunters! Hunters!” three times, indicating their support for the women who’d gone through the depths of darkness and had come out the other side.

  Sábria bit back tears as she looked over and saw the shocked looks on the Hunter’s faces. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and continued. “What you may not know is that Falla was murdered in her cell two days ago. Poisoned. While you may think ‘good riddance,’ I don’t see it that way. Yes, she would have paid for her crimes, but it’s up to me and Magistrate Fiyori to hand down those sentences, not to a band of noblemen hoping to cover up their treasonous crimes.”

  Sábria saw the anger rightfully placed on Falla change to an understanding of why her murder couldn’t go unavenged. Good. They needed to understand. “For that reason, I’m calling a Right of Revenge against the three lords.”

  That set up a round of murmuring among the Blades, and Prime Geller shouted, “Oi. Shut it!” Everyone immediately quieted.

  “I want every Blade and every civilian from this Temple packed into the courtyard and Magistrates Court. You need to witness what happens to traitors who dare move against Elyon. Once I step into the circle with the three lords, Elyon will erect a blue circle of flame around us. No one may enter or leave the circle until either I’m dead or all of those vermin-infested lords are lying dead at my feet.” She caught and held Shirin’s gaze. “Know that I love each and every one of you with all My Heart. Now, go put on your dress uniforms and meet me at Magistrate’s Court. Dismissed.”

  Shirin turned away and hurried into the Sanctum, but not before Sábria saw the tears falling from her eyes. “Elyon, if this doesn’t go as planned, watch over her. Watch over all of them for me. Please.” She was surprised when Ailith walked up the steps with Ty by her side.

  “Milady. Ty doesn’t ken what’s happenin’, and, to be honest, neither do I. But I think ya should talk to her, explain, like, while I translate, aye?”

  The worried look in Ty’s eyes told Sábria that she knew something drastic was about to happen. With a nod, Sábria explained to her daughter what might happen, that she could lose the mother she’d just found if things went horribly wrong. She believed it would be better for Ty to be prepared than for her to watch her mother possibly die and not understand what was so important that she’d risk her life to uphold the tenets of the Daughters of Elyon.

  When Ailith finished translating, Ty stared into her eyes and then did something she’d only done once or twice in the short time they’d been with one another. She wrapped her arms around Sábria, held her close, and then growled something in Sábria’s ear. Stepping back, she waited for Ailith to translate.

  “She said,” Ailith cocked her head while she tried to put into words the last part, which was, in reality, a Dreyuthan saying. “I’m no sure exactly how to say it one fer one, ya ken? But the long an’ short of it is, ‘Ya better no fowkin’ die, or I’ll come to th’ afterlife and kill ya meself.’” With a nod for what she thought was an excellent translation, Ailith stepped back and grinned. “Goes double fer me, too, Milady.”

  Sábria couldn’t help it. With all that had happened in the past full moon, she put her head back and laughed until the tears fell. Pulling the two young women into her arms, Sábria held them close and then pushed them away. “Elyon is on my side, and I will survive lead my people.” She put her hand behind both women’s necks. “I will survive to love the two of you the way you deserve to be loved.” She released her hold. “Now. Go dress in your finest. And I’ll see you after the Right of Revenge.”

  CHAPTER 22

  The populace of Cibía was alerted to something monumental happening when nearly the entire population of the Temple filed into the courtyard of Magistrate’s Court wearing dress uniforms or the finest clothes the civilians owned. The courtyard wasn’t nearly as big as the Temple’s, but it was large enough to accommodate all Sábria’s people, plus members of the nobility and a few merchants.

  After receiving word from his people in the city, Lord Dunham arrived as the Emperor’s representative. He had no clue what was happening but knew enough that he needed to be there in his official capacity as Lord Seneschal. As he pushed to the front of the crowd, he was shocked to see Lords Chilton, Renly, and Bathton standing in the middle of the yard under the watchful eyes of several Magistrate’s Guards.

  The women’s uniforms were different from those worn by the other Blades. Instead of black, their tunics were green, symbolizing justice. The Magistrate’s Guards were yet another arm of the Blades, women dedicated to protecting the Magistrate, guarding prisoners, and keeping order in the courtroom.

  Since the crowd was comprised of Blades and nobles, only a subdued murmuring filled the walled-in yard. From outside the front gates, shouts of “Oi, what’s happenin’ inside?” and “What th’ fowk’s goin’ on?” could be heard echoing off the cobbled streets.

  Everyone quieted when Master Fiyori stepped from the allure—a wide pathway running the circumference of the top of the wall and out onto a brick platform jutting into the courtyard. The platform had been built specifically for this reason, allowing the speaker to be heard from any part of the bailey.