She couldn’t move.
Galt’s heavy hand between her shoulder blades pushed her forward. Her pulse quickened with each step, and when the door to the summoning room at the end of the hallway came into focus, her body couldn’t get enough air. She gasped for it, filled her lungs until they stretched to their brink, yet she wasn’t breathing at all.
“I have the sedative,” Galt murmured as Kazen reached for the door.
“No.” Kazen frowned at Sandis. “It will weaken her body. I want her alert.” His hand settled on Sandis’s shoulder. “You know how this works, dear Sandis. The more willing you are, the better the possession will be. Less pain.”
What do you know of pain? You’ve likely only acted as vessel once. No. Kazen knew more of how to inflict pain than how to feel it.
The door opened, and Galt shoved her through.
The light was red. Or was it? Sandis saw only red. The lamps along the wall seemed to blaze with the color. And the smell. It smelled like chloride lime and feces and blood, all mixed together into a suffocating perfume. The wide space was empty, save for an ox chained to the wall. Little steel half circles lined the wall and one strip of the floor, connectors for chains to leash sacrifices. Sacrifices were necessary when a numen wasn’t bound, but usually Kazen bled a simple creature. A bird or a hare.
Not enough for Kolosos. Not enough for her.
Sandis’s legs lost their strength. She fell to her knees, her collar lifting and digging into her jaw as she went.
Kazen waited patiently, his grip on the chain never easing. “Galt.”
Galt grabbed her under her arms and heaved her up. She found some semblance of balance, and suddenly she was in the back of the room, near the ox. When had she walked over here? The click of metal from her chain locking with the link bolted to the floor echoed across the expanse.
Sweat gathered in every crevice of her skin. She couldn’t breathe. Not this toxic air. Oh Celestial, save me.
Her god wouldn’t save her. No one would. Maybe . . . just maybe, she’d be strong enough to survive this. Maybe it would be no different than Ireth . . . Kolosos would take her in a flash of light, and she’d wake up later in her room and find a way to leave. She’d have to leave somehow. The destruction Kazen could do with that monster—she shuddered to imagine it. Yes, she’d leave. Break her script. She knew where Talbur was. She could— The outline of an old stain on the floor caught her attention. Heath.
He had been able to possess a seven, like her. He’d been bigger and stronger. He had died instantly.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
“The only ‘god’ you need to concern yourself with is the one about to join us, dear Sandis,” Kazen said, but there was an edge to his words. Like her oath had rankled him.
Her eyes watched his as he drew a sword from a sheath at his waist. It took her a moment to recognize it—the same blade that had slit the mare’s throat before Heath died. Kazen urged the ox forward, to the end of its own chain. It had no idea that— The sword hacked into its neck. The whites of the animal’s eyes swelled. Sandis shrieked and tried to move away, but Galt’s hands clamped down on her arms. Kazen swung the sword around so that it bit into the ox’s jugular. This time, it sliced clean through.
The ox fell, twitching, its blood readily pooling on the floor. Sandis pushed against Galt as it crept toward her, but he was unmovable. The hot blood licked the sides of her feet, then seeped under her toes.
Kazen looked pointedly at her, then at his sword. “Let her go, Galt.”
Her eyes flicked to the door.
She’d done this before she was bound to Ireth. But this time there was so much blood.
Galt released her. Stepped back. Choked.
Sandis shifted her gaze to him just as the ceremonial sword split open his neck, just like the ox’s.
She screamed and jerked away from the gruesome, wet mouth forming under Galt’s chin, only to slip and fall into the ox’s blood. She screamed again, new tears streaming down her face. Kazen released Galt’s hair and let him fall into the growing puddle, his blood mixing with the ox’s.
“No sacrifice is greater than human sacrifice,” Kazen muttered, his eyes lingering on Galt for the briefest moment. “I will make no mistakes this time.”
Sandis yanked at her chain, desperate to get away from Galt’s corpse, from the blood pooling ever closer to her. But the steel held, and when the hot, sticky liquid lapped at her legs, she sobbed.
“Stand up, Sandis.”
She tried to, if only to limit how much of her skin touched— “I said stand up.” Kazen’s fingers coiled in her hair and yanked her upright. Her feet slid in the crimson pool. Her scalp threatened to tear. She found her balance, but she shook so violently she was sure she’d collapse. She begged unconsciousness to claim her.
“H-He was your f-friend,” she whispered.
Kazen chuckled. “My friends are far more useful.” He looked over his stained sword, frowned, and tossed it onto the floor behind the corpses. Then he pinched Sandis’s hand and forced her to meet his eyes. “You’re my friend, aren’t you, Sandis?”
Tears mottled her vision. She wrenched free of his grasp, the chain tugging on her neck as she did so. “You’re a monster.”
He was nonchalant. “We’ll prove them wrong, Sandis. We’ll finally show the world the truth.”
Sandis kept her eyes on him to avoid looking at Galt, or the blood enveloping her toes. “What do you mean?”
He moved so fast his hand and sleeve blurred into gray. A silver ring on his finger bit into her cheekbone. Sandis nearly fell back into the blood.
She stared into the scarlet puddle a long moment, pain pulsating from her face.
He’d hit her. In all the years Sandis had known him, Kazen had never before struck her.
Grabbing her chin again, Kazen forced her face back to his. He inspected the damage. Sandis knew there was no blood; Kazen would never risk damaging her when he was about to fulfill his goal. He pulled a vial of water—purified water—from his coat and uncorked it. Then he dumped the stuff over her head.
Sandis tried to move away from it, but the chain held tight, and she nearly slipped. Her eyes passed over Galt, and bile rose up in her throat, burning and putrid. She tried to swallow it, but she gagged and spat it out. Shook. Fuzzy rings formed around her vision.
Kazen pressed his palm to her forehead. She shifted away, but he grabbed her hair, holding her in place.
“Vre en nestu a carnath,” he murmured.
Tears trailed down her cheeks. “Please,” she whispered, but the plea was swallowed up by the next words, uttered louder than the first.
“Ii mem entre I amar.”
Pressure built up in the sides of her neck, her shoulders. Not like Ireth’s. It felt wrong, like her spirit had solidified and was trying to escape. It pushed out, stretching her— “Vre en nestu—”
The door to the room slammed shut. A voice called, “This is disgusting.”
Sandis stopped breathing.
That voice.
That voice.
But . . . how?
Kazen whipped around so quickly he pulled several strands of hair from Sandis’s scalp. The pressure building in her neck receded. Rage flowed from Kazen like molten iron. Sandis strained to see around him.
Rone. She blinked. It couldn’t be.
Rone?
He stood just inside the door, which he’d barred with a piece of wood. Alys was wrapped up in his arms, facing them, her eyes wide with terror and focused on the blood—on Galt. Rone held a knife to her neck.
“Really,” he said. “It will take hours to clean this up.”
“You dare”—Kazen’s voice was gravel and fire—“interrupt this sacred moment?” He took a step forward. “How—”
“Uh-uh.” Rone wiggled the knife at Alys’s throat. “Stay where you are.”