“While it was burning me,” I continued, “a ghost tried to pull me out of my body, and something pushed it away.”
That drew Faraday’s attention. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure I can explain. There was a flash, like embers maybe? And the ghost was thrown away from me. I didn’t pay the flash much attention. I was trying to stay seated on my horse.”
“A miracle?” he asked. “You held off a ghost by the strength of your faith alone?”
There had been stories and tales of priests or clippers so devoted to Safraella or their own gods, so favored that the gods protected them from the ghosts. They could walk the dead plains at night, unmolested. Those of incredible, fervent faith—saints or those who saw the goddess herself in a vision—were sometimes granted true resurrections and brought back to life in their existing body. It hadn’t happened in hundreds of years. I scowled. “I’m no saint.”
Faraday blinked rapidly. He flipped the coin in his palm. “Do you mind if I keep this?”
I waved his question aside. “Have it. I have a pouch full of them. They’re really only worth the value of the coin.”
“To you, maybe, but to me it is apparent you had an experience with the goddess Herself, that She somehow deigned to answer your prayers. You must be very special, Lea Saldana.”
Sebastien, finished with the stitches in my shoulder, dressed the wound with a foul-smelling salve, and wrapped it tightly with white cloth. He moved on to my hand, cleaning it with another damp towel before slathering the burns with the same salve, wrapping my hand and pronouncing me mended.
“I don’t see that I’m favored by Safraella,” I responded to Faraday. “Two nights ago my whole Family was slaughtered by the Da Vias. If She loved us so, then why did She let us be destroyed?”
Faraday closed his fingers around the coin. “Yes, I can see how that would be . . . upsetting. But do you not also see how you were the sole survivor? How you escaped the slaughter of your Family?”
I shook my head.
Luck. It had been only dumb luck that had saved me.
And since everything had been my fault, the luck tasted like dry ashes in my mouth.
Brother Faraday showed me to a room. It was small, and sparsely furnished, but the bed was clean and my body sank into it. My mind, however, could find no rest.
I was surrounded by men of faith, servants of Safraella, and yet I’d never felt so alone. The pain in my shoulder and hand paled against the pain of my heart. Before, whenever I’d felt sad or lonely, I’d talk to Rafeo, who would be quick to cheer me with a joke. Or I’d find Val, who could make my body tremble with well-placed hands and lips.
But Rafeo’s voice had been silenced. And the love between Val and me had been a lie.
My shoulder ached as my thoughts plagued me, and finally, after close to an hour, I sat back up.
Someone pounded on my door, but before I had a chance to answer, Brother Faraday slipped inside, latching the door behind him. He held a robe and a wide-brimmed hat in his arms.
“Brother Faraday?”
“There’s no time,” he whispered, handing me the clothes. “The Addamos have come looking for you. Well, looking for your brother Rafeo.”
I jumped to my feet. “What?”
“Put on the robe and hat. We’re going to sneak you out. You’ll have to leave your horse—Butters, was it?—but we’ll take good care of him. The rest of your belongings have already been packed.”
“I don’t understand.” I slipped the rough wool over my head. “How did they find me so quickly?”
“They must have left at dawn to get here so soon, though I suspect they’re checking as many monasteries as they can. And they haven’t found you yet. But they might if you linger.” Faraday opened the door a crack and peeked out. He glanced over his shoulder, and after I tugged the hat in place, hiding my hair, he gestured for me to follow him.
Voices trickled around the corner of the empty hallway—Brother Sebastian arguing with someone.
Faraday held up a hand and we ducked into an alcove. I clutched my key around my neck and listened carefully.
It wasn’t an argument, it was an interrogation from an Addamo clipper.
“He had to have stopped here,” the clipper’s voice echoed.
“I’m sorry, Brother, but no man called on us last night.”
The front door to the monastery opened, and another Addamo walked in. Faraday and I pressed our backs against the wall of the alcove.
“There’s a palomino stallion in the stables, well-bred,” the new clipper announced. “Could be the same one he was riding.”
“Well?” the first Addamo asked Sebastien.
I chanced a look. Sebastien bowed his head. “The horse wandered onto our land this morning. He had no tack to identify his owner. We are planning to keep him until his owner claims him. It is only right, considering how finely bred he is.”
“It’s awfully convenient.”