It was coming from even farther into the old woods, in a copse of hazel and oak. I crept forward to investigate. Most likely it was the groundskeeper. If not, and it was some trespasser, I could easily sneak away without being seen, and report it. Again, I knew Mistress Masterson and my grandmother would have a lot to say about this reasoning, but I didn’t care.
Clutching my holly boughs and knife, I crept forward, keeping to the shadows and concealment of the trees. As I drew closer, I saw that there were actually twelve lights: tiny lanterns in the snow, arranged in a diamond formation in a clearing canopied by the skeletal branches of ancient trees. Standing in the middle of the diamond, facing the most venerable of oaks, was a man in a billowing greatcoat that glowed scarlet in the lantern light. He knelt down, facing the diamond’s eastern point, and bowed to it, murmuring something I couldn’t make out. Then he knelt to the south and repeated the ritual.
Terror filled the pit of my stomach as I realized what was happening. I’d dismissed Tamsin’s joking comments about Alanzans and Midwinter, but here, before my very eyes, was one of those heretics conducting some arcane ritual in the night. I might not know as much about them as Mira, but I’d learned enough from whispered conversations in Osfro to know that the diamond made of twelve points was sacred to the Alanzans. It represented the twelve angels, six light and six dark.
A heretic is using our lands! I needed to get back and report it. Quietly, I started to retreat, just as he turned toward the northern point—facing me. It illuminated his face, revealing features I knew. Features I’d seen less than an hour ago. Features I’d spent far too much time contemplating.
Cedric.
Chapter 8
In my shock, the holly slipped from my arms. I attempted to recover it—covertly—but it was too late. I’d already made too much noise and alerted him to my presence. He shot to his feet, and I considered running but knew I wouldn’t get far in these skirts. In a moment, he was before me, staring down in disbelief.
“Adelaide? What are you doing out here?”
“Me? What are you— Never mind. I know what you’re doing!” I backed up, swinging my small knife. “Stay away from me!”
“Put that down before you hurt someone.” There was a hard set to his face, not angry . . . just resigned. “It’s not what you think.”
The words were so ludicrous, it drew me up short in my retreat. “Oh? Are you saying you’re not in the middle of a heretical Midwinter ritual?”
He sighed. “No. I’m saying the Alanzans aren’t whatever bloodthirsty creatures you’ve been told we are.”
The use of “we” wasn’t lost on me. “But . . . but you’re saying you’re one of them?”
He took a long time in answering. A chill wind blew, ruffling my hair and freezing my skin. “Yes.”
The world seemed to sway around me. Cedric Thorn had just admitted to being a heretic.
He reached toward me. “I mean it. Will you please put that down?”
“Don’t touch me!” I said, brandishing the knife higher. Behind him, the lanterns glowed with a sinister light, and I suddenly wondered if he was going to attempt some Alanzan curse on me. I’d heard plenty about them but never expected to be the victim of one. But then, I’d never really been in this situation before with someone I thought I knew. I wondered if anyone in the house would hear me if I screamed.
“Do not scream,” said Cedric, anticipating me. “I swear, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Everything’s the same. I’m the same.”
I shook my head and felt the knife tremble in my hand. “That’s not true. You believe in communing with demons—”
“I believe the six wayward angels are every bit as holy as the six glorious ones. They aren’t demons. And I believe divinity is all around us in the natural world, free to anyone,” he said calmly. “Not something only accessible through the priests in their churches.”
It sounded less sinister when he put it like that, but I’d had too many warnings drilled into me.
“Adelaide, you know me. I covered for you when you ran away. I got your old cook a job. Do you really think I’m some servant of darkness?”
“No,” I said, lowering the knife at last. “But . . . but . . . you’re confused. You need to stop this. Stop . . . um, being a heretic.”
“It’s not something I can just stop being. It’s part of me.”
“They could kill you if you’re caught!”
“I know. Believe me, I’m well aware of that. And it’s something I’ve long come to terms with.” I shivered as another icy wind passed over us. He looked me over, his face turning incredulous. “Come on, let’s talk somewhere warmer before you get hypothermia.”
“Like the drawing room?” I asked. “I’m sure your dangerous and illegal beliefs will make compelling conversation back at the party! We’re not going anywhere until I understand what’s going on. I’m fine. I put on a cloak.”
“Then why are you turning blue?”