Brave the Tempest (Cassie Palme) - Karen Chance Page 0,155

she was dead,” Lizzie said, talking about Jo. Because she was the reason Lizzie was stuck in limbo. “They told me you killed her.”

“I killed her body. But we both know that doesn’t end it.”

“So go chase her! What the hell do you want with me? I’ve told you everything I know!”

Lizzie shoved limp, blond, unwashed hair out of her face. She’d had a common sort of prettiness once, but it didn’t look like she’d enjoyed her time with the Circle. Dark shadows ringed bloodshot blue eyes, like maybe the drugs they kept her on to keep her from accessing her power didn’t allow proper sleep. Her face was also gaunter than I remembered, and her shoulder blades, always prominent, looked like they were trying to tear through her too pale skin.

I felt a stab of pity. Because awful as she was, she hadn’t gotten there on her own. In another time, in a different court, without the gods interfering and the other acolytes egging her on, Lizzie would have been . . .

A loser. A not very bright, easily led, vindictive little loser, but a more or less harmless one. She never would have been Pythia, but she probably wouldn’t be in there, either. Shivering in a thin nightdress on a hard cot, wondering about her fate.

Which a smarter woman would already have known.

“Jo doesn’t give a shit about me,” Lizzie said, after a moment. When she remembered that she was supposed to be trying to manipulate me. “She wouldn’t risk a trip to the Badlands to rescue me, not when I’d only be competition anyway. And at least I wouldn’t have these bastards staring at me all day.”

She glared at someone out of view, probably one of her guards. Because the Circle was being very careful with her. Having protected the Pythian Court for centuries, they knew exactly what a trained acolyte could do. Her dosage of the drugs they were using to fuzz her mind would never be late.

But what did that leave? Lizzie was a young woman, probably not even as old as me. Was she supposed to just stay in there, indefinitely, a drugged-out prisoner?

I wouldn’t want that.

I would prefer almost anything to that.

But this wasn’t about me.

“Cat got your tongue?” Lizzie sneered. “Did you come to talk about moving me, or what? Because I have nothing left to tell—”

“I’m not moving you,” I told her flatly. “I can’t take that risk.”

Lizzie’s face changed—not to shock or sadness, as I’d expected. But to rage. She’d obviously been putting all her hopes on that idea, and the fact that a new, clueless Pythia might be stupid enough to make that mistake.

Not stupid enough, Lizzie, I thought, as she called me every name in the book.

I almost wished I was.

Because I didn’t want to deal with this. I desperately didn’t. But even a not-so-bright Pythian acolyte was a terrible threat to the timeline, especially when she had nothing left to lose.

“So that’s it?” she yelled. “You’re just going to leave me here, with them? Do you know who I am, who my family is? Do you know what they’ll do—”

“They won’t do anything. We already contacted them,” I said, which finally shut her up.

“You did?” The face was still red, but the small blue eyes had suddenly gone huge. She sprang off the bed, before remembering that she couldn’t go anywhere without permission.

The Circle had her shackled in place.

“Let her go,” I told one of the guards, who put an old-fashioned key in an old-fashioned lock. A moment later, Lizzie was off the bed and practically pressing her nose against the mirror on her side.

“Who did you talk to? When did you—”

“Your father, a week ago.”

“A week? What did he say? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because I didn’t want to face this, I thought.

“He said . . .” I swallowed and remembered the hard-faced man in the plush green study. It had been very old-world, very rich, very pompous—like its owner. He’d been a paunchy, middle-aged windbag who thought the world revolved around him because his family had been a leading voice in the Circle for centuries. He’d actually thought his daughter was going to be Pythia one day. He hadn’t been pleased to learn that he was wrong.

“He said you became part of the Pythian Court when he sent you there,” I told her. “He said that you’re our problem now.”

Lizzie didn’t immediately say anything, but her face was eloquent. And this time, there was sadness