realized she didn’t know she was being chased. She just wanted to be alone.
His dagger still sheathed, Aaron stepped around the corner of the bin and saw Delius’s daughter.
She sat with her back to the wall, her head buried in her knees, arms wrapped around her legs. Tears wet her dress and face. Her eyes were closed. Aaron could hardly believe what he saw. She was praying.
“Please, Ashhur,” he heard her say. “Please, please, oh god, please…”
He drew the dagger, never making a sound. His hand trembled as he held it. She would by no means be his first kill. All his victims flashed before his eyes, from assassins to guards to his own brother. All had been armed. All had lived a violent life. This girl had done nothing. Nothing. Gods damn it all, how could he kill her while she was praying? Praying!
Her eyes had still not opened. He had a chance. He had a choice. Kayla’s words flashed through his head.
…you must keep Haern hidden and safe. Keep him alive. Can you do that for me?
If he killed the girl, he’d be killing the part of him that he called Haern. The part that could love Kayla. The part that wasn’t wholly enmeshed with his father.
Aaron sheathed the dagger and stepped back out of sight. He leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the refuse bin. A soft sigh escaped his lips, unheard through her sobs. His eyes lifted to the sky, and there he saw Kayla watching him from the rooftops.
His heart leapt in his chest. His legs turned to water. How long had she watched? Had she even known his task in the bloody affair?
As if in answer, she blew him a kiss and then leapt away.
“Please, Ashhur, please give him back,” he heard the girl beg. “Ashhur, please, I can’t, I can’t…”
He ran, unable to listen to any more.
12
Veliana wondered what James would think if he saw her like this. Her eyes were blindfolded by one of Eliora’s wraps. She detected the faintest hint of sweat on it. She kept her hands at her sides, thankfully they weren’t tied. Eliora didn’t seem worried that she’d run off, but she had insisted quite strongly that she not. She had sworn her life to the faceless. If she tried to leave, her life would be forfeit, for it was no longer hers. It was Karak’s.
It seemed appropriate enough, so she thanked Karak that the streets were so empty. At least, they sounded empty. Eliora rushed her along at dizzying speed. If the other faceless women were nearby, she wasn’t aware of them.
Veliana’s knowledge of the streets was superb. With every turn she tracked where they were. A few times she had to guess, and the speed in which they hurried was no help, but no matter the twists and loops they made, she was certain they had traveled into the northeastern district.
They stopped. A gate rattled. Eliora yanked the cloth from Veliana’s eyes to let her see. Before her towered the temple to Karak, impressive with its black-marble and rows of pillars. Through a trick of her eyes, she swore she saw the lion skull hanging above the door turn and rattle its teeth.
“Welcome to their home,” Eliora said.
The doors opened. They were ushered in by a young man with a pock-marked face. Once inside the main foyer, the priest left them in between the rows of pews arranged before the giant statue of Karak. Veliana looked around as subtly as she could, doing her best to look unimpressed. In truth, the praying men unnerved her, their ululations stretching too loud and too long. The very air seemed thick with energy. It felt like magic.
“Who have we come to speak with?” Veliana asked.
“For matters of such importance, we must speak with the high priest. His name is Pelarak, and the name he carries is a great honor, given by Karak himself when he ascended to his position.” Eliora gestured about the room. “Every man here would throw himself upon a sword to protect Pelarak’s life. Do not fight him, and do not argue, even if he kills me.”
“Kills you?”
“Hush,” said Eliora. “He approaches.”
An elder man approach from the front of the temple, having just prayed with a young, overweight acolyte. He wiped away a few tears from his eyes and then smiled at Eliora. By the chains he wore, and the way every other priest turned their head and nodded in reverence as he