Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,68

to what that might be?

“I can barely see through the fog this country has cast, child. You have plunged yourself into the dark where the monsters dwell; now you must fight them off before you’re consumed.”

Holy speech whispered through her head and she moved to disassemble the spells woven through the walls. She couldn’t take them apart completely—someone would notice, precautions in place—she was just making them fuzzy, bleeding them out. She dulled them so any information imparted back to the mages who set them would appear mundane.

Nadya liked taking spells apart, casting magic that wasn’t flashy or dangerous. She had been trained for destructive magic—for spells that would turn the tide of battle—but she liked doing smaller things most.

She looked up at the ceiling. “I didn’t realize how much they idolized the Vultures.” I didn’t realize just what Malachiasz had run from.

Parijahan sat down on the chaise, letting her calm spread into the room and wear down Nadya’s frazzled nerves. The Akolan girl had a knack for commanding attention then slipping away without notice. She was so closed and careful, from the way she bound her hair back into a tight braid to how she kept her sleeves always down to her wrists, her skirt hems brushing the ground. Nadya wondered if she had always been this way, or if this was a product of losing her sister and turning her back on her home.

Nadya placed Malachiasz’s spell book on the table and sat down next to Parijahan.

“What happens now?”

Parijahan tugged off the leather strip tying her braid and ran her hands through her hair. “We’ve snuck in right as the gates were closing. Tomorrow the entire affair begins.”

“I don’t like that we’ve split from the boys.”

Parijahan nudged her shoulder. “I think we can handle ourselves.”

“Clearly.” She grew quiet, still eyeing the painting on the ceiling. “Do you regret leaving your home? The time you spent in Kalyazin couldn’t have been comfortable.”

“Not regret, no. Having Rashid with me helped. I’ve known him my whole life. And we crashed into Malachiasz about six months ago after getting into trouble with some off-duty Kalyazi soldiers. Rashid ended up unconscious in a ditch; Malachiasz nearly had his hair shorn off and spent the entire next day after we got to safety panicking over the close call.”

Nadya giggled. Parijahan gently turned her so she could undo her braid as well from where it was spiraled around the back of her head like a crown. Nadya was quiet as Parijahan combed her hair out with her fingers.

“Do you think we can actually do this?”

Parijahan’s hands stilled. Nadya felt her fingers curl over her shoulders.

“We have to.”

Her tone made Nadya’s spine straighten. She has some other stake in this I haven’t heard yet, Nadya thought. Something other than revenge.

“Then we will.”

19

NADEZHDA

LAPTEVA

Myesta, the goddess of the moon, is deceit and deception and an ever-changing illusion of light in an eternal darkness.

—Codex of the Divine, 15:29

Nadya clutched Malachiasz’s spell book against her chest and regretted every single decision she had ever made that had led her to this point.

“Relax,” Parijahan said. “They’re only dresses.”

Nadya let out a strained whimper in response. Any one of the dresses in front of her was worth more than what would feed the monastery for five years. Rich fabrics in vibrant colors, pearls and gemstone beadwork spilled over the bodices and onto the skirts. Vague impressions of flowers were prominent amidst the glittering finery. The headdresses made Nadya’s neck ache just looking at them. Some were tall, some looked like floral wreaths—though they were made from fabric and lace and beads—some vaguely resembled the kokoshniks Nadya knew nobles wore in Kalyazin.

“Where did these come from?” Nadya asked.

“Officially? You have a wealthy Akolan patron.”

Nadya glanced at Parijahan, who grinned at her.

“I guess unofficially that is also the case.”

They eventually landed on a dress the color of midnight, close to black but flashing deep blue in the light. It was like slipping darkness over Nadya’s skin, with just enough light to keep her from being consumed. Next she chose an ornate headdress that spilled strings of black pearls. Nadya fastened on a slim mask that only covered a strip of her face.

Parijahan stepped back with a nod.

Nadya reached for a delicate belt for her spell book before changing her mind and taking Malachiasz’s instead. Instead of looking out of place, the worn leather seemed to fit over the rich dress.

She looked like a blood mage. She swallowed hard, hands fumbling for Kostya’s necklace. She