Page 93 of Last Rites

Kit

My arms and shoulders ached as I drifted back to consciousness. I couldn’t feel my legs, so I shifted to make space to stretch them out until they were a flurry of hot pinpricks. Then, when feeling returned, they ached, too.

There was still no light in the dark, no way to know how much time had passed or what day it was. But, arguably rested, my mind no longer felt like a whirlwind of panic and fear. There was a veil of numb peace over everything, and it muted my dread into a dull-edged thing. It throbbed deep in the back of my mind like the last vestiges of a headache that was finally fading after days of agony.

It was almost over.

What felt like hours passed before a soft buzz broke the endless silence. I couldn’t place it until it grew louder and I recognized it as voices in a crowd, somewhere in the caves but far enough from me that I couldn’t make out specific words.

The volume grew for several minutes more, and then a hush fell again. There was light growing down the tunnel outside my cell by that point, and I tucked my knees under me and sat up straighter.

If I was going to die, I would do it with whatever dignity I had left. Head high. As stoic as my father trained me to be.

Two men appeared in the doorway. One held a torch, and the other a length of rope and a ring of keys.

“Get up,” the man with the keys said.

I shrugged my shoulders to rattle the chain securing me to the wall. “Might need some help with that.”

He scoffed and bent down to grab my arm and haul me to my feet. Once I was upright, he did the same thing Klaus had done and pinned me to the wall while he unfastened the manacles around my wrists. I expected the rope to follow, but instead he yanked me around so my back was against the wall, then bound my wrists in front of me. The knots pulled tight, coarse rope reopening scabbed over blisters, then he gripped my bicep like a vise.

Neither guard said anything further as they dragged me down the passage, but the low hum of anxiety in the back of my mind broke through again and bound my chest up until it was hard to breathe.

When we finally exited into the main chamber, there was barely space for a path through the gathered townsfolk. I scanned the faces, equal parts relieved and dismayed to see all of the resistance members present but for Thoma and Liam. I was glad they still lived, but I wished they didn’t have to bear witness to this. Some of the tension in my chest loosened when I confirmed Penny and Rosie weren’t among them, either.

Then my gaze met Isla’s, and there were tears on her cheeks. She mouthed the words, “I’m sorry,” and I thought she meant for me until her gaze darted to the front of the chamber.

My eyes followed, catching momentarily on Klaus and Violette’s bloodied bodies on the floor before what was beyond them came into focus.

Merrick stood before the Vessel’s grotesque form, lording over the sacrificial altar, but it wasn’t empty and waiting for me like it should have been. Someone was already there, and my steps faltered when I tried to make sense of who it was.

Penny.

Body prostrate, arms and legs bound.

He was supposed to be in Forstford, not here.

I spared him from this.

What had gone wrong?

The guards shoved me forward. I stumbled but kept my footing, fighting against the ropes binding me as my breath came in shallow gasps.

Merrick stepped around the altar and into my line of sight. His grin was vicious, gloating because he thought he’d won. I didn’t want to believe it, but I felt it. The loss was more poignant than ever.

“What is this?” I asked when the guards stopped me in front of the Right Hand. My voice came out small, edged with a pain that I knew I would never recover from. “What’s going on? Why is he here? This isn’t what you told me was going to happen.”

Merrick chuckled. “Isn’t it?”

“You said you were going to let Eeus pass the judgment on everyone else,” I insisted. “You said I was the final sacrifice.”

He turned away to reclaim his place behind the altar as the guards pushed me forward again.

“Funny thing,” he mused, “it turns out that the sacrifice must be willing. My half-brother here pointed out that you are not, and helpfully volunteered in your stead.”

I glanced at Penny, who was watching me with wide eyes. He didn’t look willing. He looked scared and unbearably vulnerable. He looked like he needed me.

An unhappy murmur rippled through the gathered crowd. Clearly more of them disagreed with current events that I’d expected, but a glance across the mass assured me that there were still too many who were excited at the prospect of what was about to happen.