The Way We Fall

Chapter 87 (Roche)

"Ala."

"Do not ignore me."

"You must heed my warnings, many await your actions."

"Ala, Ala, Ala-"

Roche shot upright in her bed, Circe's voice thrumming through her mind. She pushed away the wisps of the Striga, curling her knees up to her chest as her heart pounded.

It had been a few days since the tournament had ended. The real Sir Harold was working with the king and the royal heirs to determine exactly who was responsible for the copy's appearance. The king was adamant that it was the work of a single inkblood and had increased the number of burnings that had occurred. The city was filled with the scent of smoke and burning flesh as Sir Harold led the Tigris and a patrol of knights to the cave he'd been imprisoned with, only to find it collapsed.

The king had been infuriated. Even now, he was stringing up pyre after pyre, restless after the attack to his children. Some of the people being burned were charged by nobility, eager to gain the king's favour. Most of the victims had no inkblood in their veins, simply were not of Faultless descent or simply had the misfortune of being 'disrespectful' by existing near the nobles.

It didn't matter to the king, he was too enraged to care about anything. And Tigris was far too busy with tending to Finn. By the time Tigris had got around to interrogating the nobles, it had been too late and most of the victims had been burned already.

Roche squeezed her eyes shut, fighting a wave of terror and grief. She'd kept her inkblood bottled tight within her. It was a special kind of torture to walk through Tigris' room and wipe the windows, seeing squirming bodies on a pyre charged for the very crime Roche was committing: having inkblood. It was worse that Roche was rather likely to be accused by some irritated noble who saw her still as an Irulian maid who'd weaseled her way into the castle. For the time being, she'd kept herself scarce by hiding out in Tigris' chambers and the library.

Still, she wished there was something that she could do for those being burned like candle wicks everyday.

Roche sagged back against the wall, trying to force air into her chest. Her skin was slick with sweat. A worried voice sliced through her panic like a blade.

"She's getting stronger."

Roche nearly fell out of her bed at Verita's soft remark. Light bled into her room from the crack under her door. It was evening, and Roche had gone to bed early, hoping to get some rest. She'd been under the impression that Verita would be sleeping as well.

But her mentor was evidently not snoring away.

"You shouldn't worry," Leinos' voice seeped through the thin door, comforting the librarian, "She's a strong girl."

Roche crept out of her bed, cracking her door open to peer out of the antechamber. Verita and Leinos sat close to each other in the main. The librarian's face was creased with worry. She fiddled with a lit candle, perilously balanced between stacks of texts.

"I know she is, but Romulus is furious." Verita confessed, drawing her worried gaze up to her ex-husband, "If he even suspects Roche, he won't hesitate to burn her. With her inkblood strengthening, he might notice. He's like a bloodhound when it comes to inkblood."

A small thrill of fear ran through Roche at the words. She watched Leinos lean forward.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked, "Do you want to send Roche back to Elena?"

"We can't." Verita bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, "It's not safe for her in Brikui anymore. But there must be somewhere she can go, somewhere where the Council and the king won't find her."