Nukpana lifted his arms so a scarlet sash could be wrapped around his waist. “As a reward for all of his valuable information, I’m allowing Carnades Silvanus the honor of dispatching one of the sacrifices. He feels that it is fitting—and I agree—that he be allowed to perform a sacrifice himself. It will also show my subjects that even though he is an elf, Magus Silvanus is a valued partner. Carnades selected Paladin Eiliesor, and I’ve granted his request. He asked for the nightingale as well, but I refused him.” He turned to the guards. “Leave us.”

Sarad Nukpana approached me again. “I have an intense dislike for leaving what I believe are called loose ends. Without your cunning, Piaras Rivalin would not have escaped death that night in Mermeia; even that magnificent voice of his would not have saved him. Thanks to you, he escaped and has lived to cause me no end of trouble, nearly as much as you yourself.” The goblin leaned in to me, his lips soft against my ear. “You will have to tell me what it feels like to have your nightingale’s soul pulled through you as the last of his life’s blood washes over the Saghred. Not only to watch, but to share in his death, then to feel his soul struggle in vain, imprisoned for eternity in the stone.” His voice dropped to caress. “But what I most want you to share with me, through each torment and every death, is what it feels like to know with absolute certainty that there is nothing, nothing you can do to save them or yourself.”

He left me like that, shaking with terror and rage.

So much for keeping my fear from turning into mindless terror.

Chapter 20

I wasn’t standing outside the temple looking in. No, I wasn’t anywhere near that lucky. I think Lady Luck was now sunning herself on the same beach as my magic. I was just inside the front doors, my guards prepared to get me into the temple and to the altar by any means possible: kicking, screaming, carried, or all of the above. I thought I’d just walk. I could see outside, but there was no way in a very hot place my guards were about to let me do anything except look.

Not that out there was much better than in here. The temple’s doors looked out over Execution Square. The Blood Moon was rising over the Mal’Salin palace, unless Sarad Nukpana had already ordered it renamed.

The enormity of what the goblin would begin tonight with Deidre Nathrach swept over me, bringing with it a wave of nausea. Innocent people were about to be slaughtered because they chose to fight rather than surrender to the whims of a madman. The men and women now filling the temple, the sheep following Sarad Nukpana, would live but only because he allowed it. For now. When he ran out of those who had the backbone to oppose him, those sheep would find themselves herded to the slaughter. Some of them had to know it; others were in blissful denial, no doubt thinking that agreeing with everything Nukpana said or did or ordered them to do would protect them. By the time they realized otherwise, everyone who could have saved them would already be dead.

At that point, no one anywhere would be safe from Sarad Nukpana once he eventually killed me and took control of the Saghred. His ego let him believe that he would be the one in charge. I’d had the Saghred living in my head for the past three months and knew differently. Nukpana and the scores who came before him were nothing but slaves to provide for the stone’s needs while believing the stone was there to serve them. The Saghred would make Nukpana its bond servant only because it knew he would feed and use it. The rock would latch onto him like the soul-sucking parasite it was, though it couldn’t steal his sanity. Not because Sarad Nukpana was strong enough to prevent it, but because the rock couldn’t take what had never been there to begin with.

No one else was coming up the temple steps from Execution Square. Everyone who was going to be allowed inside was already there. I still held out hope that Mychael, Tam, and company were somewhere among them.

Princess Mirabai was ahead of me and surrounded by eerily silent guards in immaculate formal armor. The bride would make the big entrance; I was just the flower girl. I glanced down at the manacles encircling my wrists—okay, maybe the ring bearer.

At an unspoken signal, the temple guards around me snapped to attention, and an armored hand in the middle of my back gave me a shove to get me moving. I guess Khrynsani never used words when a shove would do. I started forward, my guards spacing themselves so that they could get their hands or weapons on me, but still giving everyone we passed a clear view of their new king’s catch of the day.

I had once been inside a cathedral in southern Pengor. The only way I had been able to see the ceiling had been to tilt my head back as far as it would go. Until this moment, it had been the largest indoor space I’d ever been in. The Khrynsani temple was no cathedral; absolutely nothing was sacred about the acts committed here. The lighting was dim enough to be comfortable to goblin eyes, but bright enough that I’d be able to see everything that happened. Sarad Nukpana probably saw to that detail personally.

The floor beneath my feet was dark and polished; I was going to guess black marble, since that seemed to be an all-encompassing decorating theme in this place. Ten gigantic columns, each ringed with huge lightglobes like bands of blue stars, rose from the floor like ancient trees. I could just make out the faint outline of arches reaching like skeletal arms toward the vaulted ceiling.

The temple was completely packed with people. There had to have been thousands of them.

I had no idea Sarad Nukpana had that many friends, or that many people who were desperate that Nukpana think they were his friends. Even if my friends were still free, what could they do against thousands of goblins and probably hundreds of Khrynsani either in the temple itself or within call, all eager to prove how loyal they were to their new king? Our plan had depended on destroying the Saghred before Nukpana began his twisted ceremony, before the place was packed with Saghred-loving goblins. How the hell could we possibly pull this off now?

I didn’t realize I had stopped until I got another shove in the back. I growled over my shoulder. The goblins I could see were either in Khrynsani robes or uniforms, goblin army uniforms, or finery that only nobility could afford. No common people were to be seen. It sucked six ways from yesterday when your enemy’s support base consisted of a kingdom’s most powerful people.

Princess Mirabai’s passing had caused a ripple. I caused something just short of a tidal wave. Gasps rolled through the crowd, and the goblins I passed drew back in fear as I walked down the aisle. I was chained and still Sarad Nukpana’s allies feared me.

Apparently Nukpana hadn’t told his new subjects that I didn’t have access to the Saghred’s magic. In a way, that made sense; it was even a good call on his part. After all, it wouldn’t be impressive to force a chained mundane to come to the altar and endure eternal torture. Nukpana was having me paraded before his subjects to show how he could defeat and control even one with powers as great as mine. That would have these people thinking that if he could do that to someone like me, someone like them would be smart to shake in their handmade boots. Though what was good for the gander might be even better for the goose. If the chance came to make a break for it, I’d much rather have people too terrified to get anywhere near me, let alone try to take me on.

If you’ve got a reputation, put it to work for you.

I held my head high, met the eyes of anyone who looked at me, and stared them down. I tossed in a contemptuous smile for good measure, a smile that said loud and clear that I was only wearing these chains because it amused me. However, I could become unamused at any moment.

With a phalanx of Khrynsani guards both in front of and behind me, I had no choice but to walk at the pace they set. These guys didn’t walk as much as process. Sarad Nukpana wanted to give his new subjects plenty of time to see what he’d caught. For the first and probably the last time, his motivation perfectly matched mine. I was in no hurry to get to where I was going.

Up ahead, Princess Mirabai stopped and turned toward a goblin couple seated in the front row. She carefully raised her veil, which wasn’t easy to do with her jeweled manacles and chain. The man stood and smiled, extending his hands to her. With the same care and precision, Mirabai spit in his face.

He must have been the father of the bride.

Mirabai calmly lowered her veil and continued her procession.

I had to admit, the girl had class.

I didn’t want to see the Saghred, especially not like this—chained, a prisoner, soon to be tortured with the deaths of those I loved until I lost my mind, my worst nightmares come to life.

The altar rose before me as we ascended the final steps.

It was empty.

My knees went weak with relief. If Mychael or Piaras had been captured, Sarad Nukpana would have had one of them chained there. The bastard had been bluffing. It was all I could do to keep from looking up and all around me for some sign that the cavalry was about to make their entrance. If they were, I didn’t want to give them away. If they weren’t, my already shaky morale could do without being kicked.

Trumpets sounded a fanfare from a gallery somewhere above our heads.

Two of my guards each put an armored hand on my shoulders, and forced me to my knees on the final step before the dais. I glanced over at Princess Mirabai. She had been permitted to remain standing but, like me, was one step below the dais.

King Sarad Nukpana entered the temple through a door to the side of the altar. I was surprised he didn’t come up the aisle to let everyone get a good look at him. I’d gotten an all-too-good look at him two hours ago, but judging from what I could see at knee level, Nukpana had added a few kingly touches to his ensemble. He was still sumptuously attired in purple and black with a scarlet sash, but had added black chest armor intricately embossed with a silver scorpion. Naturally, he now wore a crown, a silvery ring of scorpions with their tails intertwining. I wondered if he had added the armor in case some of his allies weren’t feeling as friendly as they professed to be.

Sarad Nukpana was in black; the door he came in through was black; the bloody temple was black marble—it was no wonder he needed those tin horns to let everyone know he’d arrived.