While Ollie and Liam worked to strip the intricate layers of armor from Owainâs body, Jocelynn helped to steady Ashlynn as she climbed the steps onto the dais. Yet, as determined as she was to help her sister, she hesitated at the idea of approaching the throne that even now carried a dark and menacing aura.
"It wonât hurt you, Jocey," Ashlynn promised. "Iâll keep you safe from it, I promise. But I need to see it, and to feel it, if Iâm going to free people from it."
"Ash," Jocelynn said softly. "Are you really... really a saintess?" Had her family been wrong the entire time about her sister? Had they mistaken a sign of greatness for a sign of something wicked and shut her away from the world because they didnât really know?
The questions piled up in Jocelynnâs mind one after the next, but an even greater one burned in her heart. If she hadnât said anything to Owain, and Ashlynnâs mark identified her as a Saintess instead of as a Witch, how many things would have been different?
If she hadnât been so jealous and cruel, betraying Ashlynn and condemning her to die, could her saintess sister have put a stop to Owain Lothianâs evil before it got so out of hand?
"I donât like that word," Ashlynn admitted quietly. "It doesnât mean what... It doesnât matter," she said, shaking her head and interrupting herself before she said things that shouldnât be said in a place with so many ears.
"Right now, what matters is doing something about that throne," Ashlynn said firmly. "Something only I can do. The rest, Iâll explain to you when weâre alone," she promised.
"All right," Jocelynn said, accepting the clear boundary that Ashlynn had drawn. No matter how much she wanted to know more, or how uneasy her heart was, she knew that she had no right to demand further answers... And her sister was likely right. The throne was an evil thing, and if her sister could destroy it, then it had to be done.
"High Priest Aubin," Ashlynn said, nodding her head to the kneeling, white-haired priest. "Ignatious," she called, glancing back toward the people on her side of the Great Hall. "This throne was crafted by High Priest Leon Lothianâs hands as a âmiracleâ of the Church. Iâll need your help to end it cleanly."
Aubinâs face burned with shame as Saintess Ashlynn publicly admitted what he had come to suspect while praying for the dark and twisted throne to release its victims. The throne was no work of witchcraft, but a sacred relic crafted by men of his own faith for purposes that were too dark and twisted to contemplate.
Aubin hadnât realized that Leon Lothian had a hand in its making, but it hardly surprised him. Who else in the Churchâs storied history could have placed such a thing at the heart of Lothian power? Who would have dared to?
"How can we help, your Dominion?" Ignatious said formally as he strode onto the dais. Already, he could hear more and more whispers spreading through the Great Hall after Ashlynnâs latest statement.
Cracks were beginning to form in the peopleâs faith. That could be a good thing, or a terrible one if they didnât act with care. People who defined themselves on the basis of their faith became brittle once they could no longer rely on the beliefs that had given their lives meaning and purpose, and Ignatious knew all too well how difficult it was to rebuild after that structure collapsed.
For most of the lords and ladies in the hall, they would survive whatever revelations came next relatively unchanged. But for some, like Baroness Tosha or even High Priest Aubin, it was a different matter entirely.
"Iâm worried about Samira and her child," Ashlynn said quietly as she looked from Ignatious and Aubin to the Lothian throne. "She renounced Owain, but the child in her belly still carries the Lothian bloodline. If destroying the throne will harm the child," Ashlynn said, stopping short of finishing the sentence, but she hardly needed to say the rest.
"The fruit of a poisonous tree cannot be eaten," Aubin recited with a horrified look on his face as he turned to look at the heavily pregnant woman sitting next to Isabell and Lady Ashlynnâs companions. "It must be burned along with the roots and branches, so that its seeds are destroyed, and no evil may sprout from it," he said, finishing the passage.
"This, this is the Inquisitionâs teaching," Aubin said, looking at Ignatious with trembling eyes. "This is why your order hardens itself to destroy whole families," he said, clenching his bony fingers into a tight fist. "Because, if she gives birth to wickedness...."
"Stop there, Brother Aubin," Ignatious said, holding up a hand before the aging priest could say anything further. "No harm will come to Lady Samira or her child. Lady Ashlynn has promised it, and she does not break her promises. Our struggle is to find a way to keep that promise, not to help betray it."
"But, the âcurseâ of the throne," Aubin said. "The dark miracle that gave birth to its evil, itâs bound to the Lothian bloodline. Her child carries that bloodline, and this is something that cannot be changed..."
"No fate is inescapable, High Priest Aubin," Ashlynn said. "I know that better than most. I intend to destroy this throne and the bindings between it and the Lothian line. I just need to know how to do that without harming Samiraâs child. If I have to, Iâll wait until the child is born..."
"No, do it now," Ignatious said decisively. "Iâm not a guide, Iâm far from an expert, but Aspakos has helped me to understand a number of things, and one of the important ones is this: A childâs stars are fixed in the sky on the night that they are born, but not before."
"Whatever fate was bound to this throne," Ignatious explained. "It shouldnât have anything to do with the child before theyâre born. So, whatever youâre going to do, I suggest you do it now."
"Shouldnât," Ashlynn said, looking to Aubin and hoping that the other priest was more certain than Ignatious was. Unfortunately, the old priest could only shrug helplessly before her questioning gaze.
"This is the first Iâve heard that a childâs path through the heavens isnât fixed until theyâre born," Aubin said, looking at Ignatious and wondering who this âAspakosâ was to speak such heresy... and for the High Inquisitor before him to believe it. "A child born to a noble house is destined to a certain place in the world, and the day of their birth wonât change that. The same is true for a commoner."
"This," he said delicately. "This has been the teaching of the Church for hundreds of years. Even a bastard son has a fate that is different from a commonerâs or a noblemanâs, and that is set when the child is sired, not when they are born."
"I think Dame Sybyll would disagree with you, your Worship," Ashlynn said, shaking her head as she thought about the fate that Baron Brighton Hanrahanâs daughter had been born to.
"But if neither of you is certain," Ashlynn said as she turned to look at Samira. "Then itâs up to Samira to decide..."