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" AND IF I'M DEAD TO YOU, WHY ARE YOU AT THE WAKE?
Cursing my name "
―AS YI AND NIKOLAI DREW NEARER TO LOWER TOWN, SHE CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF A LARGE CROWD THAT HAD GATHERED INTO A CLUMP.
Her eyes snagged onto the rough scraps they wore and a pang of sympathy rushed through her, only to be quickly extinguished upon seeing the banners they held. Unmistakable black pierced by the illustration of a sun in eclipse.
The symbol of the Darkling.
Yi felt pure, unbridled rage flare in her chest. That was the man who had ripped her life to shreds, the man who had taken everything from her. He'd manipulated her and made her weaker than she'd been that night she broke down before him. He'd killed and tortured thousands. Harshaw, Sergei, Marie, Fedyor, Ivan, all gone. They were meant to be under his protection, and yet he'd never even batted an eye as they dropped like flies.
And I returned the favor, Yi reminded herself, trying to stifle the anger coursing through her veins, making her power hum and beg for the sweet release of tearing everything apart. He died at my hand.
Even now she could summon the image of his grey eyes dying out, how still he went.
Because of her.
And that should have been enough to satisfy.
So why did it still feel like the wound was raw and fresh again?
"What is this?" Yi demanded, and even with all her experience, she couldn't stop the resentment and bitterness from coating her tone.
Nikolai sighed, as if simply exasperated. "This is the Cult of the Starless Saint."
Yi felt her blood boil. Saint?
It seemed Ravka was more than desperate these days.
"There have been rumblings of a new cult but nothing like this," Tamar said, as though that was supposed to reassure or appease Yi.
The Apparat spotted the king, in the midst of making his way through the sea of people clad in black. He was trailed by Priestguards in their brown cloaks, Alina's familiar golden sun sewn into where their hearts would be, armed with rifles.
At least Yi would know where to aim if she ever needed to take her anger out on someone.
"Your Majesty," the Apparat greeted, sinking into a low bow. "I am honored you would make time to lend me your support. I so rarely see you in the chapel. I sometimes fear you have forgotten how to pray."
Yi bit her tongue.
"Not at all," Nikolai reassured. "Just not much for kneeling. Plays havoc on the joints. You've brought armed men into the city walls."
