Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The second interrogation took place in the small auditorium.

There was no gallery for spectators.

There were only seven Inquisitors, one Scribe, and Lian.

The Dean was absent.

This meant they didn’t want the truth.

They only wanted a testimony they could sign off on.

The Scribe read out the questions.

“On a winter night three years ago, did you enter the North Tower Basement?”

I said, “Yes.”

“Did you see Damian performing a heretic ritual?”

I paused.

Lian sat off to the side.

He didn’t look up, twirling a silver ring in his hand.

That ring was the mark of a Saint Candidate.

I had seen it before.

Three years ago, it had been on the Dean’s hand.

Now, it was in his.

I said, “I did.”

The Scribe continued to ask, “Did you witness a Miracle?”

I looked up.

All seven Inquisitors were watching me.

They were more nervous than anyone.

Because a Miracle couldn’t just appear at random.

But once it did, it could cover all scandals in gold leaf.

I said, “I saw light.”

The tip of the Scribe’s pen paused.

“What kind of light?”

I thought of the answer Lian had taught me.

White.

Shadowless.

Rising from the fragments of the Holy Lamp.

Like God personally pressing a hand against a sinner’s forehead.

But as the words reached my lips, I suddenly changed them.

“Red,” I said.

The auditorium fell dead silent.

Lian finally looked up.

I looked at him.

And said slowly, “Light like blood.”

An older Inquisitor said angrily, “Nonsense! The Holy Light is never red.”

I lowered my head.

“Then perhaps it wasn’t the Holy Light.”

The Scribe was so frightened that he stopped writing.

Lian smiled faintly.

It was very brief.

So brief it seemed like an illusion.

An Inquisitor demanded, “Who taught you to say this?”

I said, “No one.”

“Yesterday at the public trial, you admitted to lying, and today you claim to have seen a Miracle. Evelyn, which of your words are actually true?”

I looked at Lian.

“The future Saint said that my lies were the will of God.”

That sentence dragged everyone down into the mud.

They wanted to use my testimony to pave the way for Lian.

So I shoved Lian right in front of them.

The interrogation was suspended.

When I was escorted back to the West Tower, Lian was waiting for me at the end of the corridor.

The guards stepped back.

His expression was impassive.

I spoke first. “You should praise me. I made them panic even more.”

“You also put yourself in more danger.”

“Are you worried?”

Lian looked at me.

“Yes.”

I froze for a moment.

He always had this ability.

Just when I was ready to stab him, he would suddenly offer up his soft underbelly.

But I didn’t dare to believe him anymore.

“Don’t try to coax me with words like that,” I said. “Is your way of caring for someone sending them to the inquisitorial stand?”

“I am not coaxing you.”

“Then what do you want?”

He stepped closer.

My back pressed against the cold stone wall.

He stopped too close.

So close that I could see the hint of exhaustion beneath his eyes.

“Who told you about the red light?” he asked.

I smiled.

“Are you scared?”

“Evelyn.”

“Don’t you like it when I tell the truth?”

He grabbed my wrist.

Not heavily.

But it pressed exactly against the red marks left by the iron chains.

It hurt so much I sucked in a breath.

He let go immediately.

“Sorry.”

I looked at his hand.

His knuckles were white.

He wasn’t entirely immune to losing control.

That made me wickedly glad.

“Three years ago, before Damian died, he left me a message,” I said.

Lian’s eyes changed.

I leaned closer to him.

Like handing a knife back.

“He said that when the Holy Lamp shattered, what he saw wasn’t a dark shadow.”

“It was red light.”