Raven's Ruin Signed Paperback - Keeper Origins Book 2

• Time spent in a priory with an elderly prioress who should not be interesting, but somehow grabs your heart.
• Time spent in a political summit on an island of peaceful warrior monks.
• Time spent around prioresses who you love. Or hate. Or love to hate.
• Friends.
• Family.
• Betrayal.
• Murder.
• Everyone’e favorite phoenix.
• And, as always, a mismatched band of adventurers who become a found family.

The warm hues of light from the stained-glass windows did nothing to soften the cold isolation surrounding Sable as she stood inside the Dragon Priory. Past the rippled pane of glass, the gallows stood empty. The dark smudge of the crowd trickled away, taking with it the troupe and Reese.

Next to Sable, the High Prioress Vivaine stretched her fingers, and a bit of the light slipped off the glass and slid around the prioress, brightening her white robe and turning her long, straight hair to strands of silver and smoothing the irritation and small wrinkles out of her face.

What Sable had always imagined to be the blessing of Amah now looked like nothing more than thin, twisted light.

Vivaine stood with her back to the abbesses and Sanctus guards who waited for her down the hall.

“This afternoon, when you come to the council with the Kalesh,” she said with a derisive look at the dirty white dress Sable had worn all night, “do attempt to look presentable.”

“And you’ll demand the Kalesh stop attacking towns to the east?” Sable asked.

Vivaine let out an amused breath. “Your naivety is almost refreshing. I will do what needs to be done, and you will remain silent. This is not your stage, dear. Here—in my priory—you have no voice. Your only purpose is to help me ferret out the truth so I can keep my people safe. Remember that, Issable. Or things will go badly for you and those you love.”

Without waiting for a reply, Vivaine turned and called to a Sanctus guard stationed by the front door. “Please see that Issable gets to Prioress Narine.”

The man bowed. “Yes, Holy Mother.”

Vivaine swept away down the hall, followed by a trail of abbesses.

Sable glared after her, as though she could strip away the woman’s power just by sheer fury.

The guard motioned Sable down a different hall, lined with stained-glass windows and brilliantly colored tapestries. The windows faced away from the rising sun, but the stained glass still caught enough light to glow with vibrant depictions of white-robed prioresses feeding the poor and healing the sick.

Each one flashed a glimpse of the empty gallows. Each time she could see again Reese’s look of anger as she pledged herself to Vivaine.

The fury and heartbreak of the morning seethed under the surface, and Sable forced herself to focus on the door at the end of the hall. The stones around her kept trying to form themselves into cell walls, but Sable straightened her shoulders.

This was where leaders met to decide the fate of everyone she’d ever known, and countless people she would never meet. This was where the plans of the Empire would be revealed and where the leaders of the land might be convinced to unite against the Kalesh.

No, this wasn’t Atticus’s stage. It wasn’t the stage she’d expected when she’d ridden into Immusmala only days ago, but it was a stage, nonetheless.

The true problem looming in front of her was that the role she’d been given in this grand play was small and silent. She might as well be part of the scenery.

She followed the guard down the long hallway and out into the garden tucked in the corner of the Sanctuary between the Dragon and the Phoenix Priories. The air was cooler here, fresher than the plaza had been with its crowd of people waiting to see Reese hanged. The tall Sanctuary Wall hedged in the back of the garden, almost blocking out the salty scent of the sea and the muffled crashes of waves far below. The garden itself was dotted with white-robed abbesses kneeling among neat lines of vegetables.

A flash of movement under a nearby bush caught Sable’s attention. A blue face peered out at her, wide purple eyes set in a worried expression. Sable felt a tiny surge of relief. Purnicious couldn’t get inside the priories, but if Sable could get to the garden, she’d at least be able to talk to Purn. Sable gave her a small wave, and the kobold drew back into the shadows.

The guard entered the Phoenix Priory through a side door into a plain stone hallway, devoid of tapestries and hollowly optimistic stained glass.

When they reached the entrance hall, they passed an intricate stone column rising up to the high, arched ceiling. Sable trailed her fingers over the shape of rippling flames, so detailed they almost flickered. The carvings were free and wild, not consuming the stone as much as bringing it to life.

The guard led her to a back hallway where a wide, wooden door was opened by an abbess. The wrinkles etched between her silver eyebrows deepened. “I suppose you must come in,” she said, her voice low, “but stay quiet. The prioress is resting.”

The homey smell of wood fire and mint met Sable as she entered the room. Fruit trees in the garden were visible through the window at the far end, past a tall four-poster bed. The center of the room held a large desk piled with papers. The Phoenix Prioress lay on a high-backed couch pulled up close to the hearth. Despite the mildness of the summer morning, a crackling fire warmed the room. The fireplace was a marvel of stonework.

But Sable barely glanced at the carvings, her eyes caught instead on the stunning sight next to it.

Perched on a thick beam of wood darkened with age and scarred with scratches sat the phoenix, fixing Sable with blazing orange eyes. The top of its head was crowned a deep red, brightening to orange and golden-yellow at the crest of its breast before darkening again to a cascade of ember-red tail feathers.

The bird shifted. The front edges of its wings glowed, and sparks showered down, leaving glittering trails of light.

Sable waited for the wood to smolder, but the sparks disappeared without a trace.

The abbess cleared her throat, and Sable turned back to meet the woman’s hard gaze.

“So you’re Issable,” she said quietly, obviously unimpressed, “and even though you were part of a violent murder, the good prioress is stuck with you.”

Sable opened her mouth to object, but Narine’s voice came from the couch.

“Bring her over here please, Hetty.”

Hetty’s mouth tightened in disapproval, but she hurried toward the prioress.

Sable followed her to the front of the couch, where Phoenix Prioress arranged a thick blanket across her lap. She was dressed in the simplest robe Sable had ever seen on a holy woman, and her hair lay in a thick braid over her shoulder.

Deep lines wrinkled Narine’s face, not like a woman weathered with years, but like one practiced in the art of joy. Next to Vivaine and Eugessa, Narine had always seemed like the quiet, meek prioress, but the woman’s gaze was anything but weak. Narine’s presence didn’t hold the crushing weight that Vivaine’s did, but it was more substantial than Sable had expected.

“I’m sorry she disturbed you, Holy Mother.” Hetty bustled around the couch, straightening pillows and adjusting papers and medicine bottles on a nearby small table.

Unlike Narine, Hetty was the perfect example of a person whose presence carried no weight. The abbess served one of the three most powerful women in the city, and yet for all her bossing and bustle, she could be replaced with any of a hundred cross, old women, and no one would ever notice.

“I’ll take her to the kitchens, where they can find something for her to do,” Hetty continued.

Sable stepped forward. “No, Prioress Vivaine sent me to care for the Holy Mother.”

“The High Prioress does not run this priory,” Hetty said with a stern voice.

“Thank you, Hetty.” Narine folded her hands on her lap. “I wish to speak to Issable alone for a few moments. Would you be so kind as to find us a bit of bread?”

Hetty frowned but nodded. “Yes, Holy Mother.”

Left alone with the prioress, Sable smoothed the front of her torn and dirty white dress. There was a good chance her face paint was smudged, and from the wisps of hair hanging in her eyes, the braids Thulan had plaited for the play hadn’t weathered the night well either. Sable tucked a loose lock behind her ear. “Good morning, Holy Mother. I’m sorry to come to you this…disheveled.”

Narine didn’t glance at her clothes or her hair but studied Sable’s face. “Why are you here, Issable?”

Sable paused before stating the obvious. “Vivaine said you were ill and needed a caregiver.”

“Please call her Prioress Vivaine. I did not ask what others want you to do. Why did you decide to walk into my room?”

After the way Vivaine had controlled every aspect of the morning, stripping every decision from Sable’s hands, she let out a laugh at the question. “This is where that armed Sanctus guard brought me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Narine said, her voice still calm. “You had a choice this morning, when you turned your back on your friend while he stood on the gallows. You had a choice when you bent your knee before Prioress Vivaine and offered her your service. You had a choice last night when you stood on that stage and denounced the ambassador in front of everyone.” Narine studied Sable curiously. “Which leads to an interesting question. Last night I saw a young woman stand up against people far more powerful than her. But this morning I saw her fold before everything she believed in.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sable’s words came out harsher than she’d intended.

Narine didn’t blink. “Prioress Vivaine has some hold over you. Even the young man on the gallows knew that. I assume your pledge of loyalty paid for his freedom?”

Sable took a breath, trying to get control of the swirl of anger rising in her. “I couldn’t let him die.”

“Of course not. The real question is, why did the High Prioress go through the effort? What use are you to her?” Before Sable could answer, Narine raised a finger. “Consider your answer carefully. It is best to speak the truth or say nothing at all. I have not decided what I’m going to do with you yet, but if you are not honest with me, I will let Hetty send you to the kitchens, and you and I will likely not speak again.”

Sable shifted under the woman’s gaze. A ripple of light from the phoenix caught Sable’s eye. With every breath, the bird’s chest glowed slightly, like someone blowing on a bed of coals.

Sable hesitated. She couldn’t tell Narine the truth.

The thought stopped her.

Why not? Because Vivaine wouldn’t want her to?

Everything Vivaine did relied on secrets and manipulations. All the things that had gone wrong in the past few days were because of secrets and lies.

The idea of simply telling the truth felt reckless, but freeing.

The phoenix shifted on its perch, and a trickle of sparks fluttered off the bird, glowing like tiny falling stars.

If Narine knew about Sable’s skill, there’d be two prioresses wanting to take advantage of her abilities, but was that much worse than one? And it would convince Narine to keep her close.

The fact that telling Narine would probably annoy Vivaine was just an added bonus.

Sable turned back to the Phoenix Prioress, who was watching her patiently. “I can feel the truth.”

The prioress considered the words. “What do you mean by that?”

“When people say something that they deeply believe to be true, I can feel it.”

“And if they lie?”

“I can feel that too.”

Narine paused, and Sable waited for the inevitable request for proof.

Instead, the woman merely said, “A dangerous gift.”

Sable let out a short laugh. “Dangerous?”

“It is one of Amah’s greatest gifts to be able to believe people.”

There wasn’t the slightest hint of coldness in anything the prioress had said so far, and this last statement had been the warmest of them all. Sable frowned at her. “You don’t want to know if someone is lying?”

“You are missing the point of talking to people. Trusting them is the important part.”

“You can’t be that naïve.” The words were out before Sable could stop them.

Narine raised an eyebrow. “It is not naivety to believe that people can be the best form of themselves. It is hope.”

“You can’t trust the Kalesh, certainly.”

“Trust is given to individuals, not empires.”

Sable frowned at the prioress. “Does that mean you would have believed me no matter what I said about why Vivaine wanted me?”

“Prioress Vivaine. And no. Only a fool believes a blatant lie. There are very few things you could have told me that the High Prioress would value enough to let that young man go unpunished, but your skill qualifies.”

Narine’s gaze turned to the fire as the flames chased each other across the wood. “Why did the High Prioress send you to watch me?” The words were said quietly, almost to herself.

“I’m not watching you. I’m to be your caregiver so I have a reason to attend meetings with the Kalesh.”

For the first time, the look Narine cast at her showed a hint of exasperation. “If you’re going to tangle with the High Prioress, child, you’ll need to be sharper than that.”

Narine was right. There were plenty of ways that Vivaine could have arranged for Sable to be in the meetings that were simpler and more assured than hoping Narine would agree to this idea. “Then why does she want me here?”

Narine shrugged. “Were you involved in the assassination?”

“No!” Sable took a step closer to the prioress. “All I wanted was to warn people about the Kalesh.”

The prioress considered her words, then nodded. “I intend to go to the meeting with the Kalesh today, if for no other reason than to convey my sympathy. You may accompany me and serve the High Prioress if that is your wish.” Sable opened her mouth to point out that none of this was her wish, but the prioress raised her hand. “On one condition.”

“Anything,” Sable said quickly.

Narine fixed her with a level look. “You never share with me what your gift tells you about people. I have no desire to be so restricted.”

“It’s not restricting,” Sable objected. “It’s enlightening.”

Narine’s look remained firm. “Do you agree to my terms?”

Sable paused, then nodded.

“Good. Then sit with me while we wait for Hetty to bring us that bread and tell me about yourself. From your speech last night, it seems you’ve had an interesting life.”

Sable took a seat, and her eyes watched the fire dance as the prioress questioned her about the acting troupe and their travels, Sable’s life in Dockside, and her parents. Sable braced herself for questions about her skills or her agreement with Vivaine, but Narine was only interested in Sable’s relationships with the people in her life.

Hetty returned with some warm bread and honey, and Sable told the elderly prioress about Leonis and Thulan’s endless bickering, how protective Jae and Serene were of each other, and the way Ryah had filled the role of an abbess to the people on the Eastern Reaches.

“And the young man from the gallows?” Narine asked. “Who is he?”

“Andreese is one of the only survivors of Ebenmoor,” Sable said. Purnicious had survived as well, but Narine didn’t need to know the kobold existed. “The Kalesh had burned the town to the ground.”

Narine let out a sorrowful breath but said nothing.

The bread filled Sable’s stomach with a satisfying warmth, and the cushions of the couch were so soft that she stifled a yawn.

“When was the last time you slept?” Narine asked.

Sable closed her eyes, and the room spun slowly. “It’s been a while.”

“Hetty,” Narine called. “Take Issable to one of the open rooms down the hall. And find her something clean to wear.” She turned back to Sable. “We won’t meet with the Kalesh until late afternoon. You’ll be of no use to Prioress Vivaine if you’re falling asleep on your feet.”

Sable shifted at the words. “I don’t want to be of use to her.”

Narine picked up a book and opened it. “Then you should have made different choices.”

• 656 pages