Ashes of the Elite

No. No, I must have misheard him. The voices in my head must be playing tricks on me again because what else could explain the absolute nonsense coming out of this old man's mouth?

I squint at him, my voice slow, deliberate. "What?"

Bishop Lark sighs and rubs his temples like I'm the one being difficult. "Yes, you heard me correctly, Lord Daath." He exhales, like he's weary of his own words. "If you go to Lusa, you will die." His eyes darken slightly. "Or at least, that's the plan, from what I gather."

I just... stare.

For a long second, the words refuse to sink in. There's no way—no damn way—he just said that to my face so casually.

Finally, I scoff. "I'm to die for what, exactly? I haven't done anything worth execution."

Bishop Lark chuckles, but there's no humor in it. "Oh no, it's not an execution. The King would never allow you to die without reason." He gives me a pointed look. "No, this is something being planned by Archbishop Aren and his Cardinals—the twenty Bishops elected as advisors to the Archbishop, voted in by their peers."

I stiffen slightly at the name.

Cecilia mentioned the Archbishop before—how she thought he'd agree with her about me, about what I could be. I almost laugh. So much for that.

I shift my weight, my voice edged with amusement that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "Now, what have I done to deserve the honor of being assassinated by the Order?" I tilt my head slightly, studying him. "And why are you even telling me this?"

Bishop Lark smirks. "Lord Daath, the answer is simple." He steeples his fingers, his gaze sharp, unwavering. "Because you exist."